Feb. 03 - These Are The Things Women Know About Love

That it can come up gently behind
and wrap its arms around you.
Love can surprise and delight,
it can press you up against
a wall in a passionate kiss.
Women also know love can
cause you to weep, its tender
longing nearly impossible to bear.
It can cut open your vulnerable soul
leaving a raw and throbbing pain
at the base of your throat.
Women know love can make you
blush and smile a fool's grin, it can
make you whisper sweet honey
filled words under a summer moon.
But most importantly, what
women know about love is that
it should be nurtured and fed,
allowed to ripen into the soft
bodied fruit that only grows from
the seed of commitment.
It is comfort when passion is
sleeping, it is quiet company
at the end of the day.
Love holds your hand
when you are ill, forgives you
when you forget to stop for milk.
Love touches you softly on your
cheek when you need consoling.
Women know love, true love
never leaves your side.
It grows and changes from
the raging river of desire to
a deep calm you can swim in.

Feb. 01 - Write About A Kiss

artschoollovers by darcyadelaide

The first tender kiss a girl
receives from a boy is
the one she carries with her
the rest of her life,
tucked into a special pocket
of her heart and imprinted with
the last of her childhood innocence.
She remembers the fluttering
inside her body, the rise of
foreign passions,
the look in his eyes before
he bends forward to bring
his lips to hers.
When their lips touch
she feels a pain in her heart
that tells her
she will never be the same.
She closes her eyes and walks
through the doorway of desire,
taking her first step toward womanhood.

Jan. 31 - "The first time I wore ____"

The Meaning of Flowers And The Color of Love

The first time, I wore white, the color of pureness and innocence expected of a new bride. I wore my future mother-in-law's old fashioned dress, though it was too large for my small busted form. No matter how much I stuffed and pinned, I could never fit that dress. The dress was someone else's expectations of me and that will always lead to disappointment.

The second time I searched my closet for the one dress I felt pretty wearing, a simple knee length sun dress that was of no one else's choosing and fit me perfectly. With premonition, as if my soul already feared he would someday leave me to mourn the loss of his love, I wore the color of death and funerals. I wasn't superstitious and I was in love.

I will pay attention to color and fit the third time. I will wear a dress the color of faith and trust. I will carry a bouquet of peonies symbolizing a joyful marriage, violets for faithfulness, and lily of the valley for the return of happiness. I will be superstitious and look for meaning in everything.

Jan. 29 - The End of the Day

In the morning
the demands of the day
pull and stretch
the threads that hold
our family together.

We go our separate ways
dispersing to the east,
the west, and south,  to
our prospective duties
as citizens of this world.

But when the day
is content we've met
our obligations to it,
those threads pull us
back to safety.

For these aren't threads
that imprison us,
but a bond of the heart,
a cozy blanket to wrap
ourselves in at the end of the day.

Jan. 25 - Shadows

It's odd how we fear
something we can run
our fingers through
as easily as the light
that creates it.

Without shadows,
there would be no
depth to our souls,
no place to retreat
from the glaring light.

I will not fear
my shadows, for they
dance with the light
in a beautiful waltz
that is my life.

They are my tears,
moody days, angry words
spoken a little too loudly,
but  without them my smile
would be worth nothing.

Jan. 22 - In the Meantime...

One day
we will dance
in the sunshine,
my hand in yours,
your cheek pressed
softly to mine.

In the meantime
we struggle with
what it means to love
in a tough world
indifferent to our
needs and desires.

Jan. 19 - Remember A Sound

Skokomish, Quinault, Elwha, Dosewallips
water smoothing stone on its journey
from cool glacier to rushing river
glittering with salmon and trout,
you sing softly to me even now
in this place of heat and drought.

Sweet mountain music,
I long to quench my dry lips
baptize my soul in the depths
of your calming lullaby, to fill
my lungs with pine scented air.
Oh, how I miss your soothing tune.

Sing me to sleep tonight and
wash away my longing.

