My name is Karla and when I was born my name was almost going to be Yoko. There are times I wish I knew who I would have become if I were Yoko. Instead, I am Karla and I would not change it if I could. I write because it makes me happy. I'm not an expert but there is something special when people tell stories.You may or may not understand my poems, stories, or what I call segments of my life;I hope to inspire. Even if it's just a fragment of inspiration.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
It was not a frog
"Don't give pearls to pigs" said a very close friend of mine. It seemed harsh and for a moment I looked at him like he was crazy. He said, that there are times that we give pearls to people that won't cherish them. A pig doesn't know the difference between a rock or a pearl. We want the pig/person to know the difference and cherish what we give. So if a relationship doesn't workout is probably because they could not tell the difference between a rock or a pearl. Many times we want to give and give but we get no response. We are stubborn as a mule. Next time just hold on to the pearls, until you know that person is ready to cherish and see the difference. Love just enough and when you are ready you will see how you will wow that pig. They will love your pearls, cherish, and understand they will make them their own valuable positions.
Friday, May 10, 2013
Revolving door
We start outside looking in
He takes a step, I take a step
Like the foot prints when you dance
We fallow step by step
In one turn
I walk in
He walks out
It turns again
I walk out he walks in
Like flamenco dancing
Sharp, hard we turn
Stepping in stepping out
We seek each other only to push away
As it turns I start to cry
He on the other hand is thorn apart
Inside I forget to breath, the walls closing in
I can see him and I scream
As he smiles he walks out
Untouched with his pride, he can breath
It turns, I am back in
It turns, I am out
It turns, he is in
It turns, he is out
Never to meet
It turns, this time I walk away
He takes a step, I take a step
Like the foot prints when you dance
We fallow step by step
In one turn
I walk in
He walks out
It turns again
I walk out he walks in
Like flamenco dancing
Sharp, hard we turn
Stepping in stepping out
We seek each other only to push away
As it turns I start to cry
He on the other hand is thorn apart
Inside I forget to breath, the walls closing in
I can see him and I scream
As he smiles he walks out
Untouched with his pride, he can breath
It turns, I am back in
It turns, I am out
It turns, he is in
It turns, he is out
Never to meet
It turns, this time I walk away
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