Ladyjewels

Category: Related to My life experience.

Something about what I have been through in life.

  • His Words bring Him to life.


    Author: ladyjewel


    An old tin box rusted slightly with roses that have faded gently at the corners,
    Soft hands tenderly lift the box onto her lap, the key turned slowly and the lid lifted.

    Inside the letters bound in a ribbon that at one time was a bright pretty red, the pages curling at the edges and the writing faded and hard to read.

    From inside that box a rush of memories and feelings come flying at her, she closes her eyes and slow tears fall, a few drops added to the old stains already there.

    If she opened the pages she would read his words and again be with him as he sat in the bush with the gunfire around him and wrote his feelings and love down on the pages he sent to her.

    She runs her finger over the paper and suddenly his hand seems to cover her hand, she feels the warmth seep into her soul and his eyes are suddenly smiling into her as he stands her up and takes her into his arms, they dance and twirl and he smiles.

    She sighs and gently closes the box, the letters still the same, the ribbon still perfect and in place, she has every word he wrote in there, but her eyes don’t need to see them, her heart remembers them too well.

    So many years after he never returned as he promised, the words still connect him to her soul as it would do again…..one day, she feels it in her heart.
    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
    Posted: Jun 2013

  • Our Snow White Rose.

    Author: ladyjewel

    She lays in the coffin on a pillow of silk,
    The rich, deep brown wood like a frame, the cream silk stitched inside adds a softness, a soft pillow completes the bed.

    Dark brown long hair flows over the pillow and frames the face of this angel, her skin looks like porclin and white as snow,
    Her lips and cheeks rosy and the long lashes lay forever now on her cheek, eyes closed and ready for her long sleep.

    Hands closed over her chest as if in prayer, the smell of vanilla, the scent she always used floating around her in a soft cloud.

    Beautiful and at rest, a picture of perfection never to grow older, like a rose cut when it is in full bloom and displayed for the finest art works, then captured for all time for the world to see and remember.

    Our rose, our snow white, our sister, our angel.
    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
    Posted: May 2013

  • Broken Doll.

    Fragile and hollow encased in an invisible glass case,
    she sits, legs crossed and hands placed perfectly on her knees, her hair falling in waves of perfect curls, even the straps of her dress ironed and without a wrinkle.

    Foundation spread over her face making her skin look like porcelain, her make up almost looked like an artist had painted it on too perfectly.

    And from this doll, dull lifeless eyes stared ahead, her skin was warm but her heart was like ice, it had frozen long ago when she became nothing more then a show piece of beauty to be displayed for all to see.

    Then one day he pushed her just a little to much and she crashed to the floor, her body and face splintered and cracked
    and she lay there feeling nothing at all.

    That’s where he found her, and with tender hands and strong arms he picked up the pieces and gently began to glue the bits together, she began to take shape once more, but he did not stop at the outer shell, he breathed warmth into her and slowly the fire began to warm her and the life in her eyes shone bright, the fine cracks left behind were more beautiful because she was unique, they showed how she had healed.

  • Drops of Red.


    Author: ladyjewel


    Drops of red
    Sharp steel pushes down gently on milky skin,
    The slight pop as it gives way,
    Slides easily along the cut opening a line.

    She watches the red line form,
    The perfect drop of blood like a jewel,
    It gathers all the pent up feeling inside her,
    Hangs like a perfect tear for a few seconds,
    Then falls to the ground.

    She feels the weight of her heart drop,
    And the lightness of releasing all the hurt.

    The tears now able to fall and run like a river,
    Her eyes cleansing her soul.

    And the carm washes over her once more..

  • Someone Special.

    After living so long content to just be a woman, a mother a girl.

    And then her life was complete, her children adults, and all she was made for had come out whole and good.

    She stood looking out at the sea, the tears like rivers over her cheeks followed the same path as the rivers of red warm blood running down her back, the deep wounds where the wings had been, the same pair that had tried so hard to stay so many times before, and every time she was crushed she came here and they ripped from her back and floated away on the waves as she stood again and cried for what could have been.

