Biography of Joeline Rayment
Well this is a one sided conversation. Seems strange and rather limited to just talk about myself.
Mind you... im sure my Ego loves it, but well the rest of me is sort of falling asleep.
But incase it is in any way pertinant. My name is (oh gosh who would have guessed) Joeline :) Mom loves Dolly parton. I live in the Blue Mountains, NSW, Australia. A place I feel is without doubt one of the most beautiful and life filled places in the world.
Not that I have been over the world that much, though I do hope to make travlling to other lands and cultures in integral part of my life.
I have very little in the way of qulaifications or skills in the area of literature, other then a love of and enjoyment of the reading/writing/experiencing different offerings.
Words have power. But only the power we give them.
If we read with open minds, we feel and learn.
If we read with closed minds, we judge and critisize.
Anyway, as said, one sided convos are not my thing. Please drop me a line if youd like a REAL conversation. Be warned though, im not really a logical thinker and im also not exactly a trivia master.
You expectations are your expectations and I dont need to know what you think of me :) thats your business.
Joeline Rayment Poems
This Too Shall Pass
It is said with a gaze as steady as sky wispy and wavy but never a lie It is said with a smile small or unseen careful and quiet for all that has been
Streaming Serenity the glorious Wind Twining playfully through her dark tresses
Twas a moment afore posting mine verbose, complicated prose wherein each alphabetical symbol was held great analytical thought
I want to be pissed off I want to lash out I want to let self pity explode in a shout.
You can slash me, you can break me but you cannot ever unmake me. You can hurt me, you can tear me but i will not let you scare me.
I am looking through a window made of silk and coloured stone my memory is hazy, am I actually alone?
She cries but even she cannot hear the sound of her weeping, nor feel even one tear.
I am looking through a window
made of silk and coloured stone
my memory is hazy,
am I actually alone?
I cannot move my head
my gaze is fixed outside
lost in strange wonders
of a plastic countryside