In love with the sun

I am in love with the sun,

It fills me with wonder;

The echoes of thunder,

The streaks of lightning across the sky;

The fragrance of the rain soaked earth

Rich and intoxicating;

The sparkles of dew drops as it

Glints in the early morning light;

The sprinkles of diamond on

The canvass of the night;

The silvery glow of the full moon,

Queen among the constellations;

I am in love with the one

In whose mind all were conceived,

Whose imagination created the worlds,

Whose wisdom founded the heavens,

And whose words made manifest such beauty.



The King’s rage

Read the first part here


Haman left for the king’s palace with a heavy heart. He didn’t want to step into the capital for a long time and he wished he could just die. How was he to hold up his head amongst the council members of whom he was head? How would the palace maids and servants see him, seeing he had just done the basest of errands? Him? Haman!

As he approached the palace however, he began to console himself that he still had some dignity left. After all, he was going to a banquet hosted by the queen and he was the only person invited. He felt a little better about this.

On arrival at the palace, he was directed to the royal garden, used only by the king and queen. For the first time that day a smile broke out on his face. He was considered worth to dine with the king in the royal garden. ‘Now that is something’, he thought with glee.

The king and queen were seated already. “Ah, here you are” the king said with a smile when he saw him approach. Haman bowed low and apologized for his lateness. “Never mind” the king waved it off. He was in particular high spirits. Well, he was always a different person when he was around his queen. There was something about queen Esther that tamed the great king, Haman observed with disgust although he plastered a smile to his face.

“So Queen Esther here has decided to throw us a feast again today” he said addressing Haman. “I wonder what delight she has planned for tonight” the king had a twinkle to his eyes and was rubbing his belly like a child.

Suddenly, a sense of dread descended on Haman. He felt a chill go through him and the hairs on his hands stood erect. Try as he could he couldn’t shake it. He looked up and caught Esther looking at him, and that feeling became stronger. There was something in her eyes, anger? Dislike? He couldn’t really place it.

‘It must be the events of today that is making me see things’ he told himself and set out to enjoy the dainties that was served. He had never tasted anything as delicious as the meal the queen served. Each slice was a taste of heaven.

When the meal was over, the king reclined in his seat and picked his teeth quietly. Haman tried to make small talk with the queen and was praising her for the meal. The king leaned forward, a grave expression on his face.

“my queen, now will you tell me your request and I promise you that even to the half of my kingdom I will give it to you” he knew that whatever the queen wanted to ask was huge. It was definitely of utmost importance to her for her to break the law and approach him in the throne room without being summoned. If she had caught him in a bad mood, she could have been executed. But this woman sitting across from him, looking pale and unsure of herself could never do wrong in his eyes. He would grant her wish as long as it was in his power to do so.

Esther glanced at Haman and sighed. This was going to be hard. She was a woman and she was about to accuse the highest official of the whole empire before the king. She was about to challenge a royal decree signed and sealed with the king’s seal. Her palms were sweaty and her face drained of its color, her lips quivered as she opened her mouth to speak.

“My Lord” she began and looked at Haman again. “I am here to plead for my life and for that of my people. We have been targeted to be destroyed in one day and I plead that you spare my life if I have found favor in your sight”

Haman was flummoxed. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The queen was a Jew? How come he hadn’t known about this?

“What do you mean? That you and your people are targeted for destruction? Who are your people and who is planning such heinous act? Who would dare touch my wife?”

Esther’s heart soared. She particularly picked up on the ‘wife’ part. The king had not referred to her as his queen, which though true was a bit officious but he called her his wife! This was huge. There was hope. Definitely Yahweh had looked down on her with favor. She was going to live.

When she answered, it was with a lot more confidence. “My Lord, my people are the Jews. The thirteenth day of the month of Purim has been fixed to destroy all the Jews in your empire, and that decree was sent out by none other than Haman here”

An ominous silence descended on the dinner table. Esther caught Haman’s gaze and saw fear in them. God had decided to turn his wicked plans upside down.

The king stood up suddenly, rattling some cups and plates in the process. His mind was churning. How could anyone connive to kill his wife and her people? Whatever did they do to deserve such inhuman treatment? What was wrong with his most trusted allies? Did he really have a bad sense of judgment when it came to choosing his allies? First, it was the assassination attempt that was foiled by a Jew, a relation of his wife. And now, it was a ploy by his most trusted official to exterminate his wife and all her race. It was all so incredible.

