a cooking pot and twisted tales
Thoughts and Tales…A Lifestyle Blog with a Zing.
He whispers.
planting ugly seeds
of despair,
a cacophony
from the messenger
seeking to take refuge
in my head.
I whisper back,
not today, Satan!
never ever!
My whisper, more like a roar,
reverberates in my soul,
leaving shivers running from my tippy toes.
to my head.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
Joy has no colour
yet it radiates far brighter
than all the colours
put together…
I feel beautiful
not as a result of makeup
but for joy
that bubbles within…
P.S. As I get older, I do understand the fact that money and material things certainly make life easier and less stressed, but I have also learnt certain valuable lessons during infernal times of financial constraint that the true depths of peace and joy that we experience in life can never be attributed to what we own materially. It is borne as a fruit of the spirit.
With hope
we hold on
with hope
we stretch far
with hope
we dare to dream
with hope
we don’t unravel
at the seams
never lose hope
Sometimes,
that is truly all that we have.
Take that Cupid’s arrow
and bend it to yourself,
for you are worth
all the love
that you keep reserving
for someone else.
When someone comes
there’ll certainly be enough.
my tomorrow came
when today arrived…
for yesterday I waited
on a day that I hadn’t seen…
hoping that if and when
it does come around…
there will be the light of change.
my tomorrow is here
yet my thoughts ain’t truly there…
for how can it be
when in fragmented pieces…
I watch…
the broken circles
of many yesterdays
She stood in the elements…
tears mingled with raindrops…
a mix of nature and emotions…
soaked her chiffon kaftan.
Rain evoked numerous feelings…
It reminded her of how they met…
of days cuddled under the blanket…
sharing stories and breathing each others air.
It reminded her of home…
of cups of warm broth…
and woolly socks for her feet…
as she listened to his heartbeat.
It reminded her of the things lost…
of his last words ‘I will be back soon’…
but never to be fulfilled…
he died on a rainy day.
Jacqueline 2023
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Sometimes it seems letting go…
is easier than holding on.
Sometimes it seems holding on…
is better than letting go.
Sometimes the see-saw of life…
leaves you pondering;
which end to let go
and which end to hold on to…
©Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
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my tomorrow came
when today arrived…
for yesterday I waited
on a day that I hadn’t seen…
hoping that if and when
it does come around…
there will be the light of change.
my tomorrow is here
yet my thoughts ain’t truly there…
for how can it be
when in fragmented pieces…
I watch…
of many yesterdays
The silence in her life
rang like a loud bell
she wanted no one to hear.
The raging loneliness
sank into her bones
solace became one with her
she no longer knew
how not to be alone
The need to end her pain
beckoned in a beguiling manner
to succumb; an option she pondered.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha 2022
as we laid
your body down
and you crossed the bridge
to the other side
the airy wind
blew it’s gentle breeze
around us, it flowed
to the other side
a lone tear
escaped my eyes
racing to my mouth
I had promised
that I would
stop crying
but the calmness
of the air
reminds of your gentle ways
when will we
see you again, if ever,
my heart is pained.
For you my dear friend – departed – I wish not to say. May your soul find rest after all the pain. May you know peace and may your wings continue to flap gently in the wind. I see your smile. Though we know that none of us will get out of here alive, that death is part of life, yet, its sting is never lessened.
a cooking pot and twisted tales 