If you’re loved once 🐦


If you’re in search of a fulfilling life, 
remember, “Just keep on growing,”

Growing requires balance
& your ability to listen to your body.

When you need to rest, 
then rest.

Eat well.
Be hydrated enough.
Get extra hours of sleep if need be.

Don’t over exhaust yourself to success.

Self-endangerment isn’t efficient
& burning out isn’t the same thing as shining.

If you’re in search of a fulfilling life,
remember, “Just keep on growing,”

Growing requires resilience
& your capacity to harness good stress.

When purpose exists in your pain,
so does passion.

Follow your heart.
Embrace your own uniqueness.
Be enthusiastic with your work as you can be.

Do your best in your work and make it feel like play.

Self-actualization is the result 
of your unconditional love towards your own special process.

is the garden of your mind that’s focused on its own progress.

Thought for TODAY

Its okay to hurt sometimes ~


Story TIME long ago

I meet an Angel

He was a little boy ANGEL

He sat on my window ledges way above my head dangling his long daddy long legs in the wind

He was a beautiful ANGLE WITH black diamonds for eyes, his teeth shone as he sang just as Angles do to soothe you to a lullaby rocking in your soul

How I loved that little Angel boy

He told me when I grew up he would make me his wife to love and cherish until we flew away into the heavens of bright blue dazzling ⭐️ Star

As the years drift, as they do I waited in my bed every night for his return

Many things and many journeys, some okay, many unhappy times I never forgot my little Angel boy with those long daddy legs hanging over my window sill telling me stories of life he had seen and heard

I sit at my desk tonight with a tear in eye cause I know now what he was teaching me

That I would hurt many times on my journey through life that would hurt me , but it would be okay to hurt

What a precious little boy Angel he is

He has always been at my side, he never left me, he loved me in many past lives

My journey was to teach me to grow into the woman I am today

Hurting is only a moment in time that passes by the time you open eyes

Nothing ever stays the same , he said, times move on until one day I found him looking at me and I knew my LITTLE ANGEL BOY with those long daddy legs never left me

He is my Husband and he has loved my always

Just as he loved me the day I was born and he waited until I grew up ~ ©

Letter To My Husband ©

@bestofnatureblog ©
It’s okay to hurt ☹️

Faces In The Street – Henry Lawson

They lie, the men who tell us for reasons of their own
That want is here a stranger, and that misery’s unknown;
For where the nearest suburb and the city proper meet
My window-sill is level with the faces in the street
Drifting past, drifting past,
To the beat of weary feet
While I sorrow for the owners of those faces in the street.

And cause I have to sorrow, in a land so young and fair,
To see upon those faces stamped the marks of Want and Care;
I look in vain for traces of the fresh and fair and sweet
In sallow, sunken faces that are drifting through the street
Drifting on, drifting on,
To the scrape of restless feet;
I can sorrow for the owners of the faces in the street.

In hours before the dawning dims the starlight in the sky
The wan and weary faces first begin to trickle by,
Increasing as the moments hurry on with morning feet,
Till like a pallid river flow the faces in the street
Flowing in, flowing in,
To the beat of hurried feet
Ah! I sorrow for the owners of those faces in the street.

The human river dwindles when ’tis past the hour of eight,
Its waves go flowing faster in the fear of being late;
But slowly drag the moments, whilst beneath the dust and heat
The city grinds the owners of the faces in the street
Grinding body, grinding soul,
Yielding scarce enough to eat
Oh! I sorrow for the owners of the faces in the street.

And then the only faces till the sun is sinking down
Are those of outside toilers and the idlers of the town,
Save here and there a face that seems a stranger in the street,
Tells of the city’s unemployed upon his weary beat
Drifting round, drifting round,
To the tread of listless feet
Ah! My heart aches for the owner of that sad face in the street.

And when the hours on lagging feet have slowly dragged away,
And sickly yellow gaslights rise to mock the going day,
Then flowing past my window like a tide in its retreat,
Again I see the pallid stream of faces in the street
Ebbing out, ebbing out,
To the drag of tired feet,
While my heart is aching dumbly for the faces in the street.

And now all blurred and smirched with vice the day’s sad pages end,
For while the short ‘large hours’ toward the longer ‘small hours’ trend,
With smiles that mock the wearer, and with words that half entreat,
Delilah pleads for custom at the corner of the street
Sinking down, sinking down,
Battered wreck by tempests beat
A dreadful, thankless trade is hers, that Woman of the Street.

But, ah! to dreader things than these our fair young city comes,
For in its heart are growing thick the filthy dens and slums,
Where human forms shall rot away in sties for swine unmeet,
And ghostly faces shall be seen unfit for any street
Rotting out, rotting out,
For the lack of air and meat
In dens of vice and horror that are hidden from the street.

