My Naughty Life, Katie Lodge [non fiction books to read TXT] 📗

My Poetry

The Top of the Rope

 

Love doesn’t come with a warning label describing the tears you may cry.

Trust doesn’t with a bonding agent to mend a heart shattered by lies.

Life doesn’t come with a guarantee promising the existence of hope.

But it does come with just enough tiny fibers to weave a sky high rope.

With enough persistence, up this rope you will climb.

Clinging most fiercely, because your one dream overpowers your mind

You will pass the starry setting and then in heaven we will dine.

 

 

 

On she was an ever so wonderful girl.

Emotions so deep and

 

Oh she was such a leader at will.

Powerful as a saint and a legend that exists still.

 

She and Joan of Ark must have been two of a kind.

Courage under their feet and steel for a spine.

 

Oh what a fine platter of loyal services she has served.

A smile with soft, warm dimples, and a heart with many curves.

 

Oh what greatness she brings to the people here.

First up to battle away the enemy and look into the eye of fear.

 

Oh what a terrible fate she has encountered so sudden and so soon.

Here in the square the statue of her stands guarded by roses and harpoons.

 

The Solemn One

 

The solemn one stands. Her gestures as kind as the soul reflected through the eyes that display it.

 

Her heroic style and courage so strong that her presence can be felt by any lost victim in need of a hand.

 

Her strength so great that a strong iron pole must hold her bound into the face of the earth that spins so fast.

 

When a tear drops from another’s face, it is her reflection that is seen in it as she rises to feet in the other’s grief.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My eyes are made weary by the view of the heavenly light.

Harvested by years of childhood egotism and uncorrupted delight.

I emerge from my childhood land like a halibut out of the sea.

The black and white world of conformity casts a cold dark shadow around my heart and will soon consume the rest of me.

I am as stale and as stuck up as the material possessions that my crazy heart grieves. I don’t possess the material anymore it possesses me.

I am battered by the feeling that no more dreams lie ahead for me.

For this time I have just dug too deep and hit plain old reality.

If ever there was a heaven it must be something deep but simple

As wise people have always said.

It cannot be material for material is dead.

 

 

There comes a time in everyone’s life when all seems hopeless and week.

Black and white shadow overpowers everything you pass.

The road ahead is nothing but bleak.

 

But there is more to seek.

It is meraculous and deep.

To see it one must conquer life’s greatest peak.

 

Over boulders you will climb.

Masses at a time.

Motivated by nothing more then a tiny ray of sunshine.

 

 

 

 

 

The child is like a peacock put out for show: perfected and irrisistable.

The child’s eyes can take the place of the sun on a cloudy day.

The child’s voice can melt the snowy sheets that form over the meadows well before May.

The child’s imagination will take you on vacation to prized destinations at any location.

Those who can walk into a room and unleash a certain type of inner beauty found in everyone present: the Anne Shirleys and Pollyannas have maintained the spirit of the child.

 

 

The lioness girl tosses her hair with heavy passion and pride.

Her competitive nature and boldness makes people shrink into the corners on either side.

Her abstract ideal character that she has molded herself into over the years

Continues to shape itself as she conquers each one of her fears.

 

 

 

With love and imagination you can climb to the top of the peak.

It is not gold but passion and freedom that you seek.

I have always found

That people will try to pull you down.

When overbearing hatred and negativity

Keeps them confined to the ground.

With love of the non-existing you can create your own universe of ideals

Daily you can devour the beauty of your dreams like a creative meal.

 

 

 

Every great spirit has spent countless hours in hell

Every great spirit has experienced the coldness of a dark lonely cell.

Every great spirit has spent dark days trying not to give into their foes

In the end what grows upon the ruins is a brave and beautiful rose.

 

 

Golden sun awakens shinning it’s blazing bronze.

Upon each of the tender green hedges separating

Row upon row of luscious lawns.

A costly mermaid statue spews liquid crystal

Onto a marble floor.

It welcomes the arrival of all who knock on the country carved oak door.

Verginia creeper vines close in a veranda,

tightly to the pillars they cling

Sunlight bounces off a glass table top onto

Fancy chairs set out for a king

Four white ducks waddle round a well arguing together at will

Startling a fat pregnant cardinal making a home

Out of a window sill.

Outdoor hallways are formed by 20 lines of rose hedges

Clay pots form a row down a staircase of garden wall ledges

Three rickering squirrels wind down the trunk of an apple tree

By where a lady’s hand wearing a clean white blouse pours a cup of tea.

See with elegant glory the luxery it creates.

Here it only happens for the rich perched behind their clingy cast iron gates.

 

 

 

 

The idea of following a rainbow and finding the pot of gold is the very hopeful image that motivates one to stay brave and bold.

To the very end of this rainbow is a place I need never again go.

For the rainbow like the pot of gold bears it’s own soft majestic glow.

The rainbow is pure natural phenomina created in a sweet dream.

So what then is the purpose of exchanging this gift to get your hands on the golden gleam.

 

 

Close up your mind

And surely you will find

All that lies within that one tiny line.

Soon you may find

That you were confined.

Life is so full of great visions and realities with many faces

But instead you close up your mind and stare

Constantly at all that lies within that one little line.

 

 

 

No motivation.

No light in the tunnel ahead.

Overbearing passion, keeps me in bed.

My enthusiasm for life all of a sudden gone.

Lack of inspiration.

Night time is forever.

Days never dawns.

 

 

My Poetry

Driven stupid by her fetishes

Taken by their spell

A materialized soul she has become

Like some sort of product that will sell

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The tiger is a majestic perfectionist lurking through the grass. Beautiful but at the same time functional: a rare combination.

The peacock is an elegant woman in disguise waiting her lover to return so she can reveal her class.

The butterfly is a mimic of some of the flowers a flatterer

 

 

Today I wanted to be reborn

My old mind and my old body felt worn.

But if I left behind my passion my heart would be torn.

 

 

 

 

 

 

So you wanna become a leader

Next you’re isolated from humankind

You keep nothing for yourself

The sunlight bounces off you to light the way for those follow behind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Imprint

Publication Date: 08-22-2020

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