The Flower

I knew a man, the love was pure,
I was aloud; he was demure,
He thought my love he could not keep,
And sought to test it in my sleep,
He brought me there on morning ire,
An odd request, though not so dire,
He asked that I would keep a flower,
And argued love daren’t last the hour,
He mocked me then, I did not fear,
I cannot lie, true love was near!
So I embarked on this queer quest,
To keep it living, nothing less.

And so I tended ending-less
Was I abreast of garden mess?
I toiled, dallied every day,
And thought the words I could not say,
For in the silence I had met,
A partner worthy of that bet,
That I could keep that thing alive,
Indeed, it was, the flower thrived.

And in his absence I had found,
Resilience in work of ground,
I did not need arbitrary tests,
I do not work in fruitless jests,
If he believed me truly able,
He never ought to make a fable.

He stumbled inside from the rain,
And just his sight, it brought me pain,
He did not care about the spat,
He wanted power, that was that,
I could not help but to believe,
The flower gave me sole reprieve,
He saw the plant, so wild and free,
And likewise never could control me,
I bid him leave, his love was vile,
It filled me then with darkest bile,
He came at me, with tongue of snake,
“Undying life you cannot make”!
I stared at he, then at the flower,
And recognized I had the power,
And though it pains as freedom dies,
I lift the plant towards the skies,
Then threw it down and I now said,
“It’s cracked asunder; love is dead”.

“When I am writing, I am trying to find out who I am.”

A great quote – true of all of us.

The Daily Post

Maya Angelou by Spanglej, CC BY-SA 2.0.Maya Angelou by Spanglej, CC BY-SA 2.0.

Words mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to infuse them with deeper meaning.

Find a beautiful piece of art. If you fall in love with Van Gogh or Matisse or John Oliver Killens, or if you fall love with the music of Coltrane, the music of Aretha Franklin, or the music of Chopin — find some beautiful art and admire it, and realize that it was created by human beings just like you, no more human, no less.

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.

The idea is to write it so that people hear it and it slides through the brain and goes straight to the heart.

When I am writing, I am trying to find out who I am, who we are, what we’re capable of, how…

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A Diary Entry to E.R.S.

“The only way to a woman’s heart is along the path of torment.”– Marquis de Sade

I agree with this quote.

The road to any individual’s heart is a hard, tormented path. Love is often met with hostility – mostly due, in my view, to the fact that we are all so used to being abused in our every day lives. Co-workers, ex-lovers, ex-friends, family members, mothers, fathers, random people on the street – we are not used to the idea of love, and are not often well-versed in the subtle language of expressing our hidden thoughts and desires.

This is why dating is so confusing to most of us – are we showing too much of our neurotic idiosyncrasies, or too little? Do they even want to hear about our thoughts, or are they insignificant? Do I even know how I feel? And the frightful thought – “are my internal thoughts a bar to love?”

And further on the road towards the love of someone – anyone – we will inevitably experience heartache. And it hurts. And it sucks. And we sit in waiting for that one person that will open us up, and nurture for our exposed hearts. Our hearts that have been so beaten down – bruised, battered, broken. Our hearts that are so in need of love – the most potent cure-all.

And even once you get there and obtain the heart of someone you love, the battle doesn’t stop there. Like surgery, healing is an art. It takes time. It takes patience. It is an exercise of love and skill, and inevitably involves combating the demons of the past. Healing the scars of past failures, wounds of current struggles that are still festering on the surface. These will all need to be treated if the opening – the relationship – is to survive and flourish.

In the end, it comes down to sacrifice, to pain, to frustration, to a cost. But the gain – oh the gain. Rewards abound when you mend a tattered heart. Love is eternal. Love conquers all.

And love will win the day.