    That was a while ago now and one day she got a written message and the gentlest of touches and the wounds again began to heal, the buds of her wings began to grow so very slowly, he gently touched her heart and she glowed, he handed her his soul and she placed it beside her soul and he joined them with a silver thread, this thread she tested many times since and so far it has held, she smiled as she changed this morning for the wings have almost grown strong enough to help her fly, strong enough to believe in her own magic, she is his rose and she will always fly to him, as long as he keeps her soul safe her wings will be safe and never bleed again.

  • For an 8 year old Angel I nursed once.

    Mom my breathing is funny and I can’t feel my body, why are these people running around my bed?

    They must have put air inside me because I can fly now, look mom I can hold out my hands and fly high, Mom, why can’t you hear me?
    Why is she crying so much, I am ok now the hurt is gone and now I can breath without that nasty tube they put inside me, its ok mom you don’t have to worry about me any more, Dad is here to fetch me, he said he would come back later when you were ready to let me go, and now I feel ready, can you let me go now mom, he said the angels are waiting to play with me in heaven, there are lots of little angels there.

    God’s newest angel floats down and sits on her moms lap, takes her moms face in both hands and kisses her tears away, smiles at her Dad standing waiting and takes his hand, as they leave she knows mom will be ok later because dad told her

  • The Deer.


    Author: ladyjewel


    Grazing on lush green leaves, the carm of the trees,
    The soft whistle of the wind, no hint of danger, the sun warm on his back, his tail flicking the stray fly.

    The wind changed slightly and the warm earthy smell of
    Something unknown hits his nose, he stops and his senses
    Come alive, he turns his head in the direction of the smell.

    As his eyes notice the Man standing with a coat on and a gun
    Pointed right at the deers heart, the world seems to stop,
    The bullet is like a white hot arrow singing as it comes
    It rips into his side and the force makes the deer stumble.

    As he sinks to the ground his breathing slowing down, his heartbeats slowly stopping, he watches the Man walk over to him and kneel down, he feels the warm strong hand gently stoke his neck and a strange carm comes over him, his eyes close and his soul lifts up and drifts into a place of peace, his body is lifted and carried over broard shoulders, respected by the Man who send his soul to heaven.
    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
    Posted: Jun 2013
    About this poem:
    My son went hunting for the first time with his new father in law.
    I have mixed feelings, I know hes a Man now, but I see the boy who animals just love.
    I saw a pic of him with the deer he killed and I see the Man, but I also see his eyes and how it worried him:-)
    A mother sees below what others see.
    I like to think the deer felt like this?

  • Perfect person


    Author: ladyjewel


    Body in the grip of tearing pain,
    Remember to breath, count, mind closed in for those few seconds.

    Heavy, full feeling, pain and pressure, and suddenly..

    You slide out and the pain is gone,
    A small body is placed on my chest, wet and warm,
    I look down and there is a cloud of soft hair,
    A face and body of an angel with the smallest hands,
    You move and seem to curl up into me and my heart swells.

    You are the perfect person, and the wonder is you were made
    Inside me.

    You are MY perfect person and i will protect you always,
    My gift.
    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
    Posted: May 2013
    About this poem:
    My children are all my perfect people.

  • Yellow.

    Yellow, a colour I never before put with me,

    Yellow daffodils, soft and gentle, fragile yet flexible to sway in the wind.

    Yellow Sunflowers, bright and bold, Strong, yet unique turning to the sun.

    Both seem so different and yet, once you cut them they both slowly die.

    I have been broken and my petals ripped out and left to dry up and blow away.

    But someone with quiet strength has gently gathered the seed left behind and planted me again.

    Now the question is, have I got the courage to push through the dirt and feel the sunshine again, is this real.

    I hope so because these hands feel safe.

  • Broken.

    In silence she sat, no expression on her face, the glass snow globe in her hands and a pile of items sitting next to her.

    It had been an hour and she had not moved, she placed the glass snow globe on the top step where she sat and gently rolled it forward, watching it shatter into pieces at the bottom, that was how she felt inside, her hand reached for the beautiful porcelain dog, looked into it’s eye’s and gently rolled it down to follow the globe.

    When she reached for the last piece she watched it fall as if in slow motion and as it crashed so did she, silent tears rolling down, at last she could begin to feel again.