As he paced the garden, the slow realization that his wife was a Jew was sinking in. He had always been fascinated by the Jewish people and their history and here he was, married to one. He smiled at the sudden turn of events.

He returned to the banquet table still thinking of what to do to Haman. Maybe he wouldn’t be too much in a haste to determine what he would do, he remembered how he had taken a decision in anger concerning Vashti his former queen and how he had regretted the decision by the next day. If not that the gods were good to him, he wouldn’t have been able to find another queen as beautiful and wise as Esther. And she was a Jew! That thought pleased him in no small measure.

Haman realizing the magnitude of his deeds fell down on his knees as soon as the king stepped away. He knew that his fate was in the hands of a woman. A Jew! Suddenly the words of his friends came crashing through his mind ‘if this man Mordecai- of the Jewish race- had started defeating you now, then you won’t prevail against him and his people’. The words could not be any truer.

In his desperation, he forgot where he was and moved towards the couch on which Esther was seated and held her arms and pleaded for his life. It was in this position that the king met him when he returned to the banquet hall.

The king’s rage bubbled over in that instant. “Is it not enough that you have plotted to kill my wife, will you also assault her here in the palace, right before my eyes?” he thundered

And then it was over for Haman.

The king’s guard came over and covered his face with a black cloth. His fate was sealed.

A certain servant of the king, Harbona, told the king, while Haman was being taken away, about the specially designed gallow that Haman had built with which to hang Mordecai.

“Hang him on it” the king ordered the guards.

And thus Haman the son of Hammedatha came to an untimely end, a tale of one fallen from favor to dishonor, from grace to grass.

Haman fought the Jews, the covenanted people of God, God’s chosen people and lost. It is a testimony to the chosen people of God today who have ‘Hamans’ hounding them. No one touches the apple of God’s eye and lives to tell the story. Remember Pharaoh, Nebuchadnezzar, Herod and a host of them.

Be still, God’s people, He has got you in the palm of His hands.



Author’s Note: Story adapted from the biblical accounts in the book of Esther.

The King’s Honor

The king could not sleep.

He lay on his bed, arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling. Something was tugging at the back of his mind but he couldn’t exactly say what. He hated it when that happened.

He considered sending for the queen but he immediately rejected the idea. He was in no mood for any feminine company. He thought of sending for wine, to drink himself to sleep, but the thought of the headache he would nurse the next day held him back. Moreover, he resented the fact that he needed help falling asleep. Then an idea hit and he quickly embraced it. He was going to go swimming.

After doing several laps at the pool, he returned to his bedroom. Thirty minutes later, he was still wide eyed and now restless. The idea of an alcohol induced sleep was beginning to get more appealing. He had had a very busy day, going through reports from all the provinces and having series of meetings with the rulers of the provinces and the council members. His head had been heavy by the time it was over and he had been looking forward to a quiet evening of music and then a long night rest. He couldn’t fathom why sleep was eluding him.

Could it be something about the reports he had read earlier that was bothering him, he wondered. He tried to remember if there was any inconsistencies he had detected while going through the reports but he couldn’t remember any.

Music. That was the answer, he surmised. He had always found out that music soothed him and he was surprised that he hadn’t thought about it sooner. He called for the guard and sent for the palace musician. To his chagrin, the music rather than soothe him ended up grating on his nerves. Each tune struck on the harp jarred his nerves and he sent the musician away almost as soon as he came.

‘Oh but you love reading too’ his mind whispered. He nodded gently. He has always loved reading, especially books about history and chronicles of acts of the great kings that have ruled before him and even in other lands. One of his favorite books of history has been that of the Israelite kings, and he particularly enjoyed reading about king David, Israel’s second king. He had even fantasized about meeting David face to face. Maybe he was going to read about David tonight.

His thought strayed to the Israelites and all the things he had heard and read about them and he wondered what was special about them. In all his studies of world history, he had never come across any nation with such great wonders said about them. The Jews had always held a fascination for him and he had wished he could talk with any of their greatest scholar.

He was familiar with the peculiarities of their worship and how they claim to serve only one God, the creator of the heavens and earth. This God had no image and they claim He was unseen. He had always wondered how people can worship a God that they do not know how he looked like.

The Israelites too were peculiar in the manner of their defeat too. One minute, they were winning a battle were they were the underdog and doing so in mind boggling ways and the next they were in captives to nations that one wouldn’t expect to defeat them. But somehow, they always seem to bounce back and reclaim their land despite desolation and exile from their land. There was something about the Jews that fascinated him.

