There once was a girl with a rock in her shoe, and try as she might, she just couldn’t get it out. When she tipped her shoe over to let it escape, it hid from her. It became lost and she’d think she’d gotten it out, but really it was still there. And she noticed it every time she put her shoe back on.
One day she was walking from class to class, and the sharp rock stabbed her heel. She gasped in pain and stopped to make sure it was alright. Contrarily to this she took off her shoe and saw that it had started to bleed. She tried her best to cover it up, but the blood had already begun to congeal. Yuck.
At long last she finally got the blasted rock out, but it had already had its effect. Even though it was gone, it was still there in her mind. And she felt it. Still. That darned rock in her shoe.
As she was trudging through the snow one day, she broke the honor code and threw a snowball at her friend. It was really an ice ball though and it stabbed him and he started to bleed. She gasped, and a pain in her conscience made her cry out. She tried to make it up to him, but there was nothing she could do.
There was once a girl with a rock in her shoe, and try as she might, she just couldn’t get it out.
[and no robert, as much as you might be inclined to think it, this is not for/about you.]
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
time travel
Soaring through clouds through a mist of pure white
brings me back to the place where I started;
my home, my friends, the place of temptation;
the place where I'm most brokenhearted.
Soaring through clouds through the light of sun,
watching the dancing rays shine;
my flight should have brought me two hours ahead,
but instead, I've gone back in time.
Standing on ground for the first time in months,
in two minutes I realize I'm back;
all of the hard things I'd left behind,
swirl before me in a chaos of black.
brings me back to the place where I started;
my home, my friends, the place of temptation;
the place where I'm most brokenhearted.
Soaring through clouds through the light of sun,
watching the dancing rays shine;
my flight should have brought me two hours ahead,
but instead, I've gone back in time.
Standing on ground for the first time in months,
in two minutes I realize I'm back;
all of the hard things I'd left behind,
swirl before me in a chaos of black.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Sept. 18, 2009
Screeching
Grinding
On the rails
Heading toward the edge
Trying to
Stop.
Before I fall off
Before we fall off
And plummet to the bottom
Of an endless abyss
Of sorrow; darkness
Spiraling out of control
It's a bad feeling.
Keep me safe.
Keep you safe.
Keep us...
Happy.
Let's...
Stay away from the edge,
Shall we?
Grinding
On the rails
Heading toward the edge
Trying to
Stop.
Before I fall off
Before we fall off
And plummet to the bottom
Of an endless abyss
Of sorrow; darkness
Spiraling out of control
It's a bad feeling.
Keep me safe.
Keep you safe.
Keep us...
Happy.
Let's...
Stay away from the edge,
Shall we?
Day 17, 2009
Making a House
by: Amelia Rose
For Hon. 150
Building
Raising
A House; a home.
I am
Making
Creating.
In it will be windows;
Light
To study by.
In it will be a dishwasher
So I won't have to toil over dishes
For hours.
A soft bed, with fluffy pillows
And my Tuppy to cuddle with
In it will be
A closet; for my prayers.
From it you will see
Gardens, horses;
Children playing on the lawn
Around it you will feel love
And at the very front of it
Will be a doorknob
Waiting for someone
To enter.
by: Amelia Rose
For Hon. 150
Building
Raising
A House; a home.
I am
Making
Creating.
In it will be windows;
Light
To study by.
In it will be a dishwasher
So I won't have to toil over dishes
For hours.
A soft bed, with fluffy pillows
And my Tuppy to cuddle with
In it will be
A closet; for my prayers.
From it you will see
Gardens, horses;
Children playing on the lawn
Around it you will feel love
And at the very front of it
Will be a doorknob
Waiting for someone
To enter.
Sept. 16, 2009
For Ty
[i think]
Watching, waiting wondering
Trying to sort my life
While you...
are off in the Netherlands of all places.
Don't give up
Eight months is a long time.
Just because your more than halfway
Doesn't mean you're done
You can do it
Feel the spirit
And of course,
Have some fun (:
[i think]
Watching, waiting wondering
Trying to sort my life
While you...
are off in the Netherlands of all places.
Don't give up
Eight months is a long time.
Just because your more than halfway
Doesn't mean you're done
You can do it
Feel the spirit
And of course,
Have some fun (:
Monday, September 14, 2009
Sept. 14, 2009
Rain!
Alights on my hair
As I dance alongside droplets
That glide down from the sky
Sun!
