<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rdf:RDF xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/" xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:sy="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/syndication/" xmlns:rdf="http://www.w3.org/1999/02/22-rdf-syntax-ns#"><channel rdf:about="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/BlogRss.aspx/RomaKay"><title>Roma Kay: Storms of the Mind - Blogit</title><link>http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/</link><description>College student by day, writer by night. Of course the nights with my key board will soon be taken over by shifts at the local E.R. (more stories to share) Writing is the only thing that keeps me sane. You never know what will be posted. I enjoy reading, riding, and deep contemplation of life.Non-ficton, fiction, poetry, rants, you name it, I'll eventually write it. I have this under the poetry category because it is my first love as far as language is concerned. 
</description><sy:updatePeriod>hourly</sy:updatePeriod><sy:updateFrequency>1</sy:updateFrequency><sy:updateBase>2000-01-01T12:00+00:00</sy:updateBase><items><rdf:Seq><rdf:li resource="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/634819" /><rdf:li resource="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/634624" /><rdf:li resource="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/634453" /><rdf:li resource="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/634373" /><rdf:li resource="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/634283" /><rdf:li resource="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/634047" /><rdf:li resource="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633919" /><rdf:li resource="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633885" /><rdf:li resource="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633735" /><rdf:li resource="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633704" /><rdf:li resource="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633624" /><rdf:li resource="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633585" /><rdf:li resource="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633408" /><rdf:li resource="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633293" /><rdf:li resource="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633189" /><rdf:li resource="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/632970" /><rdf:li resource="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/632874" /><rdf:li resource="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/632583" /><rdf:li resource="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/632453" /><rdf:li resource="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/632389" /></rdf:Seq></items></channel><item rdf:about="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/634819"><title>Stuck Here</title><link>http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/634819</link><description>Why am I stuck here? Where here is, I still need to decide. Why am I stuck here? I yearn for someone in who I can confide. But from where I am, I cannot see. Where here is, I still need to decide. If I could speak these words, then I could be free. I look and wish the words could to be found. But...</description></item><item rdf:about="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/634624"><title>Train</title><link>http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/634624</link><description>The sound of the train woke me, as its whistle calling out into the darkness, echoed through my cracked window. The crickets were silent, summer had fled, and the moon shown pale, in the clear sky, illuminating little in its slight form. Only the wind stirred. The creak of my window as I strained...</description></item><item rdf:about="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/634453"><title>Mask I, II, III</title><link>http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/634453</link><description>Mask I I speak in quiet tones, but can anyone hear the screaming inside my head? My face is calm, and understanding, but can anyone see the undercurrents ripping through my eyes? I love completely, but can anyone sense the cracks and imperfections in my heart? My hands are steady in their work,...</description></item><item rdf:about="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/634373"><title>After the End</title><link>http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/634373</link><description>After the End (this is a new book idea that I have. I don't know if I'll do anything with it, but I figured I'd share anyway.) After the End Death is the root for some of the ultimate questions during life. Well, there is one thing I know for sure now. I’m dead. Sadly, none of my questions that...</description></item><item rdf:about="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/634283"><title>After the End</title><link>http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/634283</link><description /></item><item rdf:about="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/634047"><title>Darkness. (its a little random, but I had fun with the different images)</title><link>http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/634047</link><description>Darkness... to be in wanting of light. A room is never dark without the help of curtains or shades. Some sleep better without the intrusion of light. They draw their shields across the window. Others hearts race at the first sight of the black silhouette of twilight creeping in. They switch on...</description></item><item rdf:about="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633919"><title>Imagine a clearing on a windy day . . .</title><link>http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633919</link><description>See a shadow pass along the ground. Around and around, higher and higher, it doesn't matter; the dark shape is still tied down to the land. Hear the scream, high and sharp. Hear the cry and it carries on and on, holding all the words that are in its heart. There is silence again, but that scream...