The Matrimony

•June 4, 2012 • 1 Comment

The inferno on my chest,

And the cooling of my passion.

The hoping for the best,

As Life dictates his lessons.

 

I am a puppet on strings

The only decision I make:

To tangle.

I’ve accepted my fate

That with Life,

I’m forced to tango.

 

Alone I finally am

As my minds company

Is lost.

Such bittersweet freedom

Unaware of any cost.

 

Clueless I stand here,

Gawping at the beauty

Of my life.

When did it all change to honey

Golden drops, pearls upon my Soul.

 

Cold and blue

Water on my forehead

A pleasure to my senses

 

Confused emotions dancing

Happiness now is reckless

 

And silk,

I no longer fear it

But embrace it,

Towards my crown.

Adorn myself with jewels

 

My purple wedding gown.

 

 

© Ciinders. TheSoulsWord™

Tenere

•June 4, 2012 • Leave a Comment

I could not leave

You

Behind old friend

 

You are the mother

Of my Soul.

 

A constant comfort of brightness

An everlasting source of hope.

 

Thank you for my freedom

Thank you

For my joy.

 

I could not leave

You

Behind, old friend

 

My inspiration to respire,

You

Who wardens away sorrow

And stood strong

Whilst I was meek.

 

Hold my hand

Grasp me tightly

Let my palms tell you a story

Of my journey

From destruction

To my new and former glory.

 

© Ciinders. TheSoulsWord™

Libertus sum

•June 4, 2012 • Leave a Comment

Where are the words that my heart once felt?

The darkness has left me barren.

Once there was a misery, a cloud of guilt

And now light has filled my heart.

 

 

My soul no longer mourns a loss

And with the morn’

Comes spring time’s fresh breeze.

Raindrops invigorate my spirit

To dance, and dance and sing.

 

 

But who am I?

When anger’s lost

Who stands now in my place?

The burden is no more mine

My wallet knows not the cost.

 

 

Forever freed from

Every

Hurtful word

Negativity resides not here

And what a lovely blissful thought

Of no sins or grieves to bear.

 

© Ciinders. TheSoulsWord™

Infactuation

•February 4, 2012 • Leave a Comment

Diamond in the roughest darkness,
Reflection of my closest likeness.
Dreamer of misty gallows,
May I crawl with you tonight?

Fluorescent eyes of lost hope,
Adornment of the Pope.
My relic to keep my breath afloat
The ember to my cinder
May I walk with you tonight?

Ghost-like figure haunting me,
In the chambers if my heart.
Crimson wine upon thy lips,
When I dare to make you mine.
May I run with you tonight?

Bold and daring stronghold,
Heed my only wishes.
To be pressed against your chest
And be swimming in love’s riches
May I fly with you tonight?

Mournful river of sticks,
Here are my gold coins.
Take me on a midnight ride
To end the other life.
May I lie with you tonight?

© Ciinders. TheSoulsWord™

The Natural Killers: Natural Killer Cells.

•January 23, 2012 • Leave a Comment

This page was created by me (Cindy Ikie) for the purpose of supporting the “Natural Killer Cell” poster submitted as an assignment for ‘The Living Cell (2)’ module of a BSc Biochemistry course at Reading University (2012). The video’s and pictures displayed are not created by me and I take no credit for them. The websites as to where I attained the videos/pictures are listed below or can be found via Youtube.

Websites:

http://www.conkwest.com/natural-killer-cells

Untitled.

•January 3, 2012 • Leave a Comment

My inspiration is long lost

Under the murky waters

Of the Sargasso Sea.

Burden me not, oh kind words

I have long abandoned thee.

 

You crash against my coast

and your tide outweighs my sand

and

You bang against mind’s iron bars

but on paper you’ll never land.

 

My flow is now a myth to man

and long forgotten is,

the beauty of a talking soul

that now, no longer is.

 

© Ciinders. TheSoulsWord™

Writer’s Block

•September 19, 2011 • 1 Comment

So it’s late afternoon and I’ve decided that I want to write a little something. You know, just a little something to keep my ever aging brain ticking. Thinking of buzzwords for today ; dawn, solemn, somber. They all start cropping up. In the outside world as in literally, on the other side of my front door, there is a hustle. The type of hustle we are so eager to escape from. Yet, I take a quick glance. Unfortunately I stare straight at my metaphorical car and look at its metaphorical sticker on its most definitely metaphorical rear window. “A block is for life, not just for christmas”.

There he is again, scampering around the house, scratching away at the front door. Reminding me that once in a while, the block needs attention and will prevent you from focussing your mind anywhere else. I place my fingers to the keyboard, and attempt to make a single stroke. No! dear old block will not stand for it, and so leaves the door scratching then jumps up onto the desk. You little solid clump. “PLEASE, not now, anytime but now” if i were some sort of ghost lingering in my own home, watching this happen, I’d most probably look at myself and think “poor sod”, haha, poor me.

I watch the panting block and consider my options. I mean this thing has got to weigh like 100kg at least. Maybe I’ll be able to coax it off with some sort of sugary treat. I unwrap the chocolate bar (typical, I know) and devour it. Wait a couple of minutes.

There is no sign of progress. Bouncing on my toes, ready for block to move so that I can make a Usain Bolt-like sprint to the desk. Tapping my foot, to feel the rhythm of the “wind beneath my feet?”. Ridiculous. I’ve moved about frantically and block remains sleeping in the way of any success. Honestly, I would have beaten it half to death, if I had the heart to do so.

Solemn, I sit on the couch and start thinking. “It’s not like I’ve got anything particularly important to say. I mean, how does J.K. Rowling put up with her block? And what is it with us writers and our obsession with blocks, I could have named mine a circle. That’s what it feels like sometimes, endless, continuous, every word synonymous for forever. Nope, we like our blocks. Road blocks, toilet blocks, even children have blocks. Perhaps we are a nation of obsessed block lovers. At least the pressure is off on me, I haven’t got to write any official articles, or reports. I don’t have to form my words in the most delicate manner before I put them down. And I haven’t got to worry about my audience suspecting that I’m implying that professor Snape is Harry Potter’s real father. Because, all that would be too much pressure. Ha, could you imagine if Moses had a block. “In the beginning there was…” block. No, you aren’t going to continue, you have to take me out for a walk, NOW. Well, I’d feel rather sorry for that block. God would most probably smite it. Smite, what a word.

Yours always,

© Ciinders. TheSoulsWord™

 
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