Poetry: Bound

Baby given up with no name;

Until someone took her in- shelter from the storm;

Once nameless, now framed with a name;

Adopted by a family, last name changed;

Growing up, a feeling she never could ignore;

Secrets kept, she never once implore;

Memories lost she couldn’t restore;

Bound lost, lonely, abandoned, hopeless, dazed, and confused;

A house that felt like no home;

A family disconnected;

Betrayed of lies;

But one remained hidden deep inside;

Within her heart, a longing she couldn’t sway;

A face once without a name, named.

Had a home.

Had a family.

Had a life beyond some.

Yet, deep within,

A child once nameless,

Could never separate her from reality;

Deep within, her heart bound by

Lost, lonely, abandoned, hopeless, dazed, and confused.

Why Do I Do It?

Why do I start the things I know I will never finish?

Why do I apply for something I know I haven’t got the heart for? Something I tried two times before and failed.

So, I signed up for selling Avon. Many of you don’t know I have signed up twice in the past. That’s why I don’t want to tell my family and friends. I don’t want to mention it to other coworkers I used to work with either. I can’t tell anyone at the school I work now because they say no personal work allowed. We signed off on it.

So, I’m stuck. My mind is thinking just fill the campaign brochures and “accidentally leave them around where you go”. Maybe someone will look at it, maybe not. Maybe it’ll be thrown away. Maybe it’ll be popped into a bag who’s owner will take it home and browse through it. Maybe someone would call. All these maybes and nothing to motivate me or scream at me, “Do it. Dooo iiiittttt.” I don’t remember where that line was from but I know I have heard it before somewhere. Was it Hannah Montana? I think it was Lily saying it to Miley. But I can’t figure out the episode. Flashback to that show.

Not only am I talking about Avon, but also my crocheting projects. I tried making flowers wanting to connect them. Nope, that quickly went down the drain. I also told myself I want to sell blankets on eBay. Im not making many to sell on it. It’s just a goal that’s staring me down, but when I reach out for it, I get distracted, tired and sleepy, or too lazy to do anything for the goal.

Just like yesterday I brought a book downstairs to read. I knew I was exhausted but I still told myself I’ll read anyways. Took the book downstairs and never even opened a page.

Same goes for writing. I used to write a lot. Everyday, any day. Now, I have no desire in me for daily writing. I lost that part of me. When that part comes back it’s only for a minute. Once a week or so I get inspirations. But my creativeness I feel has fallen apart. And that’s what makes me me.

I haven’t been keeping up with My Trending Stories. Mainly because I can’t type post through phone. I need a laptop and I barely use my laptop because I don’t carry it wherever I go. Same for tablet of the site works on there.

On the positive side, I haven’t given up on this blog site. I only have been posting once or twice a week. Sometimes, short daily post. But at least that’s something.

I have two ideas I wanted to write. Wanted to write on MTS site, but forgot I can’t with phone. Might try and write them down today.

Prompt: Complicated+MTS: His Last Days

Prompt: Complicated

MTS- My Trending Storieshttps://mytrendingstories.com/profile/lisa-maria/

Webster’s Dictionary defines complicated as “difficult to analyze, understand, or explain.” Life is complicated. When you’re a little kid though, life wasn’t all that complicated. All the worries and stress are at a distance as you roll down a hill laughing, run with the wind, soar like you’re flying through the sky, etc. As you grow older, reality hits you. You see more and more things clearly. You watch the ones you love suffer in pain and lose them after the storm. You question everything. You question God. Why does He take away the ones you love? So many questions lead to answers that leave more questions, which are best left unanswered. Life’s complicated. We stray from the path we used to follow- a path of hopes of tomorrow- a path of love- only to find ourselves lost in anguish and destruction. Some can turn back, others are lost for good.

My mind wanders memories of my Dad who passed away last March. Within those memories, I remember the past two years my Dad used to say he wanted to spend his last days in the forest. I wonder why for I couldn’t fathom anyone living in a forest, especially on their last days. Then I see pictures of forest, hear sounds of nature’s songs and realize maybe that’s why. The forest can be many things- adventurous, dangerous, dark, scary, etc. Among the many descriptions, the forest can also be calming and peaceful.

During my Dad’s last days, I wonder if he did visit a forest. When he had moments of sleep, did he dream of walking with God through the trails? Did he sit beside a tree and hear the birds sing? Did he feel lonely? Did he feel safe?

On his last days, I remember turning on the television. He said I could flip through the channels and so I did. Channel after channel I surfed until I found some images of flowers and nature’s beauty pictured on the screen. Dad saw it and he smiled when I told him he used to say he wanted to spend his last days in the forest. I didn’t know it was really his last days. But I’m glad it made him smile to see those.

Trying to clean my room, as always I became distracted. Throwing away papers, I found a notebook. Flipping through pages, I saw a poem, which reminded me of my Dad. I know he was the reason why I sat down and found an image of a forest. I know he was the reason behind this poem. I don’t remember writing it. I don’t remember which image I looked at while writing it. But something about the forest and Dad saying he wanted to spend his last days there moved me. Something about it made me get lost in that picture enough to write this poem. According to the date and time, I wrote this poem at midnight on January 14, 2016. You would think I would remember considering it was written this year. But I don’t. The poem itself is written in another post; however, I will add it onto this one as well.

