THIS RACE CALLED LIFE.

They say life is a race, I say this race has no straight route. This race is run on a crooked path with turns and corners, potholes and bumps. This race is made of detours and diversions, alternative routes and junctions. There is no straight path for this race called LIFE.

Whatever turn your race takes you to, please, do your best. No knowledge is lost and no situation is worthless. David was ordained a King but his path did not take a direct route to the kingdom. He continued to be the shepherd boy and the least of his brethren.

However, his time as a shepherd thought him skills that opened his race to the path of greatness. I imagine him dramatizing how he kills lions and bears to Saul in 1 Samuel 17: 34 – 37. It was a job interview and his experience as a shepherd got him the job.

Whatever your situation is, take it as a learning field to enhance your CV. Are you passionate about acting but you are stuck working in Primark? Do it with Joy, work the stage behind the till and perform your act every day at work. The role that would get you your break may require the skills you are getting at the till. Gladden your heart, let not the cloud of sadness fall over your face, lest your spirit be broken and your destiny be stolen. Run this race called LIFE to the best of your ability.

Dinner

He sits at his table,

his fangs dripping blood,

his eyes blood red,

he plays the game of fate

 

He says to himself

It’s time for dinner,

I’ll take the blond one…

No, the red head

He stretches his black claws

to touch the faces in pale glass.

 

Shout of pain rises like smoke,

the blond face disappears.

He laughs, the sound of his laughter

cuts through the silence of the night.

 

In the pale glass,

the old say to him

“Let me go in style I pray thee”

The young cry to him

“Tarry a little while”

 

No one can touch him

for he is the ultimate finality –

He is DEATH and he would have his dinner.

 

ALAS, IT WAS A DREAM / THE FIRST OF MANY.

It stood like a snowman at my door but brighter. It looked like a ghost; Fiona said they look like snowmen without orange nose and black buttons. It walked towards me and I could feel the hair on the back of my neck stand. My head felt like I was carrying a double duplex. I tried to scream but my mouth could not form words. I was sure I was dying. I did not want to die, at least not before I could taste the chocolate cake mother kept in the fridge last night.

It moved to the table. I could feel goose bumps on my body. My toes were frozen.  I thought to myself, “I should have worn my green sock; silly me.” I could see its eyes now; brown like latte. They seemed to be talking. I tried to say something, to ask what it wanted from me but I could not. My tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth.

Then I heard the whisper, it came with the cold breeze through the window

“Quick, we’ve got to go”

It heard the whisper too, for it looked at the open window for a second and back at me. It stretched it hand towards me. I tried to scream but I still could not open my mouth or move any part of my body.  I heard the whisper again

“Let’s go Janelle, Now!

It drew back and floated through the window.  With it went the cold and the heavy metal on my chest. I screamed and opened my eyes. Alas, it was a dream! A dream; the window was still open and the chair was rocking. This was the first of many more to come.

LOV IFE (love and life)

Love Life

What is love

without life?

What is life

without love?

 

Darling, honey, sweety,

I’ll like you,

want you,

love you,

to taste life

without love.

 

Compare it

to your image

of love

without life.

 

For love

cannot be

without life

and life

without love…

huuuu!

is not worthy

to be a life

worth living.

 

Let’s love

life

and live

for love.

DREAMS IN OCTOBER.

Dreams

Oh dear October,
breath on our weary soul
the cool breeze of Autumn
as we lay waiting
for the harsh hand of winter.

Let our slumber
lure us into a deep trance
where our dreams grow wings.

Fly us to the space
where mountains are as
high as we our thoughts,
Valleys as deep as
we wish them to be.
An existence where
bees are bright orange
and they fly in the cloudy
mist of a foggy
October morning.

Let us dream this October
lest we wake to a winter
morning dry and crispy.
Then we’ll have our dream
and life would be fields
of flowers and berry.