Tag: Love

Sensitivity

~ TiffanyCreek ~ Leave a comment

“Anybody can look at a pretty girl and see a pretty girl. An artist can look at a pretty girl and see the old woman she will become. A better artist can look at an old woman and see the pretty girl that she used to be. But a great artist-a master-and that is what Auguste Rodin was-can look at an old woman, protray her exactly as she is…and force the viewer to see the pretty girl she used to be…and more than that, he can make anyone with the sensitivity of an armadillo, or even you, see that this lovely young girl is still alive, not old and ugly at all, but simply prisoned inside her ruined body. He can make you feel the quiet, endless tragedy that there was never a girl born who ever grew older than eighteen in her heart…no matter what the merciless hours have done to her.”
― Robert Heinlein

Luna

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DSC_1592-1
Luna, at the Sea

Made a journey down a winding road, to see an old friend, and a dog named Luna.  Near the ocean we stayed, watching the waves, come and go.

On the morning walk with the dogs at the beach, the tilting fence glistened in the sun, with sand at her feet, and budding rose bushes of the dunes scattered round.

Time was approaching the hustle and bustle of beachgoers.

The afternoon sun beat down, where the children frolicked at the shore, with mother and father at their sides.  They built castles in the sand, unfettered by the rough play of canines of the early morn.

What was Luna thinking, as she lay at home?

Luna spent the day, dreaming of her four legged friends, from whom she would steal balls and sticks, and of how they rolled raucously in the sand.

Then a swim!

Daybreak returned and Mother Nature called Luna back out to play.  Alone she could not go, so she got up and wagged her tail, and sniffed and licked the sleepy face of my friend, to start another day, all over again.

Cindy

~ TiffanyCreek ~ Leave a comment

Always had a smile,

My very best friend,

A little older,

At times, my mother hen.

You gave me a name,

I still keep today,

You were the one,

with whom I wanted to play.

But now, like then,

We have to part ways.

 

Others frowned at our friendship,

But little did they know,

You and I lived like sisters

Through our fun, and our woes.

Under the falling stars,

Those warm summer nights,

Blessed Mary, the only witness

of our dreams, to unfold.

 

Yes!  Young, you have gone;

But you got your wishes, too,

With your horses, and children, and husband.

Their love is true.

Go peacefully,

knowing, I loved you, as well,

and in my heart,

our memory dwells.

For if not, pray tell;

What is the meaning of life?

Your friend,

Greta

TiffanyCreek

 

Marsha

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Between light and shadow.
Between light and shadow.

Your green eyes

with golden sparkles

glisten like diamonds

In the sky.

Your vulnerable soul stands

Between light and sombra

As sun shines through

The panes of glass,

behind which you stand…

Waiting for luck to come…

A prince from the Russian forest

Maybe…

Bearing the gift of love,

to fix your broken heart.

Yet,

the fat scowling man,

Shirtless at the top of the stairs,

Peers downward to the street, blowing toxic smoke

At us, in a sinister way…

Makes me afraid for you.

I want you to be safe;

And to know I love you.

TiffanyCreek

POSSESSIVE LOVE by Arto Melleri

~ TiffanyCreek ~ 2 Comments

Possessive love arrives, it locks the door behind it and settles in forever, always predictable.

Love arrives, it leaves its luggage by the door, in case worse comes to worst, but it still undresses.

Passion arrives, first it lights a hundred candles, then pulls the door off its hinges and breaks the windows. Leaves everything, everything to the care of the wind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arto Melleri 1956-2005, Finnish poet and writer.