souls frame joy, delicate delight that soothes the eyes, that scents the air with perfumes from imagination, plays music on the heartstrings aching to be used and filled with love for memories just pave the way to future pleasures, words waiting in the wings to give the lonely spirit peace.
mem'ry lays down patterns in the flesh, the bone, the blood that we inhabit leaving trails and traces set for resurrection at the tug, a flash of colour drift of scent airborne arpeggios calling back the shape of a smile, of eyes, of lips starting echoes of endearments in the lonely heart that had almost but not quite forgotten it was lonely. If once we love the ashes of that fire are there forever waiting to be stirred up by a song.
with thanks and apologies to druidess whose post triggered this.
i have to ask, i too am fatally allergic to bee stings in fact i carry shots with me as i have about three minutes to shut down if stung.
why is the fact that i find the topic amusing less valid than the fact that someone else does not?
That is what i get - rightly or wrongly - from mf's comment , my amusement is of the same weight as someone else's grief and why should i be criticised for feeling amusement (the feeling i got -rightly or wrongly - from the mourning lady's post)
perhaps every one can take a moment and remember it is very easy to misjudge intent when denied body language and tone of voice. There is no need to keep adding fuel to the sparks, no matter who 'started it' anyone who' continues it' shares the fault.
Butterfly band aids bedeck the heart much broken by the promise of forever, words off a silver tongue edged like a knife with lies to capture the unwary always eager for the future looking for the steadfast eyes the gentle hand that offers up tomorrow like a prize a symphony of love, much more than false notes on an ill-played horn. tomorrow may paint rainbows across lashes drenched with tears but hope will scramble in a pocket and another dusty band aid will seal the latest wound faith has inflicted in its search for love as though we need the bitter with the sweet the pleasure and the pain to let us know we live.
those of us who lived there watched the dirty sky and breathed the dead for weeks and all our tears could not quench the fires set by hate by ignorance and evil. I remember I still hear the crash still feel the recognition that one could be an accident but two... and those of us who lived there would gaze acros the river at the hole torn in the soul of the world and weep for our dead heroes let them never be forgotten let them live forever in the ways we seek peace.
just a note, as I abhor plaigarism. I do not sign my own original work but always give attribution if i quote someone else's work
sit by me for a while I’ll sing sweet nothings close against your throat before I rip it out and use your blood to tint the coming dawn no, no, don’t run, just sit and listen to the promise of forever that I offer dream of perfection clothed in flesh and faith. faithful, stuffed with hope that forever takes no effort presents no bill, costs nothing, just a smile, a hot dog now and then to warm the heart, fill the lonely places that ache without a name for love. sit by me for a while I’ll show you pretty pictures they are lies, all lies and I will eat your heart for breakfast if you want me to, you do, you know an empty heart in search of love clinging to my siren song of heat of happy ever after in the morning noon and night dreams and I will eat it up and spit it out unless you read the fine print, see the bigger picture that I, a nothing, offer nothing nothing that will last, I am the seduction that keeps you on the surface so i can feed while you starve, playing golf or shopping, pushing pens as though that is a life. You could be dancing.
Hey ginger, if I had read the whole thread I probably would not have posted - ijust checked your original comment and agree with your analysis being highly possible.
I look back on all the 'in loves' in my life who just are not there any more.
One guy who I've known for thirty plus years, who at one time made me weak at the knees (I got over it)who has never said i love you to me was sitting here talking with me for three hours this week, checking out how I am doing. That is a type of caring that I would value over 'in love'.
And besides "in love" happens when you least expect it, it is what adds the depth and polish when real every day love exists.
Sounds a bit like you hve a commitment issue, especially with having a timeline set up and all. Basically you have to go with your heart or you can make two people very unhappy with their lot.
just don't throw out the baby with the bathwater, it is really hard getting them back later....
I love you three wisps of breath that make pulses leap at wrist, at throat, make hearts stutter on the downbeat as this merest movement in the air carries a universe of pain of pleasure wrapped in a hint of sound I love you all the echoes of forever shimmer in the heat of human breath that bears the promise of paradise regained or never lost at all a time when just three words forged links to last, to honour and obey promise between souls I love you. Breathe in as I breathe out and let love live
in a similare vein there is a site called free rice which gives rice to feed hungry people as well while helping to improve your vocabulary there are amazing opportunities to help out there. in big ways and in little ways. All we have to do is click!
What amazingly talented and skilled people we alll are.
I admit to being an inveterate dabbler I like to try new things enough to understand them, some I return to to become competent, some I work at hard enough to sharpen skills.
Nothing has ever been useless -even jellied chicken feet from the pressure cooker were good for feeding the dogs!
moments slip into gentle patterns kissing fragrant air as they warp and weft and weave in infinite shifts of rainbow light a spectrum on the soul or oil on water to beguile the eye to see that dark is never absolute, that dawn is always just a night away.
bajanblue Forum Posts (3,724)
Feeling the Tug