I wonder would the apathy of wealthy men endure
Were all their windows level with the faces of the Poor?
Ah! Mammon’s slaves, your knees shall knock, your hearts in terror beat,
When God demands a reason for the sorrows of the street,
The wrong things and the bad things
And the sad things that we meet
In the filthy lane and alley, and the cruel, heartless street.

I left the dreadful corner where the steps are never still,
And sought another window overlooking gorge and hill;
But when the night came dreary with the driving rain and sleet,
They haunted me the shadows of those faces in the street,
Flitting by, flitting by,
Flitting by with noiseless feet,
And with cheeks but little paler than the real ones in the street.

Once I cried: ‘Oh, God Almighty! if Thy might doth still endure,
Now show me in a vision for the wrongs of Earth a cure.’
And, lo! with shops all shuttered I beheld a city’s street,
And in the warning distance heard the tramp of many feet,
Coming near, coming near,
To a drum’s dull distant beat,
And soon I saw the army that was marching down the street.

Then, like a swollen river that has broken bank and wall,
The human flood came pouring with the red flags over all,
And kindled eyes all blazing bright with revolution’s heat,
And flashing swords reflecting rigid faces in the street.
Pouring on, pouring on,
To a drum’s loud threatening beat,
And the war-hymns and the cheering of the people in the street.

And so it must be while the world goes rolling round its course,
The warning pen shall write in vain, the warning voice grow hoarse,
But not until a city feels Red Revolution’s feet
Shall its sad people miss awhile the terrors of the street
The dreadful everlasting strife
For scarcely clothes and meat
In that pent track of living death the city’s cruel street.

~ Faces In The Street – Henry Lawson

“DIVERSITY, VARIETY, INSANITY!” a poem 4 June 2019 [Tuesday or more]

“DIVERSITY, VARIETY, INSANITY!” a poem 4 June 2019 [Tuesday or more]

“What are you doing? wearing that cross?

What are you saying? That-there’s-a-God-&-He’s-boss!?”

“No, I-just-put-it-on, it’s-a-gift-from-a-friend!”

“Well, take it right off; me-it doth of-fend!”

“Oh, OK – there! It is off! Are you happy?”

“No, because-just-that-you-WERE-wearing-it, is-really-awfully-crappy!

I thought I knew you!” “I DON’T EVEN KNOW ME!!”

“Well, I DON’T LIKE – all your di-ver-sity!”

“But – ISN’T THERE SPICE? in – va-ri-e-ty?”

“Don’t try to persuade me, FOR I AM FREE;

Free! from religion – and politics and most ev-ery-THING!”

“But WHAT ABOUT ARGUING?” “Don’t THAT in bring!”

“OK! Have a nice day!” “Well, that’s PRETTY TRITE!”

“Then, would you rather come with ME? We can both go fly a kite!”

“What are you saying?” “Oh, I-dunno? just THE SAME OLD JAZZ:

‘That we’re all crazy – and lazy – and! that: Those who RAZZ,

Others – for the sake of arguing for the sake of debate,

Might not end up – with-a very fun-filled date! ‘ “

“Well, f – – – you, Buddy; eat s – – – and die!”

“OK! Care to come join me? for some savory poo-poo pie?”

“F – – – YOU!” AND -as she walked away,

I-put-back-on-the-little-lapel-pin-cross – TO BRIGHTEN UP THE DAY!

fin <3©

“WIN A PRIZE BY FILLING IN THE BLANK!” a poem Tuesday: June 4, 2019

“WIN A PRIZE BY FILLING IN THE BLANK!” a poem Tuesday: June 4, 2019

Does THAT offend you, Dearest? Then, NO-MO’-POEMS-EVER! Nope!

Because, of course, you KNOW-Love, you’re-my ONE & ONLY HOPE,

And IF-you-left because-of-silly-words, I would surely mope,

Away, and I’d dissolve (pause) like a well-used bar of soap!

I would-just waste away; I could no longer cope!

No more, then! No-more poetry, for I-am not a DOPE!

I CAN TELL – when-I’ve-“crossed-the line,” or I’m-“at-the-end-of-my-rope!”

I-love-you, so-let’s-go-to-Vatican-City – and get married [that’s right!] by-The-Pope!

And THEN, * since-we’ll-be-legally-married, I can really GROPE,

Amidst your “private, sensual-parts!” Still? Why-don’t-you-“ope’ “

To-my-advances! [YOU’RE]-AN-ALIEN! [I-can-tell]-for-you-have-a: [ BLANK ]

fin <3

Postlude: Sometimes, on starry nights, we look at ITS’ planet, in-our-telescope!

We’ve-run-away-from-The-World! Yes, we have! and-now-I’m-a-real misanthrope,

And! also, somewhat of a vegan for we-mainly-eat – overripe-cantaloupe,

But my orange skin’s fine! I’ve-found-new-life! in-a-newly-discovered ISOTOPE!

  • – This could come as a big surprise, even to me!©
Wash your mouth with a DIRT 😀😁©