The shortest day arrived to spend its Solstice silver in a flash of light and bustle as Christian Mass loomed near; now, just two days later, the eastern sky already shows the signs of sunrise red sailors' warning streaks woven through the blue to make a tapestry of light returning to the world; quick sacrifice was made to close down winter, return the land to warmer, softer hands so my green world stays green.
Love is a pillow of warmth and heat. feel the passion oh so neat Pulsating bodies her sweat tastes sweet Strong as the sun maybe your sunlight shines deep in me when night comes the stars sparkle in your eyes Inspiring a calm and profound beauty and peace becoming- enchanting as is this love of ours Breathing together upward we climb caressing my inner soul so deeply
As I share the tenderness of the morning sun's rays Slowly it rises deep from within illuminating my whole being, glowing in knowledge and love lights the way ,through times of need and times to seed embedded in dreams, fanstasies.
Close together exhausted bodies drained organic love making the perspiration rains So much love exchanged
I gaze at her through thousands of miles Rest my love Float on the still ocean drifting drifting like an elegy on the gentle sea. Till mornings light opens your eyes to me
And once again we'll kiss and gaze into each others eyes as we have done for many days. our love will grow and never fade tugged by the primal tides that surge
So sorry to hear this. Just be yourself and do what comes naturally, you will be the strong one when she needs you to be strong, you are allowed to be unhappy about this terribly sad thing.
Thank you for the birthday wishes. I think birthdays are fabulous - everybody's, not just mine (although mine is my favorite!)
Arabella, I have always found it annoying how the solstice skips around...I was conceived on the spring equinox and born on the winter solstice and I stick with that.
Dark morning of the solstice rings in the new year of my life, soft rain a harbinger of growth, of new beginnings; scents of the unknown rising like the promise of tomorrows which never come but change to all the yesterdays I have lived through, playing silent anthems as they swirl through space and time, continuum of living so little understood we die from it not knowing how to hold still in the moment and enjoy it to the full. My birth has grown into a lifetime, touching others here and there with sorrow, joy, and sadness; lighting flames of passion, anger even madness in my wake, and I have wept an ocean laughed a carillon of bells spoken sweet seduction in the night, the afternoon and mornings that I searched for love outside my skin. I have not found you yet although I see your shadow in a word, a smile, a moment when my eyes meet drowning blue, cool grey or warm dark chocolate that seems to recognize the hills, the valleys of my soul, a Friday’s child with solstice wildness dancing in her veins.
Good morning, all.
Happy birthday Solitarius, I seem to remember you saying this is your day as well.
I have been getting the daily weather report for the last two weeks and it is always :Unstable conditions are affecting the island, partly cloudy to cloudy with occasional scattered showers.
Wow! Thank you for bringing this up! I thought they just went on forever somehow and I have reams of words that I wrote here directly and do not have a copy of anywhere else.
Turn words to weapons scarify the flesh and make it bleed oh you will inform their minds, they will turn to whining dogs who beg and show their bellies at your passing some demi god, purporting to be wise, who may just cut them to the bone should they venture an opinion! Debate? Don’t make me laugh! Where is the subtle flair of wit, of whip to bring reaction? No, you wield a bludgeon beating minds that start to make the stretch to shattered pulp and they will whimper mindless ever after. Learn to coax, to cozen and beguile them; make them speak until their own tongues start to spill the truth of it and eyes must open, once open will come to that painful burning never-ending moment where they see and bleed because of it. You do not win debates, nor even yet plant seeds by slamming doors on fingers and slapping faces with dead fish to make them smell the rot of it. You lead them down the gentle path all paved with flowers each twined about with venom of the truth that seeps into the pores and captures breath and seduces so the horror long avoided stands revealed and once the eyes make sense of it, it cannot be unseen. Debate is the art of twisting minds, of stealing them from well worn paths of pushing them to question, not derision of pulling them to open not slamming them to shut.
bajanblue Forum Posts (3,724)
RE: Hey everyone
Adding mine.