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My Lasting MemoriesThere are many and I will write them as they come to my mind.
Stepping on British soil next to John, very much in love.
Strolling and discovering his town hand in hand , beautiful Shrewsbury,
birthplace of Charles Darwin.
Walking to corners that he had never stopped to look before
and cycling among the groves of cedars, oaks, limes and weeping willows.
Walking barefooted on the English turf in the Quarry,
those 29 acres of green where originally
the stone was obtained to build houses.
Dazzled by the striking colour of flowers everywhere
the delicately manicured gardens of the Dingle.
And the Severn River ... the longest river in Great Britain,
historic bridges, arches, iron,
buildings and stories of war and depression
and flourish and progress.
The boat ride from Victoria Quay on the ferry Sabrina,
a mermaid who drowned in the river, according to the myth.
And the ducks and swans.
The car rides through the English countryside
towards Newport and Hereford and Worcester
to meet daughters
Look" And you, who is going to look at you! "
And someone looked at me,
someone saw me from afar .
Perhaps in a picture of me,
he contemplated my bare soul ,
and in need of love.
Maybe he peeked through my eyes
and he was caught
Perhaps he let himself be entangled in my hair
and seduced by my words.
" And you, who is going to look at you! "
That phrase I can not forget.
And someone looked at me.
The first time he saw me
it was from a distance.
Then there was a call
and my voice captivated him .
And he came.
He travelled many miles
to take a better look at me ...
And it was then
he could not stop looking at me,
and he came back,
and he always returns.
And he looks at me with eyes of the one that looks beyond ...
and sees perfection in the imperfection,
beauty and sensitivity,
virtues over defects.
At some point I was led to believe
no one could look at me as a woman ...
He who looks at me now,
not only sees me as a woman.
He imagines a princess, a doll,
a being of light,
25th January 2014I have turned 48.
I look back
and I see that I've had a good life
and now I feel
The difficulties were overcome ,
and I moved on .
And here I am now
I always had confidence in myself
I always knew what I wanted to do
I always followed my intuition,
And if ever there were tears
I erased them with new happiness .
At some point I was on the edge of an abyss
and had to decide
And I flew .
And from above I saw how darkness dissipated ,
and I saw that there were still flowers in my green fields .
and that there was a sun and a new moon
and four beautiful stars that guided me ...
and four beautiful clouds which sheltered me ...
and four beautiful melodies that lulled me ...
I found a great heart that opened its doors to me
and two strong arms that wanted to take care of me.
I am 48
but I do not feel old,
I feel reborn.
I'm living life
with a new intensity,
and the smile
does want not to leave my face!
25 de enero 2014.
He cumplido 48 años.
Miro hacia atrás
y veo que he tenido una buena vida
y ahora me siento
Las dificultades fueron superadas,
y seguí adelante.
Y aquí estoy ahora
Siempre tuve confianza en mi misma
siempre supe lo que quería hacer
siempre hice lo que me dictó mi intuición,
Y si hubo lágrimas alguna vez
las borré con felicidades nuevas.
En algún momento estuve al borde de un abismo
y tuve que decidir
Y desde lo alto ví como la oscuridad se disipaba,
y ví que aún había flores en los verdes campos.
y había un sol y una luna nueva
y cuatro hermosas estrellas que me guiaban...
y cuatro hermosas nubes que me cobijaban...
y cuatro hermosas melodías que me arrullaban...
Encontré un gran corazón que me abría sus puertas
y dos fuertes brazos que querían cuidarme.
Cumplo 48 años
CicatrizLa cicatriz en tu frente es
la profunda marca de nuestro amor profundo.
Cuando te miro
recuerdo que vos estás aquí por mí,
que has viajado miles de kilómetros
para estar conmigo.
Veo en tu cara
los muchos momentos de alegría que compartimos,
la manera en que descubrimos el amor de nuevo,
la diversión que hemos tenido,
y las lágrimas que derramamos cada vez que tenemos que separarnos
El corte en tu piel
por momentos corta mi corazón
y sangra mi culpa.
El golpe en tu cabeza
todavía me estremece por dentro.
