(((((LAMom))))) You make expression so much fun.

<<<<< Curtsy.. me lady

Paint a picture of your life with the scents
and tastes of things and people around you,
roll the noise and different textures
of strident whispers and swirling lives
on your tongue, then try to find your self,
your place in the scheme of things;
in the center, in the periphery of it,
inside of one nuance of it, and another,
outside in the rain of it.

Where have you been, where are you
now, what have you taken with you,
who have you brought along for the ride,
how have you learned; to process pain,
to dance in your joy, to forgive yourself
before others, to accept another
by your own failures, to be here, to be
in the past at the same time, swung
into the now with your laughter intact,
bare feet on the sands..

Do you see it, do you see the future
springing from your past angling into
this instant swinging fast, do you swing
back to a second reading of a memory,
a book, and learn, if only to see clearer still,
or even more dimly, where you stumbled,
where you gained, where you lost someone,
where a life touched you and changed you
without even meaning to, not even trying.

Are you me, am I you, are we running
away from each other, are you still
what you have always been, are you vying
for something more, or just holding on
to what you already have, is love only true
when you see what I see, only real
when I hear what you hear, does together
only truly matter when I am holding you,
or when you are far away; are we only safe
when we are silent?

There is such beauty in ones Underlining of skin,, is there not!

Beautiful

LAMom, as usual, you are too kind and generous. You give me hope, though.

--o0o--




Keep smiling; stay away, you don’t
have to speak a single word,
don’t spoil the lovely nights I worship
when I’m not hurting.
Don’t speak to me
about things you haven’t found
the courage for, to voice out
behind closed curtains;
it’s way easier
to stay silent and liked,
harder still to forgive yourself
when you have no one beside you
you trust enough to practice
forgiveness on.

Trust, it’s a gift, until you fail it.

Still, your hands, though imagined,
were the first to ask,
I believe, and then your lips
insisted I dare not say no; pacts, body-wise,
and promises, made in silence, are ever
easier in the breaking.

Don’t speak to me about things you
haven’t found the courage to forgive yourself for;
trust me, instead, as if I really cared,
trust me as if a path of least resistance
somebody else offers in lieu of lies you haven’t
invented yet were a godsend,
trust me as if nothing you do will ever
take away
my own ability to cry down
my own questions, as if your answers,
down to the most pathetic detail,
were enough to keep me
breathing.

Speak to me, instead, of how you
have never forgotten, if you have them,
and how you’ve learned to fail better.
Give me your ghosts, teach me your fears
until they become my own, and then,
having been so freed, you can
save me
from yourself.

Let us then, in mutual grief,
in the long, long afterwards,
when all our last resorts are, at last, exhausted,
trust each other to death, still,
more so than the conversations we held
each other with,
not even when you were in me,
and I in you,
and if, all things being equal, we don’t annihilate
each other, again, at last,
in other words (always banal in hindsight),
we might just find ourselves, or whatever’s left,
even if only in forgiveness.

Keep smiling,
and don’t speak anymore;
not even your hands,
can call me back to try again,
not even possibility.
Some gifts, like mountains, are just
that much harder to give, that much harder
to climb, the second time
around.

Trust truly is a gift.

I love all you write Red
This one is so moving. Thank you.
I'm going to read it a second and third time.

love this....
simply a beautifully written piece

((((Row))))

You understand. Thank you.

kc, as usual, you inspire.

Ok, apparently this thread it loaded with some very nice work. For the moment I'll just "wow" on the first one. The piece just really draws you along and into it. You have a wonderful way with images.

In humbled hands i thee hold

Beautiful

DaveyB, we have been linked for quite some time, but I do believe this is the first wherein we connected. Words do that. Thank you.

((((LAMom))))

My infinite well of smiles.

you wrote,
and i laughed
tears onto hands that
had never learned
to cup heartache
properly.
gifts there are which
free you;
but yes, there is
a giving that
enslaves.

i fear i cannot tell
you
the truth
of my ignorance.
i have lived
too much
to call myself wise;
learned
too little to trust
myself in your presence
so
to tell you truly that
my warmth means
your safety.

the last pillow-fight
i joined willingly
was a carnal disaster
of premature proportions –
the silence lusted after
articulation
until there was no more
time,
and then drenched
limbs had to leave
even that little epiphany
behind.

i have always
caressed skin better
with whispers breathed
a centimeter away,
or so i would always
tell anybody who cared
to listen.
but my soul, oh my
hungry soul, is as
masochist as the next one,
and i have known
pain
to last until i learned
to define it
no more.

you wrote, and i
laughed tears, because
there is nothing of real
peace in me; not
while my soul lusts, not
while my body longs.
not until my hands can
cup the very tears you
let fall on these
words, so to bring
back to your very lips
the essence of my own
loneliness.

Amazing.


(((((R)))))))

((((((((((T))))))))))

Sighhhhhhhhhhhhhh.... A Renaissance traveler of heart, body, soul and
mind..... Such indepth beauty that flows


I was so hoping you would ramble before i left for the week
Have an amazing holiday season...

Soar Ms Lace

Namaste'

Smiles, bows slightly with hands pressed together, palms touching and fingers pointed upwards, in front of the chest.

Namaste, LAMom. Have a good holiday too.

i was thinking about you the other day
and as suddenly i caught myself smiling
at the thought of your name,
and maybe that’s how we build a faith,
or a trust, or a barnyard full of friends;
by simply believing the best
of those we touch along the day,
or dream along in moonlit nights...

and there the thought fell dead,
leaving future speculation to trace
hindsight, as it ambled along and back
to that particular taste of yesterday,
when the thought of you,
and that unexpected smile,
also brought a different tang to memory;
a different walk along another bay.
and all of this now, and suddenly,
as i’m sitting still, and scrabbling tiles
and letters and words to say,
they all came rushing back;
those songs i never sang, those words
i never let say, those daydreams
that never saw the light of day,
those emotions my heart, my tongue,
had never set free.

and i don’t know, how different
some lives would be,
and mine, and yours,
if i’d be now and still be me,
and know you then as you smile at me,
to tell you then what i want to now…

it’s all foregone, foreclosed; that yesterday.
it’s just us now; my world, and yours,
and what we have, and all we never had,
and history, and everything we still
can’t say...
but i was thinking about you the other day,
and oh, i smiled, as i do, right now,
knowing i have you still, like i never had;
a friend to keep, a soul in need, for company.
and even if you were, you are,
a thousands miles away, and more,
you’re still as near, as dear,
as my own thoughts, and yours, can fly you
close, and closer still.