For A Longer While

Me, Myself, I... and, of course, You

___________________________________________________

Yes... Do keep saying

Those sweet words.

Approach my ear,

Keep repeating how

Much you love me.

Keep telling me

Your life has tilted

Because of me.

Your heart in my hands

Ever since you met

The woman in me...

Keep telling me

How badly you desire

To taste every single part

Of my body and mind,

It tickles so gently...

Keep whispering

While am about

To come…

Though I will not,

For I want you to

Keep telling me,

Secretly,

How deeply you crave

For my caress.

And I grow wiser,

And that veneration

Makes this goddess

Preen herself...

Yes... Keep praising me,

Keep loving me,

For a longer while.

_____________________________________________________________

© Dulce

Thank Goddess (II)

For Shay and all the support and inspiration she has brought to me...
.
She approaches the light
Searching for her advice…
Artemis asks,
‘Why have you come
here tonight?’
‘I see this is the right way
To pray…’

‘So is your place!’
‘I’ve come to complain…’
‘You fool, what about?
You enjoy summer strokes
On average each other day
What else is best to praise?

You enjoy your child’s smiles
Every single day
And in joy see him grow
What else can you ask for?

You can feel grief
As well as inner peace
Every time you wish
You have all the tools you need
To do so- feel relief
What else can you plead?

You are free
To choose what to undertake
Can come, go, leave
Spend as well as waste
Both money and time
Why do you decline?

Got actual friends
Here, there, everywhere
To support you
When you are in need
And despair…
There’s always a cat
Whose under chin
You can scratch

Dear, if
As you know,
Those butterflies
Are not in your stomach
But in your heart,
What are you here to ask?

Sorry- tell me again…
What was your complaint?’
_________________________________________________________________

© Dulce

Thank Goddess (I)

In an attempt to find

A way with silence

She hides from the others

And walks away

No direction

Nor intention

Finding in her path

A little transparent

Almost magical stream

Her feet longed

To get in

As she did

The coldness felt

As the best of gifts

Lies back and listens…

The sparrows

The running water

And the breeze

Inviting her to go

And meet

The goddess within.

_____________________________________________________________Camille Pissarro

(C) Dulce

Impressionists (4)
Camille Pissarro (1830-1903) was a key member of the French Impressionist group of painters. Born in St. Thomas in the West Indies, where his father was a prosperous merchant. Pissarro received his early education at a boarding school near Paris.
Pissarro settled in France 1855. He arrived in time to see the great Exposition Universelle (World's Fair) which included a large art section. Following the advice of Corot, whose landscapes he had admired at the fair, Pissarro was soon painting and sketching in small towns and villages near Paris, along the Seine, Oise and Marne rivers. He formed friendships with Paul Cézanne, Claude Monet, and other future members of the Impressionist group. . . (read more)

Ridiculous (55)

Two friends

In their forties

having coffee

Outside a bar.

‘I’m fed up with men

Nobody loves me…’

The man in the photo

Passing by…

‘Wow! Gorgeous one!’

‘Not my type

I like them rather skinny…

Anyway,

To hell with them all!’

He winks at her…

…Oops!

Her coffee all spilled

On her white dress.

____________________________________________________________________

© Dulce.....................................................................................Man in photo: Erik Elías

Friday 55 Flash Fiction is brought to you by G-Man ( Mr Knowitall)> The idea is you write a story in exactly 55 words. If you want to take part pop over and let G-man know when you've posted your 55.

Permission

So much she desired
So little acquired.

He brought that quietude
To her strayed soul
He gave that hope
To her grievous heart
Gossiping girls
Giggling and all that
You see?
I’ve found the one
No need to look for him
Among the vultures!

A sunny bright morning
That little by little
Permission was given
To both soul and heart
To live the greatest experience
Of her existence

That little by little
Permission was given
To dream as long as she liked
Immersed in the world
Of the princess finding
Her Charming Prince
At long last

That little by little
Permission was given
To be her guiding knight
And follow him till
The ends of time
Prepared her room
To be shared with him
Lighted red candles
Prayed all saints and Lord
That the dream came true

That little by little
Permission was given
To ask fortune tellers
Who assured
He was in her hands
So she gave permission
To herself to go and ask.

Permission rejected.
Her soul, her heart
Her hope, her pride
Humiliated.

So much she desired
So little acquired.
________________________________________________________________
Dulce
Image by Deviantart

FED UP

Crying, dying

Sighing, trying...

Gone to the other side

Of the moon, in darkness.

Hiding from what

I always

Took for granted.

Do not send me flowers

They won’t be appreciated.

