Mind and Soul’s Release..by MwsR

For today breathe a little
Take time, your heart can be brittle
Unkind words will soon fade
Just like our bodies often cast a shade
Things worth it are many
They won’t be announced like in the Grammys
Nice thoughts are like pillows for your heart
Doesn’t matter if you don’t make the first start
Patience will come to you
Just in time, it will ensue
Helping you to heal…
To feel
Making realizations forefront in your mind
Directing you like a stick does for the blind
In time you will grow
If not by making errors, maybe in your heart it will show.
Fly with problems, as well as in peace
It’s your mind and your soul’s release.

MwsR Writings


It’s not how much money you have or how expensive the things you have are that matter.
It’s your effort…your gusto…your heart…your smile…your forgiving nature…the kindness that makes you special.
Anyone can buy new and better things but a soul cannot be bought.


Silent/Poem Share


Photo by Hannes L. on Pexels.com

Silently we search for something, anything

Patiently we put off things just to give time to that waiting

It is a thing we often do the most alone

Never telling anyone what we feel inside or what is wrong.

There can come no answers from people’s glances

Only the soul is that direct and true

It does not confuse us or distort our trust

What it requires from us

It is best to find out

Silently it actually says so very much

It never even needs a human touch

Souls are silent answers the things within

The things we patiently wait on to either start or end

Our feelings follow suit with what our souls silently say

We often time get in its way.

Emotional robots we are

Letting ourselves be told how to feel

Often time we don’t listen to our soul and its silence

We should, before we lose the ability to actually hear.



Quote Share/ From MwsR



It is sometimes that the thinnest cut can bleed the heaviest

Just like for our souls…

Sometimes the thinnest “cut” to our souls can produce the greatest outpouring of emotions.

MwsR ❤

photo of red heart shaped paper hanging on rope
Photo by Jess Watters on Pexels.com

Underneath/poem by MwsR


light sky space abstract
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Underneath a soul well-traveled lies lots of things that lead to the present day

Things that where neither meaningless or special in present forms

A reminder of things past and a recollection of things done before

Ever spinning around the soul like a top when twirled onto the floor.

Un-rehearsed actions that tell a story of a life that is lived and still remains

Pictures promote the happily ever after but behind those photos are stains

Stains of all the things that have rubbed of onto this soul.

Things that were broken and once again was made whole

Faults all on their own, nothing really to blame

The soul is a like a piano in that it plays sometimes, mindless tunes

No real rhyme or reason

Playing as if there is an audience of believers of the same things

Never learning the real truth,

The one that lies underneath a life full of living

And a heart filled to the brim with  lots of believing.



Waiting for so long with so much in between the wait, the blinks.

Trembling in anticipation but afraid to make final contact.

Just once she wanted the things she wished for.

That happily ever after she dreamed of.

Trudging through each day barely making sense of it all

Was she living in a dream or was she just that small?

Bartering for every second chance she ever had

Holding tight to what made her glad.

Restless was her soul and mind

She knew one day she would finally matter.

Or would she?

After all it was not her fault she was uprooted

Taken away from her heritage, her blood.

People acted as if she was not much

Just some burden that they really had to watch.

Her aspirations turned into dust when she was torn between an angering hearts rust.

Years went by as they still do

Couldn’t recall but only a few, when she let her soul and mind rest.

For she was constantly weeding out the un-important from the best.

Not that there was an over abundance of that.

Her “when” just got up one day and left her, it would seem

Because they are crumbled somewhere between real and her dreams.

Mws R