Fuck It

I wrote this poem, with tears in my eyes, for the words are real and raw. I’ve always struggled to believe in myself and especially my writing. But it seems I’ve turned a point in my life now and there’s no going back. I’m realising that I can write. And am going to, no matter what. So ‘fuck it’ can be my mantra. Because I’m moving out of my comfy home and into the wild 😜

Thanks to my dear friend Cassie for the mantra 💗

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A Braid Of Blue Horizon

Fragrant scents linger still
on light wind;
across the mill
Speaking to the trees
whispers softly spoke,
Between visions of gold;
lies Calla-Lilies
Bold
Trumpet shaped
paper-like bulbs
Painted in oil strokes,
Across Western Isles,
a braid of blue horizon
A hazy day unfolds
The hours between us;
filled with wordless minutes –
seconds slip
through our fingers
No matter how we cling
Voiceless
The silent sea
and the land moans sweetly
Words fail our sensibilities,
Disentangled by the strings that cast
and bind our hearts
Our senses curve above the sun,
The clouds a husky front –
The sound of silence
Speaks to us,
In the garden of our dreams.

@ J.CALVERT 2017

Photography courtesy of Pinterest

Ink and Quill

MeganKelly-KatieAnderson

Incredible photography by Pheasant Fashion Photography. megankelly.org

This is my passion,
The ache and urge,
For my words,
To spill forth,
Myself,
My sense,
My deepest heartfelt,
My thoughts conveyed,
Quill, a feathery plume,
Etched and engraved,
Ink drips,
Tints and stains the page,
Fragile, erratic and torn,
Overflowing,
I breathe and write on.