Streams on the other side of the clouds
As I play in the puddles
And rejoice in the glory of precipitation
That is so rare here.
THUNDER!
Finally roars in the distance
The rain hastens its pace
And bullets toward unsuspecting pedestrians
Racing each other
Until they become tired
And disappear just as quickly as they came
Alights on my hair
As I dance alongside droplets
That glide down from the sky
Sun!
Streams on the other side of the clouds
As I play in the puddles
And rejoice in the glory of precipitation
That is so rare here.
THUNDER!
Finally roars in the distance
The rain hastens its pace
And bullets toward unsuspecting pedestrians
Racing each other
Until they become tired
And disappear just as quickly as they came
Sunday, September 13, 2009
9/12/09
Insecurities, weaknesses, failings
Eat at me like
Lava scorching a beautiful jungle.
In the moment
Where self-esteem is at its lowest
Another arrow
Hits me in the gut.
Insecurities, weaknesses, failings;
We all have them.
But
We must not dwell on them
We must see the goodness that is there
We must not compare our weakness
To another’s strength
Because
Comparison is truly the thief of joy.
Although…sometimes
It is good to just cry ourselves to sleep
Every once in awhile…
Insecurities, weaknesses, failings
Eat at me like
Lava scorching a beautiful jungle.
In the moment
Where self-esteem is at its lowest
Another arrow
Hits me in the gut.
Insecurities, weaknesses, failings;
We all have them.
But
We must not dwell on them
We must see the goodness that is there
We must not compare our weakness
To another’s strength
Because
Comparison is truly the thief of joy.
Although…sometimes
It is good to just cry ourselves to sleep
Every once in awhile…
Sept. 11
whats in a poem?
words
whats in a name?
letters
whats in a house?
furniture
whats in my shoes?
wet socks
whats in my mind?
lots
whats in a fridge?
food...
...later suckers!!
afterthoughts....considering the date i should probably write something epic in memorium of 9-11 but i'm too dag-gum hungry right now..gnight. lol [&tired]
words
whats in a name?
letters
whats in a house?
furniture
whats in my shoes?
wet socks
whats in my mind?
lots
whats in a fridge?
food...
...later suckers!!
afterthoughts....consideri
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
9-9-9 [365dPP]
Since You Won’t…I Will.
By: Amelia Rose
Missing you
Is hard to do
I wish you’d know the feeling
Sleepless nights
And spider bites
Keep my mind a’reeling
Memories come quickly now
Desires fight for me to bow
To them and give in once a more
But I hope I can show them the door
Loving me
Is always free
My love is there for taking
But since you don’t
(or since you won’t)
Time is just forsaking
[secrets]
By: Amelia Rose
Missing you
Is hard to do
I wish you’d know the feeling
Sleepless nights
And spider bites
Keep my mind a’reeling
Memories come quickly now
Desires fight for me to bow
To them and give in once a more
But I hope I can show them the door
Loving me
Is always free
My love is there for taking
But since you don’t
(or since you won’t)
Time is just forsaking
[secrets]
Sept. 8, 2009
The Fall of the House of...Best Friends.
By: Amelia Heer
Sadness
Dilapidation
Worldliness
Watching them
Ruin themselves,
Hurts.
Nothing I can do.
Nothing you can do.
Just...watch.
...and pray.
They can't stop our prayers.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Sept. 7th, 2009
Wo-Man.
Questions;
Thoughts
Feelings
All arise in my mind
What are you to me?
Why are you here?
How can we learn
From each other?
Memories;
Joys
Woes
All circle 'round my head
What about them?
What about you?
How can I know
Their meanings?
But I must laugh.
And stop;
And sleep.
Because
While my mind races
And slams down a resounding "no"
And my heart flutters
With a countering, "why not?"
Repeating the pattern over and over
I realize
That to the matter I am wrestling with so much
You don't give
A second thought.
So, goodnight.
And sweet dreams.
I'll see you when I see you.
Amelia Rose
Questions;
Thoughts
Feelings
All arise in my mind
What are you to me?
Why are you here?
How can we learn
From each other?
Memories;
Joys
Woes
All circle 'round my head
What about them?
What about you?
How can I know
Their meanings?
But I must laugh.
And stop;
And sleep.
Because
While my mind races
And slams down a resounding "no"
And my heart flutters
With a countering, "why not?"
Repeating the pattern over and over
I realize
That to the matter I am wrestling with so much
You don't give
A second thought.
