WHSmith book fair
Thank you to the organisers of World Book Day 1st of March 2018 in John Mackintosh Hall. You had made a great effort with the Harry Potter room. And a special thank you to the local author Mark Randall. It was a pleasure to meet you and hear all about your adventures.
Thank you to the organisers of World Book Day 6th of March 2014 in John Mackintosh Hall. You had made a great effort with your exhibition.
I am super excited to announce that I have recently recorded three videos with the YouTube blogger Ninja Monkey, as he attempts to achieve Vlogmas. I hope you all view our video and will enjoy baking the Dream (Drömmar) biscuits and the Swedish Chocolate Snowballs that we made. If you want to make them you can find the recipes here for Dreams and here for Swedish Chocolate Snowballs.
At the moment I am writing on my new series The Prophesied Sorcerer. This series will consist of four instalments where three of them is leading up to the fourth. More information will come in the autumn so be sure to sign up to my newsletter not to miss any updates.
I have currently purchased the box set ‘Wings of the wicked’ which is written by multiple authors. I have dived into the first book ‘The son of chaos’ written by Lexi C. Foss and was immediately hooked. These authors will keep me busy for a while.
I don’t have much time watching TV lately, but I’m hoping that there will be a series of episodes following Deborah Harkness’, A discovery of witches soon, as I thoroughly enjoyed the first episodes.
Life’s happiness is like a fishing net,
The moment will slip through if you forget,
Remember to cherish moments big and small,
And who’s there to pick you up as you fall,
Success and richness is nothing on its own,
Ensure not to find yourself with it and alone.
Young Angel’s end
Our tears fall when angels fly,
Young angels, not born to die,
It is one soul’s unfair fate,
In a Universe where salvation was too late.
The grief is greater than one could bear,
A future seems grim and filled with fear,
I wish you comfort and peace in my pray,
And to all those left on Earth to stay.
The letter of my heart
Bless it be, bless it be,
Please surrender now, hear my plea,
Let your heart keep its flame, keep it burn,
And stay not, but wait for my return.
Ask not to build walls around my heart,
If we break chains we will always part,
No soul of true lovers love stronger,
If only apart for minutes it will feel longer.
Eternal time does not exist,
Journey, but return before fog becomes mist.
I take your promise as I take your hand,
If no return I will search you between every grain of sand.
I will not rest any day of my life,
I swear I will find you and make you my wife,
Bless it be, bless it be,
I will then hear your plea.
My heart’s affection
A soulmate with the same heart’s inspiration,
Unlimited possibilities to a utopian creation,
Give me a warm completeness to a wide extent,
Make me safe, happy, completely content.
Make me see, learn, feel every day and every hour,
To make me strong, grow from a seed to a flower,
When scattered fear so clear like a starry night,
You bring calm like a landscaped sight.
When obstacles make me stumble, crash and fall,
To know you’ll be there to help me through it all,
To carry each other when time makes us weak,
We will comfort, support, be cheek to cheek.
You are my north, south, east and west,
Identifying my soul and needs far the best,
All these things I found in you,
Our love is real the love is true.
I will not think ‘what if?’ and ‘why?’
I know I will love you until I die,
No future time spent will be spent apart,
You live within me and ache in my heart.
Your judgemental mind closes your eyes,
To be enlightened; separate truths from lies,
Pass beyond the unawareness lane,
Integrity overcomes fear and pain.
Seek compassion within a spiteful mind,
Spirits erecting evil are never far behind,
Brick by brick hate is building its sturdy wall,
Recuperate your mind for love conquers all.
Old Man’s Tale
An old man’s tale is worth being told,
His wrinkles hide wisdoms in every fold,
Wearied limbs from chasing dreams,
Loss of sight from past visions’ gleams.
Tired bones used strength from passion,
His skin has worn a century of fashion,
Grey hair from days under the sun,
Droopy smiles from years of fun.
Loud songs of bravery given reduced hearing,
Teaching, planted seeds and children bearing,
His exposed old heart learned to love deep,
His experienced mind puts hatred to sleep.
Brick by brick laid by now aching hand,
To build our life on every piece of land,
The wisest young, raised with keen ears,
Yet caring for our elders; society fears.
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