I see a little butterfly

English: Butterfly, Vindula arsinoe. Français ...

 

I see a little butterfly, fluttering round and round.
Amazing was its colours, silent was its sound.
As it went this way, then it went that.
It was so peaceful at all of that.

It quickened, then slowed.
Haste most elegant it showed.
Like a magical acrobat.
It was so peaceful at all of that.

Then suddenly it flew right up in the sky.
Till hardly could see it with my naked eye.
Then before I could wonder why.
It was so peaceful at all of that.

By Stuart Smith 2013

 

 

 

Under the Oak Tree

Art and crafts in wood, beads, fabric and clay. We use recycled, upcycled, re-purposed and salvaged materials wherever possible. We collect fallen timber from forests and wood made available by tree surgery and pruning. We aim to tread lightly upon the Earth.

Page: 543 like this.

 

A broken cigarette

All I have left are broken cigarettes, crumpled and torn, I’m broken and worn.
Tempers rage, for what seems like an age, a millennium of trouble.
On my knees I begged you, please please don’t go, without a care you left me there in pity on my own.
I pull out my hair, I smash my face, with every object I can place, I want not of this place.

See ya love he said to you, as he hugged goodbye to you, right in front of my eyes no wonder why I despise.
Your kisses are like shards of glass that softly cut my lips, the love I had is not gone, I fear its him that you miss.
It matters not what others say, it won’t be better another day, dropped like a stone.
You had sex while I cleaned our home, and waited for you spunk covered face to kiss me.

You said you loved me before you left, you even text after you was defiled, you held me close to your chest.
But his stench was apart of your style, there isn’t any hope, you fucked some other bloke.
Then rubbed him in my face, you said you did out the house, to hide from your disgrace.
But then you came back to brag, your bitter twisted fate, good bye cruel world.

I want to be alone, I kinda got used to it, with know one left to phone.
So I sit and ponder, there’s nothing more to do, but smoke a broken cigarette.
Wipe my mind of you, where are you going? You knew what you was doing.
Destroyer of dreams for a quick fuck, I knew what you was up to, but in my mind there is no doubt you wanted his corruption.

Look Deep

So true, love of another is the ultimate giving that a Human can experience, in doing so we receive a perfect gift to be cherished and never let go of.

A spilt drink!

We all spill drinks right?

But what do we learn from it?

Hmm…

Well here’s a brain fart I just had to write down.

So… I am making coffee in the kitchen whilst doing so I’m thinking; how wonderful it will taste, as I started to pour the water on to the coffee the alluring aroma began to arise and I knew this was going to be delightful, first sip, agh yes, yummy perfection.

Then, on my way back to my computer I suddenly halt!

Wait I say to myself, be careful with that coffee, the mac doesn’t drink that stuff, we had better slow down as not to trip and wash ones mac with caffeine.

So now I am aware that if  I trip I might spill goop all over my computer BAH!

What happened next?

Yeap you guessed it I spilt coffee.

Not over my mac thankfully but it was near enough.

Okay so what?

Well I began to think to myself, what if like the coffee moment earlier of yummy perfection, instead of thinking about tripping and spilling my drink, what if I had just thought about pleasantly sitting down and enjoying the flavour, would I have tripped at all?

The mind contemplates many things but I am certain that this lesson is telling me something important enough to share.

Namaste Stuart.

My heart is still aching

Love heart uidaodjsdsew

Guitar chords G / G major 7th / D / D major 7th / C / D

G                            GMJ7      D                   DMJ7
My heart is still aching, I don’t know what to write.
C                                D
Does it still exist? Is there anything left inside?
G                     GMJ7        D                       DMJ7
I can’t feel it beating, it used to beat like a drum.
C                                    D                          
All I can say is now, it doesn’t want to run.

Bedroom antics may have been the cause, I was simply far too blind.
To notice you slip away, was you only trying to hide?
But now our love is stronger, it’s all up to me they say.
To forgive you and my self, but I’m stuck in yesterday.

I know I must have hurt you, for you to do the things you’ve done.
But instead of holding you real close, I simply let you run.
The love I feel for you, is something I can’t hide.
It’s high up above the clouds, where angels reside.

Now that we are parted, although only for a while.
Hearing you when you call me, always makes me smile.
Forgiveness is in my soul, but torments in my mind.
How do I forgive you darling, when there’s torture in my eyes.

The only thing that keeps me going, is you and the kids.
I’m going to pin that thought promptly, to the back of my eye lids.
I’ve jump started my heart again, solely for you.
But please don’t ever shake it, coz it’s only held with glue.

I know that you can feel me, from across the shores.
When I wake up in the mornings, it is you that I adore.
I feel our love is beautiful, like a flower in full bloom.
Worry not my darling, I’ll be coming home real soon.

I’ll be coming home real soon, to oo ooo sooth you.

By Stuart Otway-Smith

MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected

I miss you all my love, kiss our children for me and hug baby.

 

Day Fiftynine:

What a wonderful, pleasant, loving and joyful day was had by our family today.

We awoke early with beaming smiles on our faces, decided to go out together as a family and had a great day.
I unfortunately yesterday fell and smashed my knee so we had to take my wheel chair on our adventure.

We all held hands and headed into town, had a lovely meal at Costa Coffee and headed to the park.
The sun was shining most of the day and I glee with the enjoyment of watching the kids play.
Shell and I sat together hand in hand, I stroked baby bump gently as we watched the kids running around the adventure playground.

There was lots of other family’s there all smiling and happy what a joyous moment.
It is days like this that are truly what we need to heal and move forwards, it is days like this that let me know just how lucky I am to have such a wonderful wife, children and family.

I keep these memories atop of my mind as they make me smile over and over.

I love you all so very much.

Run me down!

Ranting ramblings ruin rapport.

Unambiguous ulterior uglifications u-turn

Nauseous noise nerves nabes.

Maddened moments meagrely muster

Entropy escapes empathies ear-bashing.

Daunting disappointment de-facto deceit.

Objectionable obligations observe obscenities.

Whittled women wafts waylay.

Nefarious nectar nurtures numbness.

By Stuart Otway-Smith

MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected

Blood Lust

Placebo – Pure Morning

Listen to the song then read the poem 😉

He clambered up the walls of sorrow, nails bitten to the bone.
Upon the tops arrival, a stone and mighty throne.
As the path of pity began to twist, everything he said.
He pulled his hair till skin was bare, and soon cut of his nose.

Tree and bark he beat and larked, was quite an act to follow.
He dribbled down with a frown, not caring for the morrow.
A silent sword then stabbed him, and revived him back to life.
What about the children, the neighbours and the wife?

With himself he thwart, a hurtful thought, of helpless jurisdiction.
The sharp was there, a slither; a tear; till done was his distinction.
He kneeled in tranquil leer, at the nether after.
Scarlet wine, I think its mine, until there is a plaster.

As time slows still, he sits there till, the numbness fades to grey.
Was not long till things went wrong and he got locked away.
If not for a lowly fellow, believing everything he said.
He’d be caged up like an animal, or a shot-gun to the head!

By Stuart Otway-Smith

MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected

Day Forty Five: is what inspired me to write this poem.