Dear friends…I will try and catch-up with all of you soon…got only two days left to enjoy with my daughter before she is flying back to England!!
******
"From The Archives Of My Heart"
Without you
Hours became like days to me
Every minute like a piercing dart
Aimed straight at the heart
As blood starting to flow
Precious moments bleeding away
Leaving blood stained eyes
From staring into the darkness of the night
Candle lights flicker patiently
The only witness of this emotion
A butterfly struggle within
I try to wipe away the loneliness
And tears falling from my eyes
But I touched the deepest part of me
Like the deep blue sea it started to rumble inside
Waves of tears just filled my eyes
Escaping from the archives of my heart
The deepest part of me now bleeding
Bleeding… missing you
Just because
I LOVE YOU
Copyright ©2007 Tinka Boukes
Peace&Grace,
Sharon
Thank you - I miss you!
but, I am happy and thrilled your spending quality time
With your daughter!
I had my time last weekend, It means the world to us mom's!
Keep Enjoying!
The memories will linger in your heart forever, as this poem will with ME! The music compliments it perfectly too!
WArmest Blessings and HuGs,WArrior Sheeeooxx
Peace,
Carolyn
nice work.....Art Sun...
Sandie May Angel :o)
Love & Peace
William
debra
Love,
Eileen
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in America, Karen Lynn in the Lone Star State (Texas). :D
A very beautiful and gentle heart it is.
A wonderful reading, deep, "From the Archives Of My Heart"
Great pen Tinka~
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
P.S. Savor every moment! Enjoy the little time left with your daughter! We'll be here waiting from our archives...:)
very moving and well penned ...
Fee
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
TRASK
For me, this line sets up the poem and knocks it out of the park.
Rusty
Well done,Enjoy your time left with your daughter,
God Bless,
Michael
God Bless,
Joselyn
Moving heart on the sleeve, washed in tears write as ever.
Regards
Dai
Joyce B.
"Every minute like a piercing dart" Sissy this is great simile. And the poem is a sensitive and facile write. I hope all is well with you. Blessings ...
Yur big bro ...
Richard Lloyd Cederberg
Much love and many hugs,
CJ