Hiding by this

Dark side of the moon

The only light

My sweet dreams

And hopes

Burning in a bonfire.

Won’t dance to it.

Do not send me no flowers

Do not tell me

To hold on to God.

I am right here

Behind that moon

You observe.

Do not expect me

To behave myself

To write joyfully.

I am counting

All my failures and discontents.

Don’t send me no flowers,

Please.

Do not think

I take any delight in this

Or feel self compassion.

I am not drunk

Nor sober

Nor depressed.

Infuriated

In the warpath…yes.

Not worth, though

Planning a revenge…

That would lead me to

The same place again.

On this dark side of the moon

These days

I’ll be here

To stay.

..........................................................................................................................................................

© Dulce

Image: Deviantart

Anyway The Wind Blows

As we start

This endless task

Exhausting results

We’ll get

At long last

We’ll depart

And again

Will look forward not

To finishing

But achieving the encounter

As if nothing actually

Had happened

Between you and I

Everything deleted

By the wind gusts

The wasted time

If only this

Had never ever occurred

At least we’d have

The memory of a job

Well done

But your feet

Have walked

Such long distances

So far away from mine

You got mad

I became crazy

If you ever

Get to touch

The feeling again

Will you let me know?

If I stop remembering

Will you let myself grow?

___________________________________________________________________

© Dulce

SINFUL

Doing wrong is human
As is weeping
Laughing
Sleeping

Doing wrong is human
We do it every single day
As it dawns
As it dusks
As it gets, yet darker

Doing wrong is so human
As humans
We treasure and adore
We detest and loathe
We commit ourselves
To others
Then deceive them

By trying not to do so
We do worse
In a world full of humans
Who go wrong
We find each other
Come across one another
Mix with others…
Not even God is perfect
Why should I?

Thus, there’s nothing
To forgive
No one to blame
As typical of humans is
To fail
Go astray
Make mistakes...

© Dulce
Image:: I See Empty People by Liek (Deviantart)

FEEDBACK

Last Saturday I posted some pics of a small part of my house and got astonished at how successful they were among my friends. Never before had I got 16 comments on a Saturday! Those photos are special to me but, so normal and bare!? Taken with my mobile! Yet, thank you so much for those beautiful comments. You people are great.

My fave of the week was AGE VISION, which came up just by saying to myself “The old man…” I loved so much your comments on it. Wow!

On the right you can see some pictures of the actual house I wrote SOLITARY “for”. It’s a very decrepit old house which has attracted my attention ever since I was a child, for its solitude and beautiful surroundings. Lucky me I can go and visit it whenever I want- every time I go for a walk near my house (less than a mile away…) Again photos taken with my super mobile!

BUBBLES I wrote thinking about you my friends, because of that LOVE which has actually grown between you and I… It’s like bubbles, subtly tangible. Some of you are really special to me (you know who YOU are, so no need to mention). Except for the one living at the bottom of my nearest continent- most of you are on the other side of the Atlantic… (I haven’t forgotten the English or the Australians, right?…)

FUNNY DATE I wrote mainly because I am so fed up with my not getting a date these days… and especially because this week, in class with some of my students- we’ve been reading about Speed Dating. And I thought…well, in my case it’s “Self- Dating”, and that poem was born…

On Thursday I took a rest and yesterday I had no idea what to write in 55 words- I always like it to be fun and at the same time thought provoking. Although I’ve been to therapy a couple of times, these true dreams I’ve interpreted myself… for something I’ve got to know about this one I live within…

Again I’ve loved the comments, especially those of Shay… So that’s why I’m also posting a poem today!

This goes to my special blog-friends who, for different reasons, seem to be openly concerned about Death. Curiously their names all start with ‘S’…

UNTITLED

Are you afraid?

That’s typical, so pray

Where do they go

After passing away?

Do they fly

Do they get any sleep?

Or is it all they do?

Are they near here?

Gone with God?

Or are they themselves

Gods and Goddesses?

Are they cold, depressed?

Or are they so happy

That just can’t say?

Are they old or young?

Whatever they do

Wherever they are

No answer I get

Yet, my sixth sense

Keeps telling me

That must be a nice place

Where no-one ever rests…

_________________________________

©Dulce

PSYCHOTHERAPY (55)

‘Right, tell me about your dreams.’
‘I usually dream
A huge wave is coming towards me,
But I go and manage
To dive through to it…’
‘Good-
That means you face adversities…’
‘Last night I dreamt
A lion was following me,
I panicked,
Couldn’t escape,
Couldn’t move,
I was terrified.’
‘Bad –
That lion is yourself.’
__________________________________

© Dulce