Poems ~ Stories ~ Thoughts ~ Compositions
Maybe some were misunderstanding
Maybe some: due to life,
some, burst of the moment
some others, stubborn power display
some, sheer indifference
some, personal issues,
some to display a power position
all of them clashed with LOVE though
slowly causing scars
slowly eroding
none of them by itself wanting to harm
none of them, from each side
all of them small, but summing up
none of them
yet …
Sometimes a Woman might like to feel desired. By her beloved, by the one to whom she gifted her heart and her whole self. Not because she her love depends on gratification, not because all she does needs to be reciprocated. No, for none of those reasons. Yet, she might like it. She might end up wondering what is it to be desired the way she desire. She might wonder what does it feel to be desired so violently that her partner can’t hold saying it, screaming it. She might wonder what would it be to have her lover stare at her with devouring desire and hear that she would seriously wish to make wild love to her 7 ways through Sunday and then again, for another week, and another and another. Unafraid and savagely not resisting to say it over and over.
Sometimes a Woman might enjoy it, or wonder why not, why not her, why she’s simply calmly reassured it is all ok, whenever she tries to ignite passion.
Her need to give love won’t change, but she might wonder.
If we look at things, wanting to find something bad, or wrong, in them we will always find some nuance that will appear bad, or can be seen as “wrong”.
If we look at the same with a positive attitude, we will always find in them something positive, something to praise, rays of light to dance about.
Unless it is something like “an equation”, we always see things through the lens of our heart. Even that case however, sometimes and to some extent, is subject to the same above rules..
I had a cappuccino this morning.
Our country is in a lockdown state, due to Covid restrictions, so you cannot go and consume anything inside the public places, there is not such option, only take away.
So I had a cappuccino, a croissant and I moved out the café. I sat on a cement bench, in the nearby garden, to take a moment, consume my coffee, and allow myself some personal time, before heading to work. I sat there, posed the coffee on the cement surface, and looking around I noticed the garden, I added a little bit of sugar, then I unfolded the croissant. I spotted two little sparrows in the bush, they peeked out.
The simple sight of them was joy, they simply made me crack a little smile. I couldn’t resist, I picked sat the cappuccino down and picked a crumble, bent forward while still sitting there cross legged and tried to invite them closer with little kisses. They were scared, they looked scared but curious.
Isn’t nature beautiful?
I tried to speak to them with my mind. Aren’t we silly ? I did that without even noticing, or thinking about the sense of doing such thing. But I did it, I wanted to talk to them. We do that all the time, I think we do that all the time, silly, or maybe magical.
I gently dropped the crumb, in their direction. I got lucky, it landed close. The gesture scared them, but only a little. They came back, the bolder one, the other one kept leaping behind. The bolder one picked it and flew a couple of meters away, they shared it.
I almost had tears. As soon as it happened I looked forward to do it again. I did it again, it all happened again, with little variations on the theme. I needed to have a better crumb, and I wished the shy one to pick one.
I could write about it a lot. Something so simple, yet so beautiful.
Do people see such beauties? They certainly do, it is impossible not to see it.
Two little sparrows, the most common of the bird, they live too though.
Maybe they are jumping around now, happy, the bold and the shy.
Tears.
life is beautiful.
sometimes we feel like we want to quit it, switch ourselves off, yet life is beautiful.
❤️
Sometimes strength and love is expressed at their peak, when we say
“Please” or “Sorry” or “I’m Lost”
when we ask for help, when we apologise, when we let it flood we openly speak we say we need help.
To do that is love, to me it is.
I want to think everyone can do mistakes.
I want to think that when someone does the very best, respectfully, with love, passion and dedication, errors may come, adjustments might be needed to make things work, but errors are possible.
I love the idea we live in a world where we are not paralysed by the fear of mistaking, and where we help each other to achieve the best, for everyone even by stepping back if needed, but with joy for mutual growth of us all.
Mistaking is human, and as for me, I think that recognising asking the help of others, that is strength, not weakness, maybe one of the highest forms of strength. I can be a strong woman, in fact strong enough to ask for help when I need it, defend my positions, and intentions, and go through them, and even apologise when needed.
Reflections over the things of Life
I like when I find bookmarks in my books, they are like timestoppers. When we place them we do it to mark a place, yet, we are doing more, and this extra is something elusive, at the moment, but powerful.
By marking a place, we actually mark the time too. We put a mark on the time in which we marked the place, and the two are inseparable, they are linked together.
So when we find one of such objects, say a bookmark within the pages of a novel we read when we were young, they can perform this magic, they do take us back.
They do it to me, at least. The cute dried lavender flower inside the page of the poetry book I opened this weekend was like teleporters taking me back in time.
