Hectic,
Mind running amuck.
concentration limited,
Long days.
So much to do,
No time to do it in.
So much effort towards so little.
Accomplishment,
success,
Day is complete,
Yet not all is done.
Set aside for tomorrow.
Thus is the cycle.
Wearing us down,
Pushing us forward.
Keeping us going,
Towards a common goal.
To complete the list of tasks we create.
It’s a slow day,
a ‘nothing much to do’ day,
a laid back, andante sort of day.
So I sit on my chair,
place my fingers on the keys
and watch
words
appear,
(as if by magic)
on this linen white
snow bright screen.
Where do they come from
I wonder?
These words
that pop
like rabbits
from a hat,
like notes
from a bird,
like bubbles
from a pipe?
These fancies
that start in my head
slip into my fingers
and reveal themselves
like strangers
before my eyes?
And does it really matter anyway -
On this slow, lazy Saturday?
In a large skillet over medium-low heat, melt butter. Brown chicken in hot butter, turning to brown both sides, about 8 to 10 minutes total. Remove from skillet. Add onion; sauté for about 5 minute, or until onion is tender. STir in heavy cream, mustard, tarragon, salt, and pepper. Add chicken back to skillet; heat to a simmer. Cover and simmer over low heat until chicken is tender, about 20 minutes. Remove chicken from skillet. Whisk sour cream into the sauce in skillet until smooth. Serve the chicken Dijon with sauce spooned over chicken breasts.
Chicken Dijon recipe serves 4 to 6.
This is a new favorite of mine to make, hope the rest of you enjoy!
Here I am alone in my bedroom,
With just my thoughts for company,
Sitting here thinking, finally believing,
That I was just too blind to see,
That however hard I tried, however hard I strive,
Working to make you happy,
I just couldn’t comprehend that message you sent that all you needed was me.
So all of you listening try to learn from my mistakes,
That life’s not all about trying to make your own breaks.
Sometimes all you need to survive,
Is right there in front of your eyes.
So you professor don’t show off your fancy degree,
And you superstar don’t brag about your tons of money.
Cause all of you are too blinded just to see,
That none of you are as happy as me.
Here I am alone in my bedroom,
With just my thought for company,
But then you walk in with a smile on your lips and a sparkle in each of your eyes,
and finally, sitting here, with you, beside you, I’m just about able to realize.
That life’s not all about that history behind you,
Or the things that you do that you don’t really want to,
All you need is that someone right there, with you, to love you, right in front of your eyes.
So all of you listening try to learn from my mistakes,
That life’s not all about trying to make your own breaks.
Sometimes all you need to survive,
Is right there in front of your eyes.
Why do we complain
when we have everything.
We have all we need to live
a comfortable life.
But we walk around
with ingratitude and strife.
We should stop and think
about others,
not just of ourselves.
For it is in humility
that one discovers
true dignity…
When tragedy hits
we all throw fits
for a minute or two.
But when it’s over
we brush it aside
and continue on this
fascinating ride of
life….
Stamina fades so fast
to work-out physically;
Head’s aiming for great stuffs.
The essence throw up
the routinely ways.
Sometimes things just happen,
feelings promptly ended.
Mind’s stopping to anticipate,
Eyes are just closing to see,
What the ears hear.
Loneliness occurs time to time,
Emptiness filled the motions.
Unsatisfactory scenes entangles.
Contentment struggles while
Hope is willing to pause for a little while.
Moment to moment…
Seconds to minutes…
Minutes to hours…
Bits and pieces are motionless.
Temporary fades, Temporarily occurs.
I know nobody is perfect
and this I wont deny
and nobody includes me and you
at the least we all can try
Perfections like a paradox
a puzzle that can’t be solved
a riddle that’s impossible
a ghost that roams around
so why do we try to be
this word we call perfection
when we’re not happy with how we act, think and feel
and when we look at our reflection
There is no time, No time to spare,
These are the moments, In which we share,
There is no time, Forget the past,
For nothing is forever, This will not last,
There is no time, The end is near,
Love each moment, Live not in fear.
This is a triolet (pronounced /ˈtraɪ.əlɨt/ or US: /ˌtriː.əˈleɪ/) is a one stanza poem of eight lines. Its rhyme scheme is ABaAabAB and often all lines are in iambic tetrameter: the first, fourth and seventh lines are identical, as are the second and final lines, thereby making the initial and final couplets identical as well.
The form stems from medieval French poetry – the earliest written examples are from the late 13th century. The triolet is a close cousin of the rondeau, another French verse form emphasizing repetition and rhyme. Some of the earliest known triolets composed in English were written by Patrick Cary, briefly a Benedictine at Douai, who purportedly used them in his devotions. British poet Robert Bridges reintroduced the triolet to the English language, where it enjoyed a brief popularity among late-nineteenth-century British poets. Triolets are a relatively rare form.
Clumsy Heart
My clumsy heart has two left feet
It always trips when I see you
It starts to race and skip a beat
My clumsy heart has two left feet
It’s starting now to feel the heat
Because of all the things you do
My clumsy heart has two left feet
It always trips when I see you.