So, goodnight.
And sweet dreams.
I'll see you when I see you.
Amelia Rose
Monday, September 7, 2009
Sept. 6 [365dPP]
An experiment with contemporary Haiku.
Llama.
by amelia rose
Soft as new-spun wool
I travel across the lands
And spit, 'cause I can.
**inspired by a VERY soft and wonderful wall decor at Sarah's (my roommate's) G-ma's house.
Llama.
by amelia rose
Soft as new-spun wool
I travel across the lands
And spit, 'cause I can.
**inspired by a VERY soft and wonderful wall decor at Sarah's (my roommate's) G-ma's house.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Sept. 5 [365dPP]
The Moments That Are Ours
By: Amelia Rose
Can you feel it?
The hush before the storm
The storm of new adventure
Knocking on our door?
It’s like I’m
Riding on a moonbeam,
Racin’ to the sea
Watchin’ stoplights flicker,
Just you and me
Ohh
Why
Is it that I love
The gleam in your eye
As if from above
It makes me feel so right
[chorus:]
Like the glory of an angel
The glimmer of the stars
The blazing rays of sunlight;
The moments that are ours
Is life like the movies?
Do dreams really come true?
Can the light of heaven
Connect me to you?
Do you think…it’s true?
[music break]
Ohh
How
Is it that I feel
That the time is now
For us to make it real?
[chorus:]
Like the glory of an angel
The glimmer of the stars
The blazing rays of sunlight;
The moments that are ours
Is life like the movies?
Do dreams really come true?
Can the light of heaven
Connect me to you?
Ohh, is it real?
Is is right?
Do you feel it tonight?
And are you
Riding on a moonbeam,
Racin’ to the sea
Watchin’ stoplights flicker,
Staying close with me?
Do you
Hope to live forever?
Can you learn to be my friend
Dance with me in silence
Love me till the end?
Ohh
Why
Is it that I love
The gleam in your eye
As if from above
It makes me feel so right
[chorus:]
Like the glory of an angel
The glimmer of the stars
The blazing rays of sunlight;
The moments that are ours
Is life like the movies?
Do dreams really come true?
Can the light of heaven
Connect me to you?
Oh the glory of an angel
The glimmer of the stars
Can’t replace the wonder
Of the moments that are ours
The moments that are…ours.
Oh I love…
You know I love…
By: Amelia Rose
Can you feel it?
The hush before the storm
The storm of new adventure
Knocking on our door?
It’s like I’m
Riding on a moonbeam,
Racin’ to the sea
Watchin’ stoplights flicker,
Just you and me
Ohh
Why
Is it that I love
The gleam in your eye
As if from above
It makes me feel so right
[chorus:]
Like the glory of an angel
The glimmer of the stars
The blazing rays of sunlight;
The moments that are ours
Is life like the movies?
Do dreams really come true?
Can the light of heaven
Connect me to you?
Do you think…it’s true?
[music break]
Ohh
How
Is it that I feel
That the time is now
For us to make it real?
[chorus:]
Like the glory of an angel
The glimmer of the stars
The blazing rays of sunlight;
The moments that are ours
Is life like the movies?
Do dreams really come true?
Can the light of heaven
Connect me to you?
Ohh, is it real?
Is is right?
Do you feel it tonight?
And are you
Riding on a moonbeam,
Racin’ to the sea
Watchin’ stoplights flicker,
Staying close with me?
Do you
Hope to live forever?
Can you learn to be my friend
Dance with me in silence
Love me till the end?
Ohh
Why
Is it that I love
The gleam in your eye
As if from above
It makes me feel so right
[chorus:]
Like the glory of an angel
The glimmer of the stars
The blazing rays of sunlight;
The moments that are ours
Is life like the movies?
Do dreams really come true?
Can the light of heaven
Connect me to you?
Oh the glory of an angel
The glimmer of the stars
Can’t replace the wonder
Of the moments that are ours
The moments that are…ours.
Oh I love…
You know I love…
Saturday, September 5, 2009
The Horn-e Hall. (lol)
Horn on the wall
Of the Heritage Hall
Not a turtle in a ball
But a skull of a bull who lost a fierce brawl.
Rather small;
Makes me feel tall.
No longer shall I stall,
Nor live in gall.
Let's just go to the mall.
And let that be all
For this semester fall. (:
Of the Heritage Hall
Not a turtle in a ball
But a skull of a bull who lost a fierce brawl.
