#poetry

Becky Hemsley Poetry
https://www.facebook.com/talkingtothewild
July 24 at 11:19 AM ·

When I invite you over, you always ask “what should I bring?”
And I always say “just bring yourself.”
But what I really mean is...
Bring your woes and your worries.
Let us talk them out if you want to.
Bring your sadness and your sorrows and
let me hold you whilst you cry, if you need to.
Bring your heaviness and heartache and
let me lighten your load a little if I’m able to.
Bring your achievements and accomplishments and
let me celebrate your successes with you.
Bring your happiness and hope and
let me share your joy and listen to your dreams.
Bring your flaws and your failures and
let me accept you regardless.
Yes, when I say “just bring yourself,” what I really mean
is that I want you to feel so comfortably yourself with me that you can bring your smiles and frowns, laughter and tears, joy and grief, highs and lows.
So just bring yourself; your whole self.
And be yourself.
Because your whole self is welcome here.
*****
Becky Hemsley 2024
Lovely artwork by B. Joyful Illustrations

Treading water in a sea of retarded sexuality and bad poetry!

#dark_academia #Eva_Palmer_Sikelianos #Ancient_Greece #poetry

https://greekreporter.com/2024/06/07/eva-palmer-sikelianos-american-lived-like-ancient-greek/

Whenever I see the tapestry, your blessed hands that wove for me. The poetry, the misery, it all meant so, so much to me.

My poetry from freshman year. This is called the ghost and is published on fanfiction.net. Please do not steal my writings as they are mine.

"Eleven thirty my alarm rings. I wake up to the puddle of blood next to my head. I try to stand but as I do there is a rush to my head. Hearing the screams of my bloody valentine, I fight the urge to run in the other room and cover her sweet mouth. All I can hear is the screams in the next room over. Finally I race over to the room only to see my girl tied in spread eagle. I do not see the man by the closet. But he can see me. He stares and mumbles something. I cannot tell exactly what he is saying. All I know is I call to her. She does not respond the man smiles and walks over to where she lay. She screams with pleasure as the man pulls out a whip and glides it over her body. I run over yelling for her to stop. She does not respond. The man looks at me with those lustrous eyes and continues. Trying to punch him in the face, my hand goes through his flesh. I examine my hands they look normal but somehow they are not. The man looks at me and smiles as I realize I am dead."

I woke up this morning very sad. Thinking of the recent changes with my mother. She has always been difficult, but she has never disowned me. Being that she lives with me it makes it extra difficult. I’ve been supporting her for over 20 years. Today, this morning we have our first meeting with a social worker. We’re going to get her into a home. She wants nothing to do with me. She never wants to see me again. It hurts so much.

If you would like to see more of my poetry, you can check it out at linktree.com/xzanthiapoetry I would love if you left in the comments there 🫶

I just made a linktree for my poetry.
If u are into that kinda thing here u go!!
I’d love your comments there 🫶
Linktree.com/XZanthiaPOETRY
linktree.com/XZanthia​

#victorian #steampunks #cyberpunk #steampunktendencies #steam #steampunkjewelry #dieselpunk #artist

Maybe you can't sleep, listen to my spoken word poetry a long time ago.
.
.
.
Please subscribe to my Youtube Channel.
https://www.youtube.com/c/XZanthiaOctoshroom
And please follow me on my social media account.
https://linktr.ee/xzanthiaadventure
https://www.tiktok.com/@xzanthia.octoshroom?lang=en
https://www.facebook.com/XZanthiaOctoshroom
https://twitter.com/XZanthiaDOTcom
https://www.instagram.com/xzanthiaadventure/
Thank you sooooooooooooooo much!⭐️


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tKvQ_syWG0Y&list=PLQp1EWBcWS8a_Nq2w9WkVsl1Eeq-sJR-

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

#poetry #yardwork