Thursday, 7 March 2013


Forced from home by noise and alarm,
Unwanted intermissions induce fists full of harm,
Your workspace is packed up, transported away,
To a refuge of safety in words you could say,
Or write, or dictate, or just tumble around,
Specifics aren't something to worry about,
You reach your asylum, open your work,
Devastation clouds eyes like handfuls of dirt,
Between distraction and refuge something is lost,
Taken from homeland and bluntly forgot,
It will never be finished, an idea not explored,
You are left feeling hopeless and homeless and torn.


  1. I love how you are able to write about a situation so frustrating and turn it into brilliant poem!
    It is hard for me to say what I feel when I read this. Maybe that I don't feel alone anymore seeing that others have gone through this too. But then again I would rather be alone that have you or any of my other dear friends/blog family go through this.
    *hugs tight*
    It's always good to read soemthing of yours again Taia. You are so amazing and bright!
    *hugs again*

    1. Thank you, Kallista, *hugs back*
      The comments which you leave are always so wonderful, and I can't thank you enough for your words.
      It gives me the ability to look at what I write with a new perspective, and with the thoughts of another fantastic human in mind. And then I can act upon that.
      Other than this, they just make me feel brilliant.
      You give me more to write, and you let me know that it's worth putting down, as well.
      *hugs again* Really, really, thank you.