“In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life:it goes on.”
I should be so blessed, or be put upon a shelf to rest, at least I express my grief, though somewhat indiscreet. Through pen and ink, beyond the scope of color, tapping upon a vastness deep, I weep. It is not a fatal sin to share what lies within, my sorrows make me ill until I share with others. We are not alone. The tears we own have flown through centuries. A self proclaimed poet is what I am, not worthy to walk upon the sod of these sleeping ones. These comforter’s who have passed, inspire me to plod my painful path. Please, do not take my pen and ink away, it is the only way I can survey my dismay. And each book I write, until my last, I will draw from the inkwell of tears from my past.
“Recurrent and persistent thoughts, urges, or impulses that are experienced, at some time during the disturbance, as intrusive and unwanted “…
Clinical definition (DSM-5) of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
I was diagnosed with OCD, after many years of suffering with this illness. When I finally realized there was a reason why I had the symptoms of OCD I understood why this tormenting disease was so frightening.
I try to reach out to others that grapple with this illness also. There are many different symptoms that are very perplexing. I have written in prose and poetry some of those I have experienced.
Rationalization It was dark that night as I stood in the road, looking for the bump I had driven over. I had refrained from going back, but my thoughts drew me to cross once more. Once is never enough! I looked closer, but could not see anyone I thought I had hit. The sky was unlit since the moon was split and the stars had lost their glow. To what kind of thinking is this? I checked the road several times, driving back and forth, worried someone would see me as I performed this ritual. It was very clearly visible there was no one there. But I knew by the shift of the car, I must have hit someone. My eyes showed how irrational this was, but there was no connection in my thinking. My mind was caught as I fought to bring it under control. Finally after several attempts to go back to the spot, I went on my way, but I was still controlled by the thought that would not go away!
Vice Of The Knives I walk into the kitchen, going to the drawers, looking for those bright shiny blades, set in wooden handles, hidden away. Who are these vandals that plague my mind? I try to pray them away. These fears that invade my reasoning. I am looking for more secret compartments to hide them. Like thoughts hidden in the chambers of my mind, a nightly ritual before going to sleep. Why would I do this? I pray I cry, but never utter a word to a passerby. They would think I had lost my mind. I feared these twisted thoughts, the compulsive need to figure them out. It would be a long time before an answer to these questions were given, there was a reason, with chemicals surging and misfiring in my brain. I would like to share with those who can understand the illness that defies all reasoning!
Clinical definition of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
“I thought I had been lost and forgotten, that there was no hope…little did I know there would be deliverance for a child like me.”
Words by a little girl’s dialogue in her mind
A child abandoned in mining towns of Nevada shares her experience and hope with others!
“A story told of a family’s quest for freedom and gold…they never did strike it rich, but through their travels they found riches far better than gold… their Mama loved them the best she could, everywhere she went they went too, taking them for a ride over hills, bumps and ridges, that would become bridges over time.”
Quotes written by the author of ‘Mining Town Girl’
I started my poetry blog site just recently, but I have only received a few recent views and likes and one follower. I have visited some other poetry blogs to see what they are doing to drive their audience to their sites, and find there is a multitude of thousands of bloggers expressing their words, sharing with the world as they see it.
Coming from parents of gambling and alcohol addictions that created in me disturbing thought patterns and mental illness with its challenging lifetime effects, I have had plenty of writing material to reach out to others who can relate to this kind of upbringing that effects so many of us. , I have written a series of books of my experiences and only by the grace of God, how I was able to survive ongoing traumas and abandonment issues. I had never written before, and starting to express this journey of pain and hurt, I feel it has been a gift of healing for me from the very start. People have been put in my life to do miracles beyond my ability, to create websites, blog sites, ebooks and all the creative elements necessary to embark upon a successful venture as this.
I have come to the place of knowing that only through an act of God, will my words be viewed by others. There is a promise that says “what God has started He will finish” and that is what I must cling to.
