Hanging with Happiness

I used to hang with Happiness
he brought me many smiles
but then one day he disappeared
and left me lonely miles

I used to play with all his friends
Laughter, Joy, Surprise,
no end
but when he left that fateful day
I found they all had gone away

I used to hang with Happiness
he always sparked my mind
but then one day he disappeared
the day that I went blind

he took the world that I could see
including my identity
and left a void inside of me
a life I can no longer be

I miss those days of running free
of feeling wild immensity
now I linger long in bed
lost in wonders in my head

this the only place I see
the only world where I am free
the dreams deep inside of me
and sleep the door that sets me free

I wonder as the day dawns black
if he might someday come back
and with this hope I make my way
a chance that I might hear him say…

I’ve brought my friends to play

tio stib
2015, 2017

You might also enjoy: Truth, A Child’s Smile

River of Words

River of Words

my life floats down a river of words
on paragraphs, syllables, tales once heard
they call out as I drift by
love and pain, both truth and lies

emphatic “yes!”
a stolid “no.”
the overused, unhelpful “so”
“I’ll be there”
“why not?”
“you said”
“I don’t care”
“quiet, please”
“how can I think?”
“have you ever seen the sky so pink?”

the words speed up
the rapids roar
fearful sounds from times before
then I’m lost and swept away
chaos and cacophony
gulping right and spitting wrong
gasping as I’m thrown along
shouting voices, “me! me! me!”
screaming insecurity
then bashed on conflict’s argument
my heart gives out
my soul is spent

in drowning plight
I see a dove
one final thought


the verbal roar falls far behind
consciousness comes back to mind
as grace, sweet heaven, sets me free
and quiet waters welcome me

my life floats down a river of words
heading towards a voice unheard
yet whispers on the waves call me
“you can, dear one, you can be free”




tio stib, 2017

You might also enjoy: Floating, A Mirrored Smile

My Father’s Watch

Another beautifully written vignette of human existence by Peter Wells.


I did not know my father, he died before I became conscious enough about life to recognise a face or understand a situation so I was largely raised by my aunt for long period sas my mother often went missing somewhere in her mind,  locked in her bedroom, wrapping herself in grief and religion, or something of that sort: we never had a chat involving the sharing of emotions.

From the age of eighteen my father’s watch, curiously non-committal it must be said, as it no longer worked and read eleven-thirty six regardless of the hour, was fixed to my wrist as a momento of a person I never met but thought about regularly: it connected me to him.

Out of good manners I take it off while I bath, and lay it on the shelf by the tub so its fragile workings are not further damaged by water. It has never pretended to be more than it is or made a promise it could…

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A Carefully Considered Courtship

Peter Wells is a writer of sublime wit and deep human insight. This post provided me a much needed smile.


Charles Junkett, a surname he hated by the way, and Samantha Prigg met on the first day of University at a ‘Freshers’ gathering where both were meant to throw caution to the wind and drink deeply from the froth-filled chalice of freedom and irresponsibility. Charles dressed in a suit and sipping carefully at his lime cordial and mineral water noticed that the girl beside him, dressed in a brown below the knee skirt and matching blouse was also supping from the same cocktail.

“Great Minds” he said to her raising his glass, and she replied, “Wished they were somewhere else”. He looked at her more seriously and replied “Don’t they just. I say, do you fancy wandering off and having a coffee somewhere else instead,” and she did not mind: so had begun a courtship which had lasted for fifteen years.

They both lived in the same suburb of the…

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