Do not resent the journey

Do not resent the journey

Forever young is a state of mind

Memories are only lost if left behind.

Life keeps moving, so you must do too;

Cherish your moments they go far too soon.

And in the mean while, as time passes by,

Don't loose your happiness, the glistening in your eye.

Sure things can happen, it is not always fair -

But success comes from determination. You will definitely get 'there'.

Do not resent the journey, do not grow weary of time.

For when the moment is right, you'll be sure to shine.

The Midst above the Puddles

The midst above the puddles seem like angels standing by ,
Watching the with gentle, thoughtful and the most diligent of eyes.
The reflection of the sky in the puddles, seem like pieces that have fallen down to earth,
Fragments of blue and light, colours of the the most worth
But when you step in the puddles those pieces are broken away.
The fragile glimpses of heaven- no longer here to stay.

So please don't step in the puddles, for as perfect as they are,
They can be broken, rapidly torn and their reflection distant and far.

I will not step in the puddles.
I will not damage what has been made; by the dew from the storehouses of heaven
The sky on earth is saved.

By Lakechia Jeanne ©

When hard times inspire ...

I recently discovered that: great disappointments in life bring out your true character and personal nature . You discover the essence of your soul and truly evaluate everything that you live for once a dream that you had been hoping and praying for falls to the ground.
Your optimism is tested, and your courage refined.
I often think, maybe the creator of the universe is trying to tell me something. This defining moment is one where you never look back . You stand exactly where you are and accept your mistake, learn from it .
You look to the future and refuse to be defined by your current status.
Most importantly. You find yourself. And you find God .
This next poem I wrote was inspired from a series of my diary entries straight after I had received quite physically the biggest disappointment I'd  ever experienced. It was a dark time. But things are much more clear when you see through God's eyes. I know it wouldn't have happened if it wasn't meant to be . I trust the divine will; and am expectant and resilient for whatever the future may bring.

The Faith

I can't see this as I write it.
The darkness is closing in.
I can't see it as I imagined ,
Like the fall away from sin.
The scene of hope is lost and gone,
The future seems bleak and dark -
but that's my eyes,
and in deep disguise,
I know my heart.
There's a hope buried deep beneath the ground,
Where soul and spirit meet .
There's an inner strength, I know will rise -
Though see still my heart is weak.
There's a hope, hidden deep in the sound of a tomorrow,
Ignited by the Maker Meek.
And a light at the end of this night.
A faith - for which I seek.


By Lakechia Jeanne ©

The Journey

Even now as I look out to the passing blue above me,
Even now as I write my thoughts on the shades of white in front of me.
Even now as I hear the wind blowing through my window pane ...
I think .
I wonder .
On the life that is ahead of me.
On what day will I see the world for what it truly is ?
At what time will I realise how precious it is in passing ?
Which hour will bring God's greatest gift into my life -
And how will the most significant minute arrive by my side ?
At what moment -
Will joy overflow with abundance and fill my heart ?
These questions follow me day and night,
 but still The unanswerable answers continue my mind to fill.
How soon will the time be ?

Dear God the way, please show me.
And help me to enjoy the journey.


By Lakechia Jeanne ©

Here is a poem I wrote a couple of weeks ago , after I finished writing it , I found that I myself had to go back, re- read, try and make sense out of it . I guess is was written in an absent state of mind . I find that my favourite poems normally are . Where you don't think about the words ... you just let them flow.

The deepest parts of sincere hearts 

Weeping is the fountain from which deep waters flow,
From the deepest parts of sincere hearts- places one will ever know.
I am fixed on the things of surpassing greatness,
Even though in present, my mind feels weightless-
How will I catch it ?
Oh do not fly away .
I want to hold you in my hand. Grasp you. Please stay.
Always want to control the things that cant't be tamed.
Want to capture the moment without it being framed .
Yes all things are good . Yes all things are bad .
But if what is happening is really happening ,
 How can we know what we once had ?


By Lakechia Jeanne ©

Patching up the Crimson Field

 Have recently started watching a new BBC miniseries. And I have to say , it has really surprised me. It is an amazing series, not the typical world war drama- it has such depth , and I love how graphic they have made the horror of war appear, I really enjoy watching it . And Oona Chaplin is an amazing actress. Her eyes convey such depth and her character is so complex ; she definitely does a great job of communicating 'kittys' emotions. 

Aside from the series itself . I've always respected the war veterans , and everything they experienced. The beginning of the series shows a poppy been sewn together, I thought it represented so much. I had to write about it. Here it is :

Patching up the Crimson Field :


Mending the poppies 
Patching up the Crimson field
Don't let the wind whisp away the petals far.
Bring the flowers and lay them down.
By the cold stones planted in the ground.
Mend the wounds , patch up the crimson scars.
The trauma and memory , oh so distant but not so far.
Gather the harvest . The lives well loved. 
The battle well fought.
Keep in mind. Rest your head.
Eyes are heavy , but not for the bed.
Clasp the pictures gaze at fear.
Vision is cloudy , spirit is clear.
 Look to the Maker , look up to the sky .
Who ever thought it would be your time to -
The ground is brown no hope insight .
Gaze into the future what sheer delight .
Mending the lives, war- torn, without shield .
Mending the poppies ,
Patching up the crimson field.




- by Lakechia Jeanne ©

Divine Inspirations

Wide as I can, I will stretch.
Small as I am, with every breath.
Refreshing breeze fill me empty.
Refine my soul, wash me gently.
Come and kiss my tears away, 
Come and make the laughter stay.
In due time when the perfect is shown,
Show me the path from which you have blown.

- Lakechia Jeanne ©