Every time I find one such things in the books my mind can’t help going back to the moment I placed it, the moment I read that book, the moment I bought it, or the feelings I got when reading it. Memories that can be anything: the excitement, the dress I was wearing, thoughts of me in my room, the vision of myself reading in summer, by the sea, and on, and on, and on.
Magic, magic all around us
Small Gems.
If you ask about how it feels, to be a Volcano, I know it.
Alas, did you ever ask yourself about it?
Are they happy when they break the crust and sprinkle all they got?
Or maybe they are angry?
Is it tears that they scream out of their burning head?
Is it passion?
How much did it take for all of it to come out? Was she suffering all of the time? In silence?
Was she ranting? Maybe she tried to channel it out in other ways, where? Did she succeeded in doing so?
It can take ages for a Volcano to finally come out, days, weeks, months, ages. It mounted up slowly, and most of the times Volcanoes do not end up being Volcanoes. They fade before, but when they do, is that an happier ending?
Volcanoes do shape the world, they create conditions for life, they modify the athmosphere, bring out life and feed the ground with novelty, renewed energy and soil for the new.
Volcanoes,
beautiful beasts,
beautiful Volcanoes,
Your energy is holy.
You are a metaphor,
a metaphor of the soul,
something to learn from.
Holy Volcanoes.
One heart is not connected to another through harmony alone.
They are, instead, linked deeply through their wounds too.
Pain linked to pain, fragility to fragility.
There is no silence without a cry of grief,
no forgiveness without bloodshed,
no acceptance without a passage through acute loss.
That is what lies under the ground
at the root of true harmony.
Awareness, overcoming, bonding.
My mind, my heart, all they feel,
Her heart, Her pain, Her joy.
A single water drop holding it all,
in its transparent globe
When I love, when I care, when someone is in my heart I am curious, I get curious, I am both constantly thirsty and peacefully confident.
I am curious about her, about anything hers, just anything.
Her morning breath, her dreams, her thoughts, anything she does, her pains, sorrows, smiles, boring routine. Before anyone else’s activity my heart is curious about hers, naturally before.
It is not restlessness it is rather thirst, thirst for something whose mere existence is, in whatever way, enough to quench this thirst, and trigger more, more passion, love, nearness, joy. Just the thought of it all suffices, but the thirst exists. I am not lost if I don’t satisfy these needs, but I am better, stronger, and feel happier, with pursuing them. They do add, they do add to my life, and spirit.
Together with this there is also the desire to have her feel it. To have her feel that I am curious of anything hers and have her feel she comes first. To have her know it. The fact that she knows it already is not a good reason for not proving it, for not showing it. Not a sufficient reason to not celebrate it, and celebrate her every little thing, valuing each of them and letting her know it. There is no need of big things, sometimes no need to say a thing, still, it is important to let her feel it and from my side to proof it to her, as unnecessary as it is. And I know it is an unnecessary necessity for her too, I’d go further, I’d go as far to say that it is so for everyone. in a relationship. In my world, it is so, in my too extreme mind, it is so and it has to be so. Who is in my heart does not need to say a thing, every one who is truly loved deserve to feel it, to feel that way. Every loving heart deserves it, and no loving one should need to ask for it, it makes me feel I would have failed, if I realise I dont deliver that. The way I am is this, it’s like that, for those like me, I couldn’t do without having this push, this curiosity, it would mean she’s not the one I have in my heart, because having love for someone means having that, doing that.
I’m just like that.
More than that, as crazy as I am, I think it is the same for everyone (in a special personal way), then, I’m just crazier than others, and that makes me say it out loud (needing to, maybe), and writing it down.
In Italy there is a saying: “Un colpo al cerchio ed uno alla botte”.
It dates back to medieval times, the time in which master craftsmen were used to assemble piece by piece the wooden barrels. To do that they had to use iron rings, inserting them around the structure and then gently hammering first the iron ring (cerchio) and then the wooden barrel (botte) in order to achieve the perfection they needed.
Repeating this procedure over and over, they ended up with something perfectly balancing, strong, and sealed.
So: one stroke to the ring, one stroke to the barrel.
Over the course of time (centuries) this saying started getting used for something more general. Now it has become a proverb. It is now used when someone wants to underline a behaviour of people when they do something, and then, to correct it, or to balance the effect of it, they do something else, on the other edge, either to balance, or not to apparently displease, or to please both parts. It is now common to use this way of saying to underline those cases in which someone does something and then for the fear of having creating an unbalance, or displease, they do something else, to “make happy” even the other arm of the scale.
It is mostly used in an ironic way, yet, it hides a deep meaning. It is a sweet way of saying, very true, and very often pinpointing perfectly a situation.
Fact is that most of the times these little taps to “adjust” are unnecessary, and instead of adjusting they rather underline having created an unbalance that’s just “silly”, and was not to be created, overall.
Kitty Michelle's Universe 