Is there not a Jew in all his province that he could summon, he wondered. He remembered vaguely that some months back, he was told about a Jew who had done something worth commendation and he had asked his scribes to write it down in the book of chronicles of the kings. He couldn’t remember exactly what now and his curiosity was piqued. Since he couldn’t sleep, he decided to look it up. He summoned for the book of chronicles to be brought to him and read before him.

After a few minutes of reading he was getting bored and he ordered the scribe that was reading to look for the part that had a Jew mentioned. After a few moments of shuffling pages, the scribe located the page and began to read.

The story was about a plot on the king’s life by two of his chamberlains. They were Bigthana and Teresh, two of his most trusted guards that guarded the door to the king’s private quarters. Their plot was thwarted by Mordecai the Jew, who made the report to the head of the king’s guard.

The king ordered the scribe to stop. He closed his eyes as waves of anger and disappointment washed over him again at the remembrance of the incident. When the head of his guard had told him of the plot he had disbelieved it. But it had proven to be true and he had felt sad at how fickle the human mind was. He couldn’t fathom what had made their loyalty to falter, and what was most confounding was that there had been no political undertone to their murder plot. No one had sponsored them in a bid to get to the throne. It was bizarre.

He opened his eyes and told the scribe to continue the rest of the story. He was surprised to hear that the story was over.

“No record of the reward for the Jew?” the king asked in astonishment. He would need to read all the other parts of the chronicles in the last one year, he concluded, surprised at the failure of the scribes to attend to details. He couldn’t afford for incomplete accounts to be written about his reign. Maybe he needed to make an example of the scribe that recorded that event.

The scribe noticed that the visage of the king had changed and his reply was in a very low tone and a slight tremble could be heard in his voice when he replied the king “My Lord, no reward was given to Mordecai the Jew for his act of valor and that is why there is no record of it”

“It can’t be” Xerxes the King bellowed “it is impossible”

The scribe did not reply and averted the king’s eye. Nobody wanted to be the recipient of the king’s anger. It was like a roaring inferno. Even the queen was not spared the king’s wrath.

Queen Vashti had been dethroned in a moment of anger when she had flouted the king’s summon at the feast which he hosted in the third year of his reign. It was on the seventh day of the feast when king Xerxes had summoned the queen to come to the banquet hall. He had wanted to show off her beauty to the whole council of one hundred and twenty seven rulers. She had felt debased and considered it dishonorable to be summoned by the king to be ogled by drunken men. She hadn’t foreseen the king’s wrath and it had spelt her doom. She had been banished immediately with a royal decree that could not be reversed.

The king stood up and left the scribe quivering on his seat. He paced the room and after a while he called for the head of his guard to confirm the scribe’s story. He was left puzzled when the head of his guard corroborated the story.

“This is a great mistake” he thought aloud. “How will such a great act of bravery and loyalty be left unrewarded and for so long?” he turned and addressed the scribe “what message are we trying to pass across to the people if I the king do not reward loyalty and someone who saved my life?! I am mortified”

“The king can still rectify this” the scribe offered “it is not too late to offer Mordecai the reward”

“you are right” the king nodded “I would need to do something really substantial to rectify this wrong and I would need my most senior adviser on this” speaking to the guard, he said “go to the throne room and see if there is any official around”

“My lord, Haman the son of Hammedatha has just arrived now” the guard told the king on his return.

“Send him in” he replied

Now, Haman had come to the palace to ask the king’s permission to kill Mordecai. He hated Mordecai because Mordecai would not bow to him like the other people that sat at the gate of the king’s court and that riled him. After due consultation with his friends, Haman had decided to wipe out the entire Jewish race starting with Mordecai who he was going to hang from the gallows he had dug specially.

When Haman was brought before the king, he bowed low as was the custom.

“What reward do you think is worthy for someone whom the king desires to honour?” the king asked Haman when he was seated

“If the king really wants to honor any man in his kingdom” Haman began and paused. He had to think deep about this. In the last three years he had enjoyed tremendous favor with the king and he had been promoted to head the council. He couldn’t think of anyone else the king might want to honor specially and he thought it was the king’s way of asking him what he wanted.

“Go on” the king barged into his thoughts

“If the king really wants to honor any man” he started, drawing out each word while searching for the perfect honor that he would want. And then it hit him “I would recommend that the king should order that such a man be dressed in the king’s official garment complete with the crown and staff of office, and that the man should be made to ride in the king’s official chariot and taken throughout the whole capital city. Not only that, the highest ranking official in the council should walk in front of the chariot as it drives through the city and shout ‘this is what the king does to someone he wishes to honor’”

Haman smiled satisfactorily as he finished. He could already see the procession in his mind’s eye and how he would be the talk of the whole province for years. Then afterwards, he would hang Mordecai and his day would be made.