</description></item><item rdf:about="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633885"><title>Holding Out for a Hero</title><link>http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633885</link><description>16 September 2009 Holding Out for a Hero Flash to a kindergarten room. All the small children are sitting in a circle around a rocking chair which holds the grandmotherly figure of the teacher. Mrs. Doughannie had a loud voice for such a gentle person, and her hair framed her face in a grey halo....</description></item><item rdf:about="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633735"><title>Darkness Descends. . .</title><link>http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633735</link><description>Black cats Witch’s hats Flying bats Dying light Evil spite One night No one is safe when Halloween comes stalking. You better get a grip and stop your knees from knocking. Cause the ghosts can hear you, and other creatures too. If you show weakness it’s your soul they’ll seek with shadowy hands...</description></item><item rdf:about="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633704"><title>How? . . . Love of the Wind . . .</title><link>http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633704</link><description>How do I describe it? The restlessness… the agitation… the stir… and then the nothingness… the numbness… inside my chest. I want the wind washing over me, the song of the North is in my blood. I’m in withdrawal and the detox is almost more than I can bare. I’m walking alone with my friends beside...</description></item><item rdf:about="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633624"><title>How? . . . Love of the Wind . . .</title><link>http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633624</link><description /></item><item rdf:about="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633585"><title>Lost Light</title><link>http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633585</link><description>Walking along, I cannot even see my hand in front of my face, let alone my feet or the ground upon which I tread. Yet, I only stumble, I do not fall. Is there a Grace that holds me? Or is it all a matter of chance? Any moment, the edge could come, and I would be powerless, useless not to take...</description></item><item rdf:about="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633408"><title>Sigh of the Eclipse . . .</title><link>http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633408</link><description>I am for the moon, because I can look upon its face, unlike the sun whose bright rays make me lose my sight. The moon is ever changing, soft and fluid like its light as it phases across the sky. It shares the blue and black abyss of eternity with the far off stars. The sun is jealous, outshining...</description></item><item rdf:about="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633293"><title>In Regret . . .</title><link>http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633293</link><description>I’m regretting not moving to a city where no one knows my name. Far away, I would not have to watch the friends I know change, whether for the good or the bad, I cannot tell. Stationary, and unchanging, that is not how I wanted to be, but that seems to be the place I am standing. My feet are...</description></item><item rdf:about="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633189"><title>Boredom...</title><link>http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/633189</link><description>In math class it is boredom that I feel when numbers and letters are all I see. Some numbers are undefined, others real. The mystery for us is what can X be. Let's work the equations and find it out. Not very exciting if you ask me. When others can't work it out, I want to shout. Adding and...</description></item><item rdf:about="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/632970"><title>Accelerate</title><link>http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/632970</link><description>Sitting alone waiting for the red light hanging high across the intersection to change to green, I tap to the beat of the music softly vibrating the car and what seems to be my hollow chest. Falling steadily, numerous rain drops pound the once parched ground, moon roof, and roll down the dark...</description></item><item rdf:about="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/632874"><title>Matters of the Heart</title><link>http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/632874</link><description>When it comes to the matters of the heart, I believe that my knowledge is lacking. But what I know is, it's better to be smart, and when love comes knocking to start packing. For what is worse than ties that bind you down arms around that prevent your wingsto spread the world shrinking to the...</description></item><item rdf:about="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/632583"><title>Alone . . .</title><link>http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/632583</link><description>Alone. Footsteps echo down dark allies. The buildings rise high above, nothing but glass and stone, holding rooms of empty air, filled with things that no one really needs. The streets are dampened from the countless drops that fall from the mist in the air. Halos glow around the street lamps....</description></item><item rdf:about="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/632453"><title>Gaze of the Sky</title><link>http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/632453</link><description>A girl sits on a fence post starring down the pastures at the herd she calls her friends. If one were to look closely they would call her young, not yet able to pass at woman. From a distance though, her long hair swept up and held in a central spot high on her head blowing in the wind much like...</description></item><item rdf:about="http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/632389"><title>White Butterflies</title><link>http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/RomaKay/632389</link><description>There was a time and place that doesn’t seem real anymore, but the innocence of childhood once lost does seem to be a dream. There is a disassociation in my mind of the girl I was and who I am now. What drew the line? What cut the tie? I may never know. But what I do feel is a grief that sits and...</description></item></rdf:RDF>