Rather small;
Makes me feel tall.
No longer shall I stall,
Nor live in gall.
Let's just go to the mall.
And let that be all
For this semester fall. (:
Friday, September 4, 2009
Sept. 3 [365-DPP]
The Age of My Soul
By: Amelia Rose
Sometimes, I feel it.
In brief, fleeting glimpses
I feel it;
The age of my soul;
The weight of eternity.
It's not remembering, persay.
Just a feeling, a sensation
Truth.
When my mom tells me stories
Of how I was as a child;
Fearless, bold, innocent, pure;
Wise;
I feel it.
In the transience of an instant
A sense of connection with the premortal
Grazes my spirit;
A witness of the truth and glory of Eternity.
I may have only 18 years on this planet
But my soul is much older
My soul is, and was, and will be
Forever.
By: Amelia Rose
Sometimes, I feel it.
In brief, fleeting glimpses
I feel it;
The age of my soul;
The weight of eternity.
It's not remembering, persay.
Just a feeling, a sensation
Truth.
When my mom tells me stories
Of how I was as a child;
Fearless, bold, innocent, pure;
Wise;
I feel it.
In the transience of an instant
A sense of connection with the premortal
Grazes my spirit;
A witness of the truth and glory of Eternity.
I may have only 18 years on this planet
But my soul is much older
My soul is, and was, and will be
Forever.
365-Day Poetry Project!
So I have decided that I am going to write a poem or "take a photograph" of myself every day for a year. I will post them on here and on my blog at arose1223.blogspot.com (since BYU's blocked myspace don't bother checking there :/ ).
Actually I got the idea from the beautiful Miss Elyse Dolan. Indeed I shall not fail to give credit where credit is due. However, I am adapting her idea to fit my love of poetry rather than photography. (But it's essentially the same thing, if you ask me.)
Well here's the first one and I will list it as Wednesday, Sept. 2, 2009.
Enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Woman
I am. I am the violet ribbon of a rainbow streaking across the sky. I am a wild rose, fully blossomed with the firstfruits of spring. I am a radiant butterfly fluttering about a beautiful garden. I am a sunrise to a glorious day. One day I will be the sunset. Each day I am a new poem. I am my favorite book; every leaf holds something beautiful and treasured. I am a worn-out, dirty, falling-apart Raggedy Anne doll, there whenever a friend is needed. I am a link of a chain. I am a brick in a wall; you can put sticky tack on me and I will hold things up (until the sticky tack gives at least). I am the trick candle on the birthday cake; no matter how many times I’m blown out, eventually I flicker back to life. I am the CTR ring on your finger whispering, reminding to choose the right. I am a blanket, cuddle with me and I’ll keep you warm. I am deodorant. Without me your life would stink. I am Goldfish; “the wholesome snack that smiles back until you bite my head off!” I am your favorite pair of shoes; a little old, a little worn, a little scuffed, but still your favorite. I am a photo collage of everyone I’ve ever known. I am a movie. I am a clock ticking away. I am a sail on a ship, fluttering in the breeze. I am a music note resounding in the chamber of a great concert hall. I am the water that flows through a cactus. I am…a Tree! My leaves feast upon the light and glory of my Savior. I am a match hoping to kindle a brilliant, blazing fire somewhere in the forest of mankind. I am a star shining in the night. I am infinity. I am eternity. I am.
Are you?
So I have decided that I am going to write a poem or "take a photograph" of myself every day for a year. I will post them on here and on my blog at arose1223.blogspot.com (since BYU's blocked myspace don't bother checking there :/ ).
Actually I got the idea from the beautiful Miss Elyse Dolan. Indeed I shall not fail to give credit where credit is due. However, I am adapting her idea to fit my love of poetry rather than photography. (But it's essentially the same thing, if you ask me.)
Well here's the first one and I will list it as Wednesday, Sept. 2, 2009.
Enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Woman
I am. I am the violet ribbon of a rainbow streaking across the sky. I am a wild rose, fully blossomed with the firstfruits of spring. I am a radiant butterfly fluttering about a beautiful garden. I am a sunrise to a glorious day. One day I will be the sunset. Each day I am a new poem. I am my favorite book; every leaf holds something beautiful and treasured. I am a worn-out, dirty, falling-apart Raggedy Anne doll, there whenever a friend is needed. I am a link of a chain. I am a brick