Cada uno de los muchos puntos que tuviste
también traspasaron mi piel.
y recuerdo aquellas primeras noches a tu lado en el hospital,
cuidandote como una madre cuida a su niño enfermo
y llorando como lo hace una madre
cuando ve a su hijo sufrir.
Esta herida que que lastimó tu cuerpo...
en un momento pensé que podías estar muriendo, ,
siempre va a sangrar dentro mio
ScarredThe scar on your forehead is
the deep mark of our deep love.
I see you
and I am reminded that
you are here because of me,
that you travelled thousands of miles
to be with me.
I see on your face
the many moments of joy we shared,
the way we discovered love again,
the fun we have had all this time
and the tears we shed every time we have to part.
The cut on your skin
at times cuts through my heart
and my guilt bleeds.
Each of the twenty something stitches you had
pierced me sharply.
The blow on your head
still shakes inside me.
I see you
and I remember those nights by your side in hospital
watching over you
as a mother watches over a sick child,
crying as a mother cries
when she sees her child suffer.
And the many nights now when I try to stay awake
to be with you when you wake up out of discomfort and pain.
That wound that hurt your body
will always bleed inside me
will always be a reminder of that test of life.
Now I see you,
and it is all healing,
There is a before and after
and our l
Your FallI saw you fall,
in slow motion.
It was an instant ,
I wanted to help you but I could not ...
And I saw you fall and hit
and hurt yourself.
I still see you when I close my eyes ...
Now I know in an instant
happiness is tinged with red,
with despair .
I still see you in my arms, ,
your head in my hands
and I hear my own screams ...
"This can not be happening, "
but it was happening.
And I had to have the courage to face it
and the strength to help you
I talked to you,
I said your name
and you looked at me ...
I asked you not to leave me,
I asked you to stay with me .
And I shouted so hard,
from my heart, with my soul, no tears,
crying would have torn me apart.
I thought we were alone,
I thought it was the end. .
I was very afraid .
Then help arrived ,
and they rescued you and they supported me .
But then there was a long wait of uncertainty. ,
I needed to know if you were alive ...
I needed to see you, to touch you.
And I cried on shoulders unknown
And I thought what I'd d
When you lose a best friendWhen we said friends forever and
crossed pinkies like grade-schoolers,
I could only believe those words
lodged in your heart
like they did mine
because every time I think back
I can't help but remember the
under star lit constellations,
and study sessions where we
learned more about each other
than we did Biology
but now it's clear
that each beat of your heart
has made those words fade,
and you could care less
about crossed pinkies
but I'll still see you,
and hear your voice
and I'll still wish
the meaning hadn't changed-
At peace within this tranquil garden,
I picture the moments where I've made you smile.
Those times are endlessly precious to me,
I think they're worth the while.
They're worth the time I've spent with you,
Even if it wasn't long.
I only wish I'd spent a little more,
Before our love was gone.
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
She's an artistShe's an artist.
Always seems to be daydreaming,
She draws to escape her pain.
Cause for a single moment,
When her work is done.
It seems like there is no more rain.
And she could finally touch the sun.
The one that shines so brightly in her paintings.
But then it's gone,
So she keeps drawing,
She's become good at escaping.
Running from reality.
Because dreams are the only things she wants,
Her imagination is the only thing she's ever known.
And it's sad really...
Because she tries so hard to be happy.
But the most beautiful thing she could ever create.
Was that smile upon her face,
And that is the one thing that remains blank.
Waiting to someday be something more than,
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
Still HereSuicide is a
Thought that frequently lurks
In my mind, wich
Lets it overcome the
Laughter and happiness
Here I still fight, however
Enduring this sad life
Reviving my hopes
Embracing the gift of life
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
smotherher spine was dusk
and unmade nests,
but he tried to live there
he was neither nocturnal
nor a dawn-believer,
so he suffocated
in the birdhouse of her ribs.
between my vertebrae, you are (cemeterial)oh, these writers never speak; they
claw words out of bird carcasses,
poets pecking viscera like necropolitans.
they count their ribs to remind you
of a corpse or of a matchstick. dry bones
between fissured wrists & funeral pyres,
these have been dying days &
they're all mortuaries.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More