hobby
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This pandemic teaches me,
Home confinement is not fun and easy,
Be productive, pick a hobby!
This pandemic teaches me,
Do not we all have addictions of different kinds
Some like mugs of Budweiser sharp at seven
Others love their late evening shots of Tequila
Few of them have fixations for meth or cocain
Something dusty, faded, and old.
Something dismissed and thought to be outdated.
Overlooked in a world of new and exciting,
but this something has a story to tell.
Look hard into its past to find its value.
Dancing has been my passion for as long as I can remember
From pivots to turns, plies to pirouettes
I was the girl that loved anything to do with contemporary, jazz, and ballet
What energizes one in early morning?
The favorite song drifting through the air
The symbol that the day is not for mourning,
But the beginning of the new, awakened by the music blare
Filling the naked slate of white paper,
a paintbrush as a pump.
Imperfectly, yet perfectly
covering the smooth surface with
delicate strokes
A God:A being beyond comprehension.The greatest possibility and impossibility,an image of parting seas and fire raining from the sky,an embodiment of love and justice,a redeemer and a punisher,
A Conversation in Stitches.
Sewing is like a lonely morning.
Spent at a table,
With a group of people around you.
While you think by yourself.
The machine sings a comforting song.
No filter = no likes.
No filter is like going on a date,
without breaking the ice.
(Which is a habit of mine)
No filter is #Fresh Friday
and no #Makeup Monday.
No filter is usually me.
The lights so bright, I cannot see
And though visibly impaired by this
I know everyone's eyes are on me
Every move I make, they will not miss
Who am I?
In front of the World, I do not know
i think I am awesome, yes i do
I think i am awesome and you will too
competitive sports are my passion
love to sport my volleyball fashion
lacrosse is another favorite
I just always crave it
Im addiceted to help
To put others needs before mine
Why?
Cause we live in a cruel world.
One where gossip is a hobby
Being mean to others is perfectly normal
Killing others with words is typical
I find that there is no pleasure truer Than playing trumpet alone in the sewer When that exasperating feeling comes I go there to rattle my tympanums
A couple of smoothe dry pages moved by the soft hands that control ages,of thought and the process, protest of an incapable body,not yet devoloped but getting there,enveloped a sudden hidden share,of a mess.
I do what I love.
I am passionate about what I do.
I dance.
It takes feelings and emotion to dance with passion.
I am a key.
I am metal and cold.
I am hard and ornate.
I do not taste or see or feel.
Pockets, drawers, and key-chains.
All places that I can hide.
Locking thing up tight.
Hider of many things.
Writing many words
Telling a secret story
Telling who I am
Words can save the soul
Words can create a new world
Words provide escape