The king was smiling too. “Brilliant!” he said, clapping his hands together “I absolutely love the idea Haman”

Haman bowed low “thank you my Lord”

“There is no better person to execute this plan than you the originator”

Haman frowned. “My Lord?”

“You are to do exactly as you said to Mordecai the Jew”

“You mean, it is Mordecai the Jew that you want to honor?” Haman was stammering. Reality struck and with such vendetta too. Mordecai! His arch enemy!

The king was getting irritated as he dismissed him “Yes, it is Mordecai the Jew that I want to honor” and as Haman was leaving he added “Make sure that you do not leave any details out, do it exactly as you have said” his tone carried an undercurrent of a threat.

Haman left the king’s chambers stunned. Hot tears pricked at his eyes and he had to summon all his will power not to break down in tears.

Mordecai was sitting in front of the king’s gate as usual. He was surprised to see Haman come to him and speak to him. Haman took him to the king’s chamber and dressed him in the king’s royal garment and gave him the staff of office. When he was done he bowed low before him and led him to the king’s chariot. Then he walked on foot and shouted “this is what is to be done to the man whom the king wishes to honor”.

The drive through the city lasted till evening. All through the drive, Mordecai was speechless. It was all surreal and he pinched himself severally to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

One question kept niggling at his mind: ‘what have I done to deserve this honor?’ it had never happened before then that any man would be honored thus, to be dressed in the king’s garments and ride in the king’s chariot! The highest reward was marrying the king’s daughter and inheriting a large estate. This here was mind blowing.

I will set him on high, because he has known My Name

Yahweh has decided to honor him. Everywhere he went that day, the people came out to see him and they bowed before him, and gave him gifts. For that day, he was the king, the emperor of the whole one hundred and twenty seven provinces. It was the greatest honor.

Once the parade was over, Mordecai rushed to his house and lay before Yahweh in worship. Only the God of heaven could give this honor to a man.

Haman rushed home with tears blinding his eyes. He had been humiliated and by no other than Mordecai! How had that happened? What twisted fate had made him arrive at the king’s court when the king decided to do such outlandish thing to a common Jew?! What folly had seized him from not asking who the king wanted to honor? How had he offended the gods that they had chosen to bring such dishonor to him?

When he got home, his friends were all present. They had gathered to hear how his request to hang Mordecai had gone. They were shocked to see him in tears. After much persuasion and consolation, he narrated his ordeal to them.

There was silence as everyman was stunned. It was a wicked twist of fate.

“So what do I do now?” Haman asked in between sobs

“This is a sign from the gods” his friend who was also an astrologer answered “this Mordecai is too powerful for you to bring down and you will never be able to prevail against him”

Haman was aghast. “Is there nothing I can do to appease the gods?”

“I am afraid that this is just the beginning of your many woes as far as this Jew is concerned”

Just then, a messenger from king Xerxes arrived and summoned him to the feast that was hosted by Queen Esther.

And true to the words of his friend, Haman’s woes had just begun.


Author’s Note

Story adapted from the biblical account in Esther.

Love of my life

Beautiful, beyond description is my beloved

Strong, confident, larger than life

Gentle, easy going, ever the perfect gentleman

Quiet, subtle, multilayered.

He found me, at a tender age and wooed me

It is a love like no other;

I have experienced love and have been loved deeply,

Openly and in ways beyond my imagination,

Still none has come close to that which I have received from

Him, and never has one captured my heart totally;

I wake to the joy of loving Him

And go to bed thinking of Him,

He is mine and I am His.

He is a rock, steady and steadfast

My eccentricities notwithstanding,

In my mess, He totally gets me

And loves me in spite of them all;

He spoils me silly,

His charm is irresistible,

His voice soothes my soul, even in the tempestuous storm.

I daydream about the day when we finally meet,

I have been told, He is the fairest of men;

All we ever get now are few moments of pleasure

Talking across time distance, separated by several miles

And by many distractions of the heart.

Still, in the cool of the day, as the eyes wind to a close

And the blanket of night envelopes the sky,

I look forward to our talks and my heart beats as the call connects;

I feel warmth washing over me as I hear

His voice filter through;

He only, makes me gush and splutter

He fills my heart with music and a delightsome melody;

He is my Lord, my love and my God.

