SPEAK to me…

SPEAK

Speak to me in whispers.
Speak to me in waves,
Touch me with your words,
As like no other had ever heard.
 
Trust me with your arms,
Speak to me in silence,
The breath you take,
Between the gaps,
Finding every scar,
Hauntings of love,
Measured from afar.
 
Speak to me in tongues,
The language only I can hear,
Speak to me in deep brooding,
Love that will forever hold me near.
 
We maybe oceans apart,
But matters of the heart,
Only need for you,
to speak to me.
 
 © 2020 Samira Wyld
 #AWyldLoveNote

Stay seXy, Stay wYld, Be free

Peace out ☮

Samira xo

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How do you like to read?

Hi lovers and wanderlusters

I have some exciting news to share with you about my upcoming short story ‘THE RED COAT’.

In these busy days of social media, work, home, life etc, how many of us find time to read?

My short story ‘THE RED COAT’ will be published online over the coming weeks, but before it is, I will feature it here as a serial for you, my loyal reader. Post in bite size chunks that you can read over your morning coffee.

However, this will mean you will have to tune in each week to find out what happens next 🙂 How does that sound to you?

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BTW… the artwork is just a mock up until I find the right design for the finished story 🙂

Let’s get started with an intro

‘Death comes up from behind you when you’re not looking, or you try to pretend it’s not happening as icy tendrils grip your breath choking you until there’s nothing left to breathe. Until your life gently, or violently slips away as you gasp your final breath. That white icy haze that escapes your mouth is not your last breath at all – it’s death sucking the last of your breath from your lungs like a deflated balloon.

And as the icy tendril escapes into the ether, your lips turn a shade of blue that can only be described as the blue lips of death, the paling colour of lifelessness.

How do I know all of this? I shouldn’t know any of this. I’m only eight years old.’

Please leave a comment below and let me know:

if you like this idea of serialising a short story in the written word, and possibly audio?
and will you be keen to tune in each week?

Stay seXy, Stay wYld, Be free

Peace out ☮

Samira xo

Your feedback is ALWAYS welcome, please share by leaving a comment below.

Please share on social media, and/or forward to a friend if you think this might serve them, or be something they will enjoy.

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Between two worlds

I’m sitting here sipping Green tea (well do I sip?) that sounds a bit too lady-like for me, so I guess I’m drinking green tea, while feeling somewhere stuck between two worlds.
The world that used to be…{read more}

Hi lovers and wanderlusters

I’m sitting here sipping Green tea (well do I sip?) that sounds a bit too lady-like for me, so I guess I’m drinking green tea, while feeling somewhere stuck between two worlds.

The world that used to be real, and the world that is now a dream, or some type of dystopian future, or simply as it should be. Does that sentence even make sense? I think not.

Who has read the book ‘The Talisman’ ~ Stephen King & Peter Straub? Let me know in the comments below.

If you have then you’ll understand the concept of parallel worlds, and dreams being our reality, and our reality being a dream. Which one are we living in now? I have no fucking idea, I just know I’m somewhere between this world, and that, and who knows what the End Game will be.

It could be a game changer or game over! Time will tell, but let’s not rest on our laurels. Stay alert. Stay informed, and stay awake.

….In the meantime, enjoy some scribblings 🙂

Scribbling #3102

Taken from A Collection of Poetry: A Wyld Love Note

I’m sitting on a park bench looking out to sea when I glance a tin dingy buried heavy into the mangroves, overgrown by grass and looking like its expiry date was long past. I took to pen and paper and began to write, and the following was what turned up on the page.

The very next day, I visited the same park and the tin dingy wasn’t there, as though it never existed. I wonder did it exist? I know what I saw inspired me to write the ‘Broken Canoe’ and I wonder if giving the tin dingy some life is all it needed to leave the tangled marsh and rebirth it somewhere new.

These are my random ‘muse-lings’ this word does not exist. I made it up 🙂

BROKEN CANOE

The broken canoe
Sits alone
Harboured by the old ravished mangroves,
Entangled into the vessel
That once was home,
To the bay,
Soft coloured sky of grey,
Rocking its life,
Back into the new,
Of a time when tales
at sea were true.

The broken canoe,
Abandoned,
Ripped inside the seams of grass,
That hold and pull,
Drawing down into the earth,
Trapped,
Broken and torn,
Weathered storms,
have changed its form
Once belonging to the sea,
Holding passengers that were free,
As they searched for life,
Rowing forward,
Forward and forward,
Rocking into waters,
Into Mother Nature,
and her daughters.

Its purpose all encompassing,
Not quite as magnificent
as the ship to shore,
But less is often more,
Its timber carved with intricate design
Of the indigenous artisans,
Who blessed it with love
For all that made the journey into the
heart of the kind.

The broken canoe,
Earth bound,
To nothing new,
adventurous or free,
Digs itself deeper,
Like the roots of the nearby tree,
Its ancestry lost,
Unnoticed,
Unloved and forgot,
Its timber slowly cracking
into a slow painful rot.

Now an artistic masterpiece,
The water coloured painting
Admired by many,
Not just a few,
brings life back to the broken canoe.

© 2020 Samira Wyld
#AWyldLoveNote

Scribbling #1035

THE MUSIC

Time claps
At the hands
Of an ace upon the stack
Of lack,
Being born and torn,
Into a number
An aggregate of foregoing’s
That permeate,
And irritate,
Between the houses,
Far beyond the sea,
I’m sure we’ll dance to the music,
That only belongs to you and me.

© 2020 Samira Wyld
#AWyldLoveNote

If you would like to revisit any of the poetry within these blog posts please click here

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