Open Project: What are you Grateful for?

I am grateful for the freedom I still have. Freedom comes with a wind; And you’re getting cold And you don’t feel your fingertips  And you don’t feel your troubles  And you don’t have to carry these thoughts  Anymore These are just memories And the memories are lie Freedom comes with a sea breeze;And  you are shivering And you hate it But if you survive it You know for sure it was worse it You ...

I work two jobs; but I split my mind between 6 different businesses, my family, creative projects, and general responsibilities. This poem comes from the tiny moments I’ve gathered in photos and combines them with a poem centered around the moments of peace I find myself most grateful for. I hope you enjoy a bit from my perspective. - Jose-Noel Rocha@mrfancyshoes  The original poem is the 9 ...

Like the oceanwith endless magic hidden beneath thesurfaceThose eyes are mosaics of sunset andsunriseAn everlasting golden hourImmersing a hidden forest under a meteorshowerThat smile is sunshine for your soulwith dimples sweet as birdsongand a warmth that feels likehome.

I am grateful for Sound Every click, swoosh, tap that rings my eardrumEvery intentional pluck of a string, Every accidental crash; I am grateful The pencil scratch that moves in a straight line             the sound creates a picture Without seeing a single flash of light or image,Sound encapsulates this vivid sense of space and belongingYou can not just hear but  feel, where    y o  u      ar ...

i can't recall a feeling outside of our loveso i bathe in it routinelyin nights and on morningsi greet the water fondlylike a neighbor, or a judgethen slowly, submissivelymy impact is bracedmiles away, the sun flashes greenand for a second i spot remorse, wavingas it glimmers on the horizonand asks to kiss my nosein a manner so politely that it feels okay to say no,i won't go with her,even if i...

Abundantly meadowed, my childhood farm Marked by cowslips, apple trees, - Yellow hay, honey bees. Hand painted by Wyeth, almost.  A time-kissed bathtub lay face down. Claw feet saluted the sky-blue, Nettle speckled was she (the queen of all bathtubs) -  Cheered on by a bindweed gentry The wear and tear, rosy-brown The wear and tear, a home? Delicate rot hollowed out a face-hole,  I, a child of ...

Making your own decisions is celebratedWithout anyone considering the impact of choiceThe limits on choiceRestrictions society forces on usLimits we input upon ourselves,Sometimes just for show:To demonstrate our ability at self-compliance But what a boring life that causesJust because you can stay within strict lines and rules and regulationsDoesn’t mean you’re actually livingMore just missing...