Meatball and I are grateful for your kind wishes. I am feeling so hopeful now that he came home and gave me his special little gift. Nerve damage was the concern, but I think that proved that he has a really good chance now!
At this point, we just have to take the time we need and rehab all up.
I always knew I loved this guy, but I didn't realize that he also makes me feel safe, just having him in the house and in my room at night while I sleep. We've been out in the garden for a few hours now. I just know the fresh air and breeze will be restorative. I'm looking forward to lots more years with him by my side.
I'm glad your puppy is home with you.
I am so glad he is feeling better. My heart sunk like a stone when you said he had been hit. I hope his recovery is fast, his scars are small and his attitude is quite unchanged:)
Strange as it sounds. such total glee for puppy pee. Home, heart, Haines and a little sugar will do the rest.
Yeah the pup is home!! Sometimes we take for granted just how much we become dependant upon those little furballs.
*hugs to you* I am sure you have had a hard times these last few weeks so I just wish I could give you a real hug. Blessings to you both.
..so pleased, for you.
Me, reading "That There Could Be Such Eyes" Click the link to hear. Words are printed in the entry below.
It's amazing just hearing it spoken the way it should be... the way you meant it to be read.
You are amazing, if you were the 'standard', I would stop writing and just read....or listen.
I'm trying so hard not to comment on your voice ...lol
Wow I loved it....really brought it to life x
..words of exquisite longing, beautifully spoken.
..said, with a great deal of feeling.
..I do like the sound of your melifluous tones.
I could listen to your voice all day. You could read the phonebook out loud and captivate me.
I am dialup, first of all. So I rarely watch youtube, or listen to any streams. When I download, it's usually not until nightfall when I know I won't normally have use of the phone.
That being said, I listened to this.
I am so glad that I did.
Your voice holds alchemy and river waters in it's tone, and you bring out even more of the wistful yearning that seems to cradle your words.
Thank you for sharing this.
I came back to close my eyes and listen ... again.
You have a way with words I could only hope to come close to some day....
..words of exquisite longing.
This is nearly tangible, this writing, as though I could reach out and brush my fingers against these thoughts. I imagine it would feel like the breath of a lover against my neck in the earliest part of morning.
you write very beautiful word m'lady. . .im not knowledgable in poetry more than just simple rhymes but the couple ive read sofar are very good to me!
That was beautiful. I got so very many different images from it.
Wow.As always,I am speechless.
Of all the creative things that I do or have done... Poetry, is one that escapes me.
I do love this, and I can barely wait until you read it to me. In my head, I always rush your words, with your voice being so soft and knowing the timing of your own works so well, I always am surprised by how much life you breathe into them.
This is truly captivating. Your imagery is amazing and I can really feel this poem.
''Over-torqued parts of me''
omg ... and you got it all to work.
..wow! Your uses of words far surpasses mine 'Teach.' Beatifully phrased, as ever.
Just a re-visit.
You know, everytime I come back and read your work I see a passage or a phrase that I interpret differently and the whole aspect just shines as if it were written anew.
I could lose myself in your pages .... I often do.
"You, my last glimpse of life
Misted in a gold I never divined."
You evoke so much emotion from me, words really do fail me.
The sun is setting on me and my garden. The birds are fewer, singing in the far away. It is time for the cicadas to raise their songs and the lonely chirrup of Louisiana frogs accompany. With Vespers' images in my head, her words swimming through my veins and oxygenating my soul, I feel whole and vulnerable. I feel what it is to be female and seduced by all that is World and Heart.
I feel Morrigon out there, my mother, VW, Irony, Silverbow, Requiem, Moony, Images, Seven and Meeper. I feel my sister's integrity as she will die with the secrets I have wept into her. I feel my daughters as they grow and step away from the mother arms that fight to hold them still. I feel my grandmothers reaching back for me, soft old fingers stroking my hair again.
Grateful. Grateful. I am so grateful for what it is to be woman. We are the color within petals and
the shape of love within a stern reply. We are the smell of warm still-soft cookies on a cold night.
I love your souls, beautiful beautiful women who are not afraid to love each other. I sometimes need your arms beneath me to hold me up. I believe in your strength and wrap it round me, a boa to dance with when I make silly faces in the mirror and a favorite shawl, reassuring through the years we will love one another.
As you exhale these words, we breathe them in.
Thank you, for honoring me here.
I can see you dancing, and it brings a smile.
And to think you are dancing on the same side of the lake as I am :) If you throw the end of the boa... I just might be able to catch it from here :)
Arms reaching like impossibly long branches into the atmosphere capture stars and love and all that exists inbetween. You do this with your words.
You already know how much I love this. I have a slightly damp tissue and red eyes even now. I love you:)
It was so awesome to read it to you as I was writing it, Irony. Thank you for sharing the special moments of my life with me. I love you.
So where is the beautiful tale of love for the assholes who bear pointy bit genitals in your life? We, boys, who fill your nights with the delicious agony of your scrabble. We, men, who weep tears of blood as your literary prowess forcefully penetrates us, without lube. We, dudes, who speak in creepy voices that make your epidermis attempt an exit, stage left. Who writes the hymns to us?
I had the experience earlier this year of being held up by a blanket woven of years of female experience; seamed with hard lessons and soft voices. At a point that I felt so low and vulnerable, and could finally voice it, I was immediately embraced by a circle of women that have always watched over me from a distance. The best things in women help me to remember the smell of dogwood blossoms and the summers of my later childhood. The grace of a woman's pure love is a hard thing to capture with a word and yet, in itself, is never elusive.
Dearest Earth Bound Angel your words lift up my soul and bring the shimmer of tears to my eyes. You are a precious friend and soul that I am honored to have bless my life. Thank you for your words. You are one of the dearest and truest friends I have. Thank you for being you.
Yes, there is nothing to compare with feeling our place in creation x
This is ... thank you. *wipes a tear away*
I can never walk away from your journal Joli without being humbled.
I want what I have never had.
I miss what I have never known.
I grieve what I have never lost.
What are you doing now, this very second?
I have thought you too much,
Thinking you away -
My constant thinking,
Keeping even my own thoughts at bay.
What is it to know the smell of your hair?
I weep what I have never had.
I stall what I have never known.
I ignore what I have never lost.
Will any thief ever rob me of more than I steal from myself?