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A Mouse Twirling Dust

A Mouse Twirling Dust

A quiet little mouse I am
Staying kind holding ham.
But lies and slams make me cuss
And rip your heart out before I hush,

I'm the big dog
You're the little dog
And you maybe me I'm fighting with,
The fruit of my womb, a gift,

But I’ll crush you like the twirling dust
If you don't back up, back off and hush.
I don't take kindly to missile attacks
When I'm fed-up dodging daggers, holding back.

Like the winds of a category five wind
I've held back profane from my kin
Now you've learn who I am
Staying kind just went ham.

I've calmed down some
And sent regrets to my little one.
Being doubled team by you and her
I lost it feeling really hurt.

Editing stage: 


somehow I think I mostly get this poem by already knowing you. I know your situation and my heart grieves whilst reading it. I'm not sure if someone who doesn't know you would get the depth of pain and courage. I hope they do.
I love you and you inspire me to live.

A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'

Quite a hardish piece to read the emotions spilling out in a raggle, taggle way, yet as straight as an arrow.
Tis the reason for us we seek, and we tend to down ourselves with each problem as they, in their want, pester us each day.
There is a place for many things yet we have to be on top line to be able to cope with all that is thrown at us.
Sometimes I want to scream but it as you have found out does no good.
Better to keep your own council and decide what to do as each thing crops up.
Your write floundered a little, but was typical of our frustration, life as you know is ours to live, your beliefs will hold you and be your judge, but in the end it is your thoughts that hold the majority of the vote.
You take care and be you, Yours Ian.

There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

I cope with each ball thrown my way. This is a seldom moment where the beast was release now I've return to my mousy little self. Now the kiddies see why daddy backs off when my eyes change. Lol. They alright. They thought mommy was a push over. I wanted to write the emotion as Wesley says romanticism. Now I'm mommy thug. A new title for a poem maybe but 'm done with that.

*Collaborative Poetry Workshop* American Version of Japanese Poetry ~ Renga ~ Haiku, Senyru, Tanka.

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