SugarBumPrincess

A writing space for you to enjoy and a writing space for me to employ to increase my writing pace.

Unhindered Happiness

There are holes at the end of my socks,
But no happiness escapes,
For it flows freely and is bound by no locks.

Humongous Hippopotamus Hindered By Humorous Hummingbird

Just an exercise in alliteration that I pushed a little further than originally planned.

Humongous hippopotamus hindered by humorous hummingbird the headline restlessly reads.

The humongous hippopotamus hungered hourly for a tantalising taste of a twisted twig simply structured from silver leaf.

However a hummingbird had homed itself inside each ickle inch of that tantalising twisted twig.

So, so, sadly, so was the beautiful bird blindly broken away from it’s architecturally astounding abode.

The hummingbird hissed huffily and hovered. Watching when it would waft over the animal’s absolutely awful area.

A sneaking, snickering smile smattered itself indiscriminately into the ill-fated face of the fearless feathered plotter.

As the hippopotamus headed homeward hungry still, the hummingbird hit his head with a waterdroplet which was close to wing.

Humongous as the hippopotamus was the hummingbird was high out of reasonable reach of relatively restricted arms.

But the bird blew it’s benefit as it swooped so low singing a song of good glory and gloating greatly.

In such a swift silencing sentence the hippopotamus hit the hindering hummingbird sending said bird soaring skywards.

Belly Rubs!!!

This poem is based upon my fiancée’s dog. He loves attention from everything! Human, dog, cat, fox. You name it, he wants to play with it!

Scritch, scritch, scritch,
The dog is kept faithful,
And payment is made.
Scratch, scratch, scratch,
He is his most playful,
When love seems to fade.

A Meditation: On Leviticus 20:7 // And Be Holy //

“Consecrate yourselves, therefore, and be holy, for I am the LORD your God” – Leviticus 20:7 (ESV)

Man is neither in the position of consecrating his own self nor can he become holy by his own efforts. We are fallen people. Someone fallen in a pit cannot get out without getting any help from the outside.

But the internet is full of lines that goes as be your own salvation, trust in yourself, create yourself, life is ours for the making et cetera. These lines were made to be encouraging but to a believer like me it is downright sad because we know only Christ can save us and nobody else.

But the fact that God calls us to consecrate ourselves and be holy is not about self effort (though we are called to set ourselves apart from the ways of the world) but it is more…

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Flight of Memory

Things fly from my mind as vultures fly to a fresh kill.

Jumble

I never could before control my wording.
My sentences were a mess of letters.
Some still are, but I try hard in ordering.

The main problem, that I still find,
Causing me such ache of tongue,
Is the control of my self-mind.

Fact: my mind is all a jumble,
Because of that, I am kept down,
Not depressed, but greatly humble.

I realise that if a thought is got,
Then that means it has been given.
Given by whom? Given through what?

I have faith that my answer is correct,
But having read and considered many,
It is difficult to tell someone direct.

Flakes, Please Fall

Flakes of snow, Please do fall,
It would be, Good for all,
To see a, Blanket down,
On the Earth,
One still giving warmth,
Though far from a hearth.

The Snake and The Frog

I enjoyed writing How The Fir Tree Came To Be so much that I decided to have another pop at a similar style, but this time it’s become more Aesop’s Fables than Rudyard Kipling. In fact, it started off as a short story influenced slightly by Brer Rabbit.

If you enjoy these longer, more in depth poems and the detail I write as an introduction, then please let me know in the comments. I appreciate every ones input 🙂

The sun was bright,
And struck the tree,
From where our tale hails,
Incidentally.

“Why, Mr Frog, what does bring you here?”
Purred Sir the Snake with a hunger drenched voice.
“Oh, Sir Snake!” Cried Fitch the Frog,
“Why should you make such a choice!”

“For if I were eaten by your good self,
All your unshed skins would be found,
Curled at the bottom of your sleeping shelf!”

Stopping mid slide, an expression came on Sir’s snout,
(Untried before this time) as was seen by Fitch.
“You are confused, Sir?” He questioned,
“I am.” Sir replied with a twitch.

“Do you not see my yellow banding?
Do you not see my green topped head?
Of poisons, these are a sign and branding.”

Sir the Snake coiled to an upright position.
“Tell me more, educated friend.” Spoke he,
Fitch replied: “A bright colouring,
Can show a poison, or be sneaky.”

So Fitch explained in deep details,
His personal life defences,
And what it – having no poison – entails.

Grinning from one unlatched jaw to the other,
Sir the Snake thanked Fitch the Frog greatly.
“My dear dinner, what a kind thing.
It has been such a nightmare lately.”

The Frog was eaten in seconds,
Sir slithered stage left soon after,
As another foolish meal has beckoned.

Take this lesson,
Learn it well,
Know your enemies,
But do never tell.

River Flowing, Bright Blue Growing

Dragged in by the current,
And the river flows on.
Being in here isn’t so bad,
Held up by the watery throng.
Bubbles rising from beneath,
Fish swim in aqua blue.
Crabs clamped down into the mud,
Seaweed sways without due.

Time!

I think this may be the earliest I’ve posted a poem without it being prepared beforehand! The idea rushed upon me and I had to get it down, so here it is.

Time: what a master!
Give thanks he is not head of the school,
For he grinds out his lessons,
In fervour unbound,
And drives all his students,
Straight to the ground.

Time: what a lord!
Give thanks that he is not ruling as king,
As subjects we’d tremble,
Our knees creaking low,
He’d patiently hold us,
Then let us all go.

Time: what a hunter!
Give thanks he owns no grounds for himself,
For surely he would take,
All game in his way,
Whether they do run,
Or whether they play.

Time: what a searcher!
Give thanks that he does not hold a great sight,
For if he did, then,
Oh, then he would know,
That he shall be caught too,
No more to fly and crow.

Time: what a dog!
Give thanks he is never loosed from his leash,
He is held in check,
By an arm so strong,
It can hold, and does hold,
Every thing, all the day long.