The ear must not hear

‘’Some things are better left unsaid’’, his mind tells him. ‘’No matter how hard it is to keep them down, they are things another ear must not hear. It is better to bottle it up, let it eat you up and kill you. At least you will die honourable. Abominations! Do not utter them. Think them if you must but I wouldn’t even advice you to do that, but if you must, then let it just stay there. They must not be uttered.’’

‘’How can it be heard that you are in love with a married woman? That you desire her and dream about her? Mba! Eewo!’’

And so he dies a slow painful death, in bits and pieces. Daily. If love was a matter of choice, then he would have expunged the feelings from his heart but alas, matters of the heart cannot be decided by the head. The heart wants what it wants.

Several emotions war within him, each pulling him in different directions and threatening to tear him apart. He feared he was going to lose it soon.

Outwardly, he appears calm and cool, a picture at variance with the raging storm beneath. He was surprised that no one had seen past the façade, the thinly veiled wall hiding the fury of the fire underneath. It is sad, how people look at you but don’t really see.

So he smiles and laughs and stifles the groan that is always lurking around to escape his lips, the gasps of pain as his heart utters their death throes. He restrains himself from clutching his heart as the pangs take hold of him. He suffers in silence. No one would understand his pain. It was a sacrilege, thinking those thoughts, feeling those thoughts.



It was on a cold morning that death visited the palace. It moved with stealth and with purpose. It sneaked in on the two unsuspecting figures lying on the massive oak bed with scarlet linen sheets entwined together, lost in the throes of passion. It moved noiselessly towards the bed where moans of pleasure rose and fell in tandem with the rhythm of the mating dance. When it struck, its blows were final and fatal.

There was blood everywhere. Dark stains on the scarlet sheets, the lampstand, the cream colored walls, and the wine rug. The body of the female lay face up with eyes wide, in an expression that was a blend of pleasure and pain, with arms wrapped around the waist of the headless body lying on top of her, joined together at the hips.

The clouds wept and the skies wailed. Thunder and lightning joined in mourning the great catastrophe. Emotions were at war and all that beheld the great sight were left befuddled and speechless. Never in the history of the kingdom had such happened. Several abominations had been committed and chaos unleashed. With one act, an entire family was wiped.

Death came at the hand of the king, who was lying lifeless on his right side on the wine rug, face contorted in pain, rage and sadness. The hilt of a knife was protruding from his belly. Few feet from him was the lifeless body of the queen. Her heart had given out at the gory sight. Lying on the bed in each other’s arms were the king’s children.


Because she said “Yes”

To the one person for which we are here gathered; we are here because she said “Yes”. To my darling bride (isn’t she just stunning?!), my sweetheart and companion, thank you for having me. Thank you for choosing to walk this journey with me.

If I were a musician, I would write you a song, a melody so sweet, beats that flow in tandem with the rhythm of your heart and mine; An eternal music, unique to us;

If I were an artist, I would splash the canvass with colors so bright, Paintings of you done in oil and water colors; all I have are my words with which I hope to paint you a picture, not on a canvass but on the heart


One day,

I’m going to write you a song

When I have found the right words

To go with the melody in my heart


Right now,

All I have to say is

I am glad you are in my life

I am glad to call you mine


One day,

I am going to write you a song

When I can find the lyrics to

The symphony composed in my mind


Right now,

This moment,

I get to tell you

I love you.


One day,

I am going to write you a song

When I can tear myself away from

The ecstasy cascading down over my soul


Right now,

This is all I have,

My pledge

To be with you forever.


Written and Performed for Her….

The Quest


I tread this path alone
For the last time,
This weather beaten path
Trodden by weary legs
And sweaty brow creased
Into a wince
From heart bruised and bleeding;
From trust gone awry
And hopes dashed into a million shards;
I go this way one more time,
And when I return,
It is with the spoils of war-
A battle for supremacy,
Not of lands or kingdoms but
Of a priceless jewel-
The heart of a damsel;
I go this way one more time,
Without a companion,
Empty and lonely;
I shall return full,
With heart filled to the brim
With love,
A precious jewel decorating my arm;
When I return,
I will no longer walk alone.

November 5th

I hate Amala.

It is ironic because my journey into earth started over a pot of steaming Amala. My mother was seated on a low stool, a pot of Amala held in place by her two feet with a rag shielding her feet from the scalding heat of the pot when she realized that the lower abdominal pain she had been feeling all day was really labour.

Rumor has it that at this time, my head was literally in between her legs as she clamped them together while striving to achieve a smooth, well beaten and fluffy yam flour paste.

