loss
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There is no creation of his that should be used because lies plus truth equal errors, equal lost souls, equal fake changes and returning to the past habits many times more than the opposite Discerning Error Throughout the Holy Bible we are given warning not to be deceived or led away with error. “Ye therefore,… Read more
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I was asked today to make things simple rather than how I most often write or talk… so here’s a fully regular writing that touches home for me…. for 9 reasons…. I’ve thought about this a lot, probably more than I’d like to admit. You lose somebody, or you get close to losing somebody, and… Read more
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In the garden of my grandmother’s house, magnolias bloomed like whispers. their petals soft as secrets shared, fragrant memories drifting on warm breezes, shadows of afternoons spent in laughter. Azaleas, bright as a child’s laughter, their bold hues painting the air, each blossom a promise of joy, cuttings planted with threads of love, each… Read more
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I sat and watched you draw your last breath, Dear Mother -A fragile whisper lost in a fading glow, 5 months and 7 days later with daddy’s hand in mine, I faced his death, in silent anguish, in tears and screams of anger. my heart laid bare by your deaths, now in woe that is… Read more
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Grace is the completeness of Christ’s work at Calvary, yet church folk and others still strive to be ‘on top of things’, always seeking systems for spiritual progress, ladder climbing, one upsmanship and more.In Hebrews, Colossians, and Galatians, the Holy Spirit through the writers reminds believers that grace isn’t earned or “activated” through methods, but… Read more
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“And the third angel followed them, saying with a loud voice, If any man worship the beast and his image, and receive his mark in his forehead, or in his hand, The same shall drink of the wine of the wrath of God, which is poured out without mixture into the cup of his indignation;… Read more
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La douleur, comme un vent froid,se glisse entre les murs de ma pensée,frappant la chair des souvenirs,les échos d’un rire perdu,un monde où la lumière ne s’épanouit plus Les émotions, ces ombres,s’accrochent à mes pas,comme des racines tordues,s’enfonçant dans le sol,me tirant vers un abîme Le cœur, ce prisonnier,battant sans but,tandis que les jours se… Read more
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my heart is growing teeth sharp and jagged, chewing and gnawing at what was once tender and now the bitterness of years gone by is no better than cold coffee the axe head came to my forest and I was oblivious because the handle was wooden, and I never paid attention to the whispers of… Read more
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dust collects on the edges of memories living room walls grayed with outlines of what was,photographs hang in webbed silence each face frozen in a laugh that no longer resounds Their love as a vase cracked, yet still holding water,the stems of our shared days with petals dry, dead on the floor, they dropped only… Read more
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the life clock ticks moment by moment an agonizing reminder of loss; faith slipping through my fingers like dust washed from gold by hydrogen cyanide My forgotten prayers all blurred, my guts are wrenched pleading for resurrection from the death I call life, and the light that never comes Outside, the horror of east coast… Read more
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once again the kettle whistles, once a loud demand, now only a dull complaint; which is all that fills this hollow space as a reminder—even the simplest things can turn bitter gazing across the pasture I trees standing like military sentinels but they know nothing of the weight that grows heavier each minute daily I… Read more
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My tears fall like a dropped coin,tinkling, and twirling to rest; a reminder of absence,the sounds of what was, and what will never be I sit with my grief, no longer my parents deaths, but new demons to face wrapped in heavy webbing Outside, friends lives continue, their new family arrivals or other joy and… Read more
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Inside my rib cage lies a grave marked with 6 names and on the ground surrounding it are the remnants of a boy lost in memories and dreams,starved of life, breath fading; lost beneath what could have been This boy, that I the old man am, are one in the same: He often does not… Read more
The Quill of Samantha Grace Newcastle 