Dear God,
oh, how I wish,
I wish to be lost in a forest.
The many shades of green
and sounds of water streams.
Birds chirp a tune,
at night, campfires fume,
a peaceful walk through its trails,
calming my awakened stress.
Forest, God bless.
Sending serenity
with an owls hoot,
night time crickets,
a morning sun
to awaken the hearts.
How do I fall out of love
with a sight like that?
A melody sung
while adventures begun.
What journeys do these high trees bring?
Where does the wind blow me?
What do the animals ring?
Is there a new beginning
somewhere deep in a forest?

*peace&God Bless*
Lisa Maria

Prompt: Apology

Sometimes I feel like it is very easy nowadays to say sorry. I wonder if when it’s being said, does the person really mean it or are they just throwing it all around.

Apology used to mean saying sorry and trying to do better. Maybe it’s me, but I feel like I’m stuck in a rerun at times when someone says sorry, yet, still keeps doing what they apologized for. Does that make sense?

My Dad was a neutral man. He never expected any apologies from anyone. If someone did bad to him, he never let it get to him. Or so it seemed. I watched him stand or sit. He’d be meditating. Sometimes he’d use his hands- shaking a finger or gesturing as if he was letting stuff out (I don’t know how to explain it).

I wish I was like that. I started thinking about it two days ago. Why can’t I be like that? He’d always say to not argue. Forgive and forget. But I was too stubborn to do that. He’d also say to tell God everything and leave it at that.

Telling God a list of things done was hard. Writing was easier. But He’s not in front of me. I can’t see him. Sometimes, telling Him it all just feels useless. Like what’s the point?

It’s like when I just talk to someone about my bad day hoping it’ll make me feel better. It helps others. But not me. It doesn’t help me. It feels useless. Useless because talking about does nothing. In the end, I’m left with all the things I told that person unchanged.

Maybe for that minute I can see it helped. Helped forget the anxiety or whatever negative feeling I was in. But when that person walks away and I’m left to stand alone facing upto the thing I dreaded before that seemed less dreadful for a minute, all the dreaded feelings comes bursting into my head and I’m filled with the negatives once again.

I never understood how talking about your feelings or thoughts help. I feel like it’s useless. But at the same time not talking will eat me up from inside. The final result isn’t any better when I’m left knowing I’m right back to where I started after the person leaves.

Apology

Prompt: Narrow- I Don’t Understand…

I really don’t understand how some classrooms have white crayons along with various different shades of blues, reds, purples, pinks, greens, browns, and yellows. They even have gray and a bronzey one. But the one color a lot of kids ask me for they don’t have…black. They may have one in there. A tiny left over one that’s hard to find among all the others piled up on there.

I can understand telling the kids to not use black too much. Some kids, if you give them the black crayon, that’s all they want. They will color all over the page with it. Nothing wrong with that. Unless you’re encouraging them to use a variety, there’s nothing wrong.

If kids are being encouraged to use a variety of colors, then where is the black? I don’t understand this. You can’t just remove black out of the pile just because some kids will use that and only that all over there page. Kids need to be encouraged by giving choices. They need to be free to decide as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else.

Maybe black stands out for some kids. How will the other colors stand out? How could you make them stand out without removing the innocent color you just made a culprit.

This is what I came up with for photo challenge on: Narrow My head formed the words Narrow Minded, which reminded me of this moment.

Bible Journaling

Who has ever thought of writing in their Bibles? Who has been scolded for it? Well, these days new Bibles are coming out encouraging, calling our creative side out. And no punishment given 😉

This morning, I stopped at Family Christian Store for Bible Journaling. They placed on the table a book with different ways to journal. Some had pictures you could color and others had lines for either drawing or writing on.

This specific store I visited, gave a variety of stickers, no-tear tapes, paint, markers, crayola pencils, etc. After explaining Bible Journaling, they let us roam our creative side. We colored. We talked. Some painted. Some stickered hearts and taped musical notes.

This event was only one hour. But it didn’t feel like one hour passed. After the event, we all sat for a little longer talking. Then, went on our ways.

I liked this event so much and hope Family Christian Store does this frequently. It gave me a chance to meet new people. The manager and one of her employees who led today’s Bible Study were so nice. The manager mentioned a little bit about Family Christian that most people don’t know. She also mentioned her mission trip to Haiti and meeting the children there.

There were only five in our group- a rather small group. But that gave us a chance to talk and express ourselves. A lady that sat beside me, I talked to her before we sat down at the table, she helped me find an Inspired Bible Journaling book. We thought they ran out of those, but she found a few in another area. This same lady also gave me a name to locate online that does Bible Study because I struggle with reading the Bible at times, she thought it would be helpful. I have thought of doing Bible Study. So, that is something I will look into!

So for all those hiding their creative side in their Bibles. Forget all the rules and express yourself! It’s a fun way to relax, meditate, and focus. While doing all three you are also praying, too. It’s like singing, twice you pray! Right? And… you don’t get punished for it 😛

Punishment