Wife

War

The dream

Always the same dream 

A sun covered in blood 

Over a field of grey

Lifeless thousands 

Innocents where Death took them

Now waiting for judgement

Waiting to judge

Blackness with a red star

Shining down on the aftermath 

Death has a large appetite 

Its jaws bite down on all

Gnawing on their inanimate bodies

The dying are crying out against it

But their life is but a candle in a breeze

Soon to extinguish

They were but innocents 

Caught in the crossfire

But not I

Too long have I fought this war

Come Hades, come quickly old friend

My time is near 

And I am tired

Take me

Treading Water

What's the purpose in this life of mine
To keep swimming in an ocean without end
The tide pulling me far from shore
They say I'm fine
That I'll survive
But I'm only human
My strength is leaving fast
How long can I stay afloat?
I sink into nothing
A world where I can't breathe
Fire within but water without
Suffocating
Floating
Flying
In poisoned air
Finally a dream come true
A never ending dream
Isn't life beautiful?
It is now...

On Faithfulness

Folder: 
Simple Thoughts

"Don't get so frustrated, 

it's only a book, 

or a few words

that you threw,

 

hoping they might stick.

Sound familiar?

Surreal,

especially if you've stuck with it.

 

Life can be funny like that,

in fact, it is,

that the same things

seem to alwaus happen

 

to people who may wish

it wasn't the case;

assuming it's negative.

Once you give it a second

 

to process,

it's wild to think

the same exact advice

you give

 

is the opposite

of how you live

your own life.

Some advice...

 

Twice now I've had to step in.

To stop the golden desires

of sundrops on skin,

forbidden,

 

when there has already been seeds sown,

a tree has been growing,

and now there's doubt,

the axe lays on its side

 

nearby. Nearly every time,

it can hurt to cry,

but not if infidelity

is the reason why. At least,

 

let's hope 

that's not the case.

I'd hate to see the fallout,

it'd be all over the place."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just some thoughts on my ever-increasing number of friends who have yet to reach relationship goals... 

Philosophy of a Life-song

If your life was a song,

what would it sing?

Would it's lyrics edify?

Will it speak of the many people who's 

lives were touched by your existence?

Is it going to show that you stood for something?

Compose a motif that others will want to replicate.

My Soul Mate


My soul mate

How wonderful is our fate

That today we are but one

In love and all life can bring of fun

Layla, my true love; my life

What will life be without your smiles,

That glisters more than the sun shines!

May our love beget bountiful fruits, I pray.

Fruits of joy that comfort the eyes;

Thus, let us persevere at times of ups and downs,

With faith strong in Allah, our hope lies.

While our love on earth is nothing

But a glimpse of immortal love; unending

Where our love will grow taller than the skies

And expand more than what has ever been conceived by the eyes

Author's Notes/Comments: 

even though I'm not marreid!!!

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Of A Woman Named Rain

Eyes closed.

 

The distant sound of lazy, rolling waves caresses your ears. You're no stranger to patterns and repetition, but the predictable noise of the tide is somehow different, somehow comforting.

 

Inhaling deep breaths of salty air that carries the song of no responsibilities or cares, you revel deeply in the foreign sensation of utter tranquility. 

 

A bird calls from somewhere nearby and it shakes you only slightly from this dream like reverie.

 

A perfect escape.

 

You find yourself humming along to the tune of the breeze as it playfully ruffles your hair; the thought of sangria crosses your mind for a brief moment, but drinks are best for leaving the office behind.

 

And right now, you're in paradise,

no liquor required.

 

You stretch sore muscles, still stiff from sitting in that damned chair for what feels like days on end. The warm tropical air seems to breathe life back into a weary body.

 

Your shoulders momentarily shudder. The weight of your normal life unexpectedly seeps in like an unwanted visitor.

 

Guilt.

 

You fumble and struggle to push it out of your mind and refocus again on the warmth of the midday sun against your face.

 

Outside of this place, there's a storm. A relentless hurricane that batters against stability; torrential rains pound against buildings and flooded streets keep you trapped in that  office.

 

It's a dreary and abysmal existence.

 

If you think hard enough, you can recall a time when the sun would shine bright, and the sky was an endless sea of the richest blue.

When birds chirped melodies and the trees gladly borrowed  shade with leafy green palms.

 

Yet what once was life in technicolor gave way to dismal greyscale, and soon the rains came. What was supposed to be a season stretched on for uncomfortable lengths, and one day  you realized the storm was here to stay.

 

The relentless showering of water upon rooftops, and the continual howling of angry wind was enough to drive a man mad.

 

Yet you'd caught glimpses of the sun a few times- the briefest moment when the blanket of sullen grey cracked, and for those few seconds, hope was renewed.

 

Hope that the sun may yet shine again, that the birds may return; the only memories of the storm now collecting in raindrops rolling off their feathers.

