They call me Alaurilee

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I've been writing poetry from the age of 12. It has, and always will be my outlet, my voice. Join me on my journey . . . I can write about almost anything. :) ~ Life doesn't come with a shiny new book; no users manual of answers to find with one look. Life comes with doors that open and shut; and paths laid before us to be followed or passed up. There's things we can learn and things we may teach; hearts that may find us and souls we may reach. Guaranteed on this journey are teacups of tears; and pains that might hurt us may age us by years. But the beauty of life, love, laughter and giving; come from serving hugs on a platter each and every day we're living. ~

Sunday, August 29, 2010

River of Irony

The river of irony goes with the flow,
it turns and it twists as it puts on a show.
It flows soft and sweet with its delicate trickles,
then roars into madness, leaving rafters in pickles.

It needs to be present, for there to be life;
it can cut through a canyon like butter from knife.
Before we were born, we swam in it and grew;
our first world of fluid was all our lungs knew.

That life bringing first breath that comes from the air,
we cry as we breath in this air we all share.
The water now takes on a new destiny,
for that which can give life can take it you see.

We need it to drink, but it's best when it's pure;
with too much pollutants, it could kill us, for sure.
When we don't drink enough, our poor bodies dehydrate.
Sit it in too long, we shrivel up like a dried date.

Its brings life to being, yet blows homes to bits.
Its calm, cool and tranquil, then throws hurricane fits.
Were grateful for all that our water can bring,
were blessed to have drops from our clean clothes to wring.

The moral I speak of lies hidden in rocks,
this life giving water . . . this paradox.
It gives life and takes life, sometimes in one breath;
then gives up a teardrop at the mention of death.

That teardrop then falls from the face of the living,
who pick up their feet and continue the giving.
The sweat on our brow becomes fuel for our soul.
A rebirth for the living, for this is our goal.


Written in response to this weeks:
Think Tank Thursday Prompt# 12 at United Poets

"We forget that the water cycle and the life cycle are one"
~Jacques Cousteau


Also I write this in honor of all those who have suffered from the devastation's of water damage in any way shape or form. Hurricanes, Tornado's, Vicious Storms, Typhoons, Tidal Waves, Tsunami's.

Flood and water damage is devastating.

Water is a force not to be reckoned with.....