After writing on my life, I began writing on biblical characters, gleaning from these stories of faith and courage they have brought into my life. Simple poetic poems and prose, applying them to
our present day challenges we face daily. Well, perhaps one of these days a visitor will drop by to view my blog, but if not I will still just keep on blogging, that’s all I know to do!
One of my favorite stories is about baby Moses, one that thrills the heart and captures the mind with the power and deliverance for all of God’s people. Because of a sister’s faithfulness, generations of His people were saved.
This story is recorded in the book of Genesis in the Bible.
MIRIAM’S SONG A long time ago in an ancient world, a basket was hidden on the banks of the River Nile. It held a baby, hidden in grass , reeds and lotus leaves. His sister stood by, pleading with God to protect this child. One day a princess was bathing and heard the baby cry. She ordered her maidens to fetch the basket before he died. Opening the basket, there lay the baby, none more beautiful than she had seen. This was a secret she kept with her maidens and took the baby to be her child. Running home to her mother, his sister shared the news, her baby would be safe and it made her smile. This baby was special, God had a plan when he became a man. The mother nursed him and his sister loved him, their baby was saved. The prayers they prayed had been raised to the God above. Moses was his name meaning, “drawn from the water.” Given by the Pharaoh’s daughter. He grew to be a boy and then a man. He had a brother named Aaron and they dwelt in a land called Egypt, till their ruler, Joseph died….
This is an excerpt from the author’s book sharing many other stories for the adult’s inner child. To read the rest of this story go to Donna Nieri Inspirations – Amazon.Com
A story of a Moabite woman who turns from her heritage to cling to the God of Israel. Her faithfulness has been recorded down through the ages.
From the book of Ruth found in the Bible
It seemed like it took a long time to express my feelings, speaking on paper, the experiences of my life. Longer than I would have expected. But I finally came to realize, this is enough, and needed to direct my writing in a new direction. After my conversion in my early life, spiritual stories became a healing force, as I read the stories of the faithful men and women in spite of their trials and afflictions.
The story of Ruth began a series of biblical stories I have written of the exciting and endearing personalities that produce faith and trust.
The Story Of Ruth …”Small sun baked homes in this town are made of stucco and yellow straw, and have flat roofs, opening into a courtyard and cobblestone streets. Bright pink and red bougainvillea climb along walls, and yellow blossoms of forsythia welcome spring. Spring is a happy time in nearby fields, seed is sown of barley and rye…it seems it always rains when the seed is planted, and they have plenty of food and water… the evening is sultry, too warm to sleep, quietly she stirs as she labors to walk the stone stairs to the roof to escape the heat, to lay in the coolness and look at the stars. Rolling to her side, as she lays in wait, to give birth to her child…a cry is heard as pain begins, the family wakes, rushing to their mother, a baby is about to be born… It is a difficult birth as she languishes in pain, her cries are heard throughout the town…a midwife is called running quickly to get a stick to place in the mother’s mouth…
…as dinner is served, the food is strange, bread without leaven and roasted lamb, bowls of fruit with pomegranate and figs, and grapes the largest she has ever seen. Dates and raisin cakes midst onions and leeks… as the custom is, every week there is a special day to celebrate. It is called the Sabbath, a happy time for Ruth…the day turns to evening, a special woven cloth is placed on the table, six candles in the center are lit, His presence is requested and they sing a song, as father lifts his hands, inviting the God of Shalom to enter their home…” …Selected quotes from the book of Ruth I have written
My Clematis is blooming for the first time this summer! I love the color of lavender with the purple veining, the creamy center of spiky petals, it gives me a sense of joy and a tinge of creativity. I am looking for a tool in a discarded box and I have come across a water fountain pump. I love the sound of water with its tinkling sound, it gives a sense of peace.
NICE, BUT IT CAN USE A LITTLE HELP
“Create with the heart, build with the mind” Criss Jami
The thought comes to me, I could make a fountain! I have everything I need but a pot. I am delighted with the creation I have made, but it lacks something, and off to the store I go looking for something to set if off, and I come across a couple of darling terracotta birds, this will be the perfect finishing touch!
“You can’t use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have” Maya Angelou