 

It wasn't much, but it kept you holding on, and that's when you stumbled upon the secret place. A hidden corner of the world, somehow untouched by the storm outside.

 

It was the best and worst thing you could have discovered.

 

Each visit was a small slice of paradise, a break from watery misery, but your footprints tracked muddy reminders of bleak reality every time you entered. You feined ignorance but couldn't turn a blind eye to what was happening.

 

White sands, gradually staining with the murky darkness of the storm.

 

So often you mused to yourself if this place was your savior, or ultimate damnation.

For as pleasant and relaxing as it was, the nagging guilt of leaving others outside  as you indulged in relief left you walking back into the downpour with your head down,  and heart heavy.

 

It was impossible to tell if this tropical escape was necessary for staying your sanity, or if it was only a matter of time before it too fell prey to the swallowing blackness looming on the doorstep.

 

Only the roaming hands on the clock face of life could know the answer you searched for. And if you were honest with yourself, nothing else could quite compare to the way this beachy escape could make you feel. It stirred a long dormant part of you awake, and to lose this secret cove could feel like severing a lifeline.

 

You needed this.

 

For a man can only take so much mud and water squelching in his shoes before he slips under the same floods that have claimed so many before him.

 

"Perhaps, just perhaps, ignorance truly is bliss"

 

With renewed clarity, you dig your toes beneath warm sands  while the seagulls call, and a smile of contentment settles on your face.

 

When the breeze blows just right,

 

and the waves crash in tune,

 

you can nearly drown out the sound of the wailing winds behind you.

 

 

Truckers Wife

Unpublished Work © March 7, 2015 Shanell Meek
 

I don't know how you do it they say,

I don't know how you stay,
When he's never there, 
But it's so easy you see,
To me he is everywhere. 
He's my morning wake up call,
He's my afternoon lunch date,
He's my dinner date, 
He's the last voice I hear each day,
He's there in my dreams, 
He's here in my heart,
He's here in every way,
Except one. 
It's the life of a truckers girl I lead, 
He's a hard working man,
With a dream. 
He's taking me along, 
On the ride of my life. 
Someday he's going to make me,
His truckers wife. 
Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this for my love.

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6 Camels

Folder: 
Humor

 user img

 

6 Camels

 


Jean M was telling her

husband Ed that

in some countries

6 camels are the

required dowry

from a wife.

 

He replied:

I'd want at least

a whole pack!


-sns-

 

http://www.health-news.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/ken-sabuk-camels.jpg

 

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Pressure

Everyday she goes to work

She spreads a fake smile, like the sun shimmering through the clouds

Nobody likes a sad worker, forced to appear happy every day

Customers are terrible, they don’t really care

Guys flirt, see a beautiful face and thin figure

They don’t see the skeletons in her closet or the problems that she faces

 

“A hammer to the knee caps.”

Obscure phrase to some, reality to her.

She struggles to fight for respect, a member in Leonidas’s army

Against all that would enjoy watching her fall.

The mother-in-law, sees flaws everywhere except herself

The Grandmother, spies with a cloudy lens.

The husband, confused and over demanding with everyone but himself.

 

She fights on until the last second of daylight.

Then suffers in silence while she tries to sleep in agonizing pain.

No breaks, no time off. The pain haunts her with a ticking hour glass.

In everyone else’s eyes, she washes the floor with a muddy rag

In her eyes, she replaces the tiles with delicate crystals.

 

Mistakes show up like hay, whereas perfection is the needle

The husband attempts to juggle in the circus of life.

School, son, family, all crumble in mid air

You could pack a 12 car train with his mistakes

He paints poorly drawn Graffiti to try and make it better.

 

Instead he decides to send the train off a cliff in a fiery explosion.

Buy a new one, washed, fresh white paint glimmering in the light.

No passengers, not yet.

 

As he preps the train filled with the coal needed to send it on its way towards his goal

He notices the barren wasteland of his relationship.

Passes the farm lands of rotten crops, the town covered in broken streets.

A mayor in his relationship, fallen asleep at the wheel.

 

He wonders as his train approaches the station, skeletons hiding in houses

Is it too late to fix? Should the town be blown up and another founded?

The most important resident has collapsed in the center

Beaten and broken, a long battle fought, she doesn’t see a victory.

No tears left to shed, new enemies arisen.

 

A demon sulks near the mayor’s house. A book gripped in his bulging claws,

A sinister sneer across his face.

He’s almost ready to attack the world with his full power. More books behind him

A bandit on the edge of town offers refuge, his intentions unknown

A stranger in the mist.

The mayor, a hardhat on his head and Thor’s hammer in his hand

 

He promises a bright future, mistakes learned.

It will take a while he thinks. But if allowed

He promises to make a glorious city of his relationship

 

Atonement for his recklessness. 

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