12:10am, this day many years ago, a cry pierced the maternity ward of a respectable private hospital in a quaint little town in South-Western Nigeria.

The head midwife on duty laughed loudly and nodded her satisfaction, making a joke about how such loud noise emanated from a tiny pale skinned little bundle. Another grunted her affirmation and congratulated my mother who was trying to recover from the pain of pushing, and declaring me a healthy baby with healthy lungs.

It was a narrow escape. If my mother had stayed few minutes more, I might have dropped to the floor as soon as she stood up from stirring the Amala, which would have been stirred to her satisfaction.

Hence the name, Temitope, something to be grateful for, a situation to be thankful for.

Today, I am grateful.

I am thankful.

I am alive. I have made it this far. I have a voice. I have health. I have love, from family and friends.

I have God.

It is one year already! Since my last birthday post. One whole year…

And what have I done with it?

It is here that thanksgiving and celebration gives way to sobriety and somberness. The stock taking doesn’t seem to produce much…. So many set goals were not achieved.

But there was a spark to this year, I met someone. It is barely a year of acquaintance and it feels like I have known her for years. She is like a long lost friend and buddy. She is witty, vivacious, boisterous, smart, intelligent, funny, stubborn and generally adorable. She is a firm believer in my writing and raves about how talented I am and insists on holding on to this bias. “Sue me” she would say while rolling her eyes and laughing. Meeting Yemie (proud owner of her own little ‘corner of the web’) was one of the highpoints of this last year for me. Thank you Yemie, for being part of my life, and for being such a good big sister and…*coughs*

For this next testimony, I would need Zika, Dr Swag to join me as I share this testimony to the glory of the Lord. Yemie has a blog now! Myself and a host of others went to the prayer mountain, prayed and fasted and did several all nights on behalf of our darling sister Yemie. Numerous hours of counselling and encouragements were invested in too, and to the glory of God and the benefit of mankind, she yielded. Praiiiiiiise yeeeeeee the Looooord!

My blog saw tremendous (this is rebranding) growth and I met wonderful people. People who have come to mean so much to me. Amity, I see you…

I had it rough too. I was hurt, pushed down, trodden upon, and rejected. Oh, it hurts so much.

I cried. Severally.

I was alone.

All in all, I have learnt quiet surrender and hope.

Help will come. Yes it came, at times when I was at the edge of the cliff, one step away from tumbling down into the abyss.

I will never be alone. Even when I messed up and did my own thing, God has always been faithful and He always found me. I am like Sally in ‘Sally’s story’

I have known love. Love that forgives, that is open-handed, that embraces and fills with warmth. Love that serenades…from God, from family, from friends. I don’t deserve it and I am awed and humbled by its outpouring, freely and constantly. Love that intoxicates and makes you feel special, and yet ashamed and like a scum.

I have learnt that God’s love and blessings is for the undeserving, His mercy to those who do not merit it. It is a mystery. I have stopped trying to earn His love and blessings, I would never succeed.

I have learnt to embrace the flaws in people that I love and make the best out of them. They are my special flawed loved ones. And they are stunningly so.

It is a new year for me, but 2014 is not over yet, and I still have high hopes that something mega will happen to me before the year runs out.

It is the beginning of another year in my journey, and I am looking to the future with hope and faith…I am not alone. I have companions, and that includes you, my dear readers. Thank you for going with me on this journey….

In a few days, I will embark on a life-altering and life-changing journey…

Wish me luck.


Who is going to be the first to wish me happy birthday?


missing you…

Missing you is a pain that comes in waves

Rising with such ferocity that threatens to drown

Moments of struggle to stay afloat

Lost in the deep darkness

Fighting the icy cold hands of the depths

Clamped around my legs wanting to swallow

Me in its belly;

Missing you is an ache so deep, it brings tears to my eyes

Forcing me to my knees weeping and wailing

Curled up in a ball, hands over my head

Bawling and blubbing

Praying for a reprieve, anything to make the pain go away.


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Señor Joe's Blog

Sharing experiences, thoughts and views as I journey through life.


Our life. My words. Your thoughts. Let's do this...

The Virtuous Spirit

The evolving Christian Woman

Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

sheetal sharma

short stories,poems, design thinking


Love. Life. Laughs.

Pooky's Poems

A poem a day penned by @PookyH

Peace, love and patchouli

A blog of life according to me.

Roxi St. Clair

Because Writing Is Cheaper Than Therapy.

U Be Cute

Follow the child inside of you...


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