Jan. 18 - It was Noon and Nothing Is Concluced

The problem is
trying to see where that
next step will take her.
She moves through
the mid-day of her life
with caution,
tiptoeing between hours
knowing time is fragile
and her heart vulnerable.
She is quick to love,
too easy to forgive.
Perhaps a weakness,
but it is also her beauty.
She walks
through the high noon
of time's brutal passing
with nothing concluded and
much to gain or lose.
She must be careful and deliberate,
holding all the possibilities like
young doves in her palms,
knowing they could fly away
at a moment's notice
startled by the choices
others in her life could make.
Half her life gone, half
an uncharted map before her.
She wants to get it right,
to avoid a pile of what-could-have-been's
at the end of the road.
She wants to love freely
and be loved in return.
She wants fairness and justice,
to view with wide open eyes
the beauty of her world,
but most of all,
she wants to get it right.

Jan. 15 - It's Saturday Afternoon. You're Not At Home

My favorite Saturday afternoons,
sunny spring days
downtown or at the river
over a cup of coffee
hot dogs on the grill
cruising down the road
to a million other places
I've went with you,
All the times
I've spent with you.
Daydreams,
nothing more than daydreams
fading like mist on the river
on Saturday afternoon.

Jan. 13 - After Midnight

In the middle of the night
past the crickets last chirp
among the sweet scented pine
and gurlgling mountain streams
you will find true peace.

Still your busy mind
and listen, just listen
to the sound of owl wings
beating to the rhythm of your heart.
You will hear beauty.

Close your eyes and
feel the gentle night wind
playfully circle around you,
a wild cat, invisible, invincible.
You will know freedom.

Breath deeply of the night,
crisp apple and earthy soil
full of vibrant life.
Bite into it and feast.
You will know longing.

Lay in the dewey meadow
where young deer graze,
feel that gentle nudge in your heart
when a star burns through the sky.
You will know love.

Jan. 12 - Write About Acceptable Losses

Haiku #1

Our dear family
a treasure to behold.
You throw it away.

Haiku #2

There is no such thing
as acceptable losses
with a broken heart.

Haiku #3

One foot in, one out
the doorway of indecision.
you break my heart daily.

Haiku #4

I sacrificed
my delicate heart for you.
you leave anyway.

Haiku #5

In both love and war
some things are worth fighting for,
some things worth dying.

Jan. 09 - Write About A Ceremony

Do
you
remember
the day
we married?

The
beautiful
simplicity
of it.

Little
Quaker
meeting house
in the woods.

Me,
sleeveless
summer dress,
wildflower bouquet.

You,
handsome
in your
standard black shirt.

Joy
to this
perfect start
as husband and wife.

Even
the sun
shined
brightly for us,

Though
thunderstorms
threatened
all around.

Unknown
to anyone
our son was
with us that day.

Tiny
speck
of DNA
formed from our love.

He
was there
when we
declared our union.

Did
you
think about
that little miracle?

Our
world
was whole
because he was there.

We
didn't know
how truly
blessed we were.

How
truly blessed
we still are
in this moment.

Do
you
remember
the day
we married?

Do
you
remember
the joy
in our hearts?

I
do.

Jan. 07 - Once, When No One Was Looking...

One dark night
under a scattering of stars
a lone figure dances.

Free from the watch
of sharp, critical eyes
she twirls and high steps.

Her bare toes
sink into the soft grass
and her spirit soars.

For one moment
She is good enough,
she is beautiful enough.

The cool wind
lightly caresses her,
a silent partner.

She spins,
spins and laughs,
falls gently onto the grass.

Jan. 05 - Write About a Day Moon

The day moon beckons me home
through late afternoon traffic,
its pale form a lovely reminder
of life's delicate tenure.

As I journey past coffee shops
and generic shopping centers
I wonder, has anyone else gazed
upwards toward her celestial form?

It always amazes me how
much goes unobserved
in this busy, churning world
we have created for ourselves.

What could be more important
than taking notice of this pearlescent orb
showing her day face, more important
than taking notice of beauty.

The day moon whispers to me
to slow down and enjoy
this moment now before me -
even though I sit in traffic.

Even though I sit in traffic
this moment is my reality,
this moment is all I have, held
in my palms like a delicate orb.

Jan. 01 - Write About Sunday Afternoon

The clock slows down
its insistent ticking
replaced by the clamor
of pots and pans.

Sunday afternoons,
lemon scented and floured,
shine through kitchen windows
warm with the heat of love.

The magnetic pull of
an oven baking fresh scones
is inescapable to
even the most discernible noses.

Kitchen time is family time,
the hub, the heartbeat
of our cozy, crazy home
on Sunday afternoons.