A place to show my work
When tears like raindrops start to fall,
We feel the weight of sorrow call.
Our hearts are tender, heavy with pain,
Yet hope shines bright like sun through rain.
In moments dark, we search for peace,
A gentle touch, a sweet release.
Though sadness lingers, love imparts,
A healing balm for fragile hearts.
In shadows deep, I often tread,
With fear of judgment in my head.
But step by step, I faced the crowd,
Learning to speak, yet not too loud.
I asked my questions, listened close,
In quiet moments, I would boast.
Of strengths I have, of deeds I’ve done,
Building confidence, one by one.
With help I sought, I found my way,
Through social storms, I learned to sway.
Though sometimes still, I feel that ache,
I know it’s fine; it’s mine to take.
Each struggle faced, a step to grow,
In this brave dance, I’ve come to know,
That being me is quite enough,
Embracing who I am, though tough.
There once was a handy old gnome,
In a hallowed-out tree he would roam.
With a huff and a puff,
He’d bake cakes just enough,
Then giggle while serving them foam!
House
Cozy, Spacious
Furnishing, Hosting, Maintaining
Residence, Shelter, Sanctuary, Haven
Cherishing, Decorating, Gathering
Comfortable, Inviting
Home
https://thedailyspur.wordpress.com/2026/06/21/prestige/
Prestige is a fragile crown—
shiny from afar,
heavy up close.
People chase it
like it promises peace,
but it only fits
those who know
they don’t need it.
In the stillness of a tired Wednesday morn,
Words linger just out of reach, like dreams reborn.
Coffee cups empty, yet hopes start to gleam,
Thoughts swirling like leaves in a gentle stream.
Though frustration may hover like shadows at noon,
A spark can ignite in the heart’s quiet tune.
So I pause for a moment, take a deep breath,
Even tired Wednesdays can inspire new depth.
For within every struggle, beauty takes flight,
Transforming the weary into warmth and light.
The unlucky, creepy crook one night,
Climbed a ladder, hoping for a heist so bright.
But fate had other plans in store,
As he teetered high, he lost his core.
With a stumble and a slip, down he went,
A tumble through air, his balance spent.
Oh, the irony in his sneaky plight,
The ladder crumbled, swallowed by the night.
He landed with a thud, in the shadows’ cloak,
Dreams of riches vanished, like a cruel joke.
So heed this tale of the crook so brash,
Sometimes misfortune gives a wicked crash.
Promises made, some unfulfilled,
Whispers of love, my heart is thrilled.
Chasing shadows, a game I play,
Hoping for warmth to light my way.
Is there a spark hiding in me,
Longing for love to be wild and free?
Through heartache and tears, I still believe,
One day, I’ll find the joy I seek to receive.
I am the host of my own chaos,
setting the table for thoughts
that arrive uninvited.
Some bring flowers,
some bring storms—
but all of them sit down
and teach me something
before they go.
I pressed a giant button
labeled activate—
and suddenly my sandwich
stood up straight and walked away.
It saluted me politely,
said, “Thanks, pal, but I’m late,”
then jogged off down the hallway
at a very sandwich‑y rate.
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2026/06/29/descendant/
I was born from the hush
between ticking seconds,
a ripple in the river
that never stops moving.
I am a descendant of time,
carrying centuries in my bones,
stories folded into silence,
dreams that outlived their tellers.
Every choice I make
is a conversation with eternity,
a reminder that I am both
moment and memory,
seed and echo.
I walk forward,
not to escape the past,
but to honor it —
to become the bridge
between what was
and what will be.
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2026/06/18/catwalk/
On the catwalk of my confidence
I strut like I own the sun—
hips swinging, doubts shrinking,
every step a quiet “I’ve won.”
The world watches,
but I walk for me—
a runway stitched from courage,
lined with audacity.
Waves breaking,
stopping breath and thought.
Every worry drifts away.
Now is the time—
seize the moment.
Freedom.
https://thedailyspur.wordpress.com/2026/06/15/strange/
Strange is just the name we give
to things we haven’t learned to love yet.
The unfamiliar,
the crooked,
the beautifully off‑center—
all waiting patiently
for us to understand
they were never wrong,
just different.
https://thedailyspur.wordpress.com/2026/06/29/advocate/
We learn, slowly,
that our voice is not a burden
but a bridge.
We feel the quiet urge
to stand up for our needs,
even when our hands shake.
Being our own advocate
isn’t loud or perfect —
it’s choosing ourselves
in small, steady ways.
It’s saying this matters,
even when others don’t see it.
It’s honoring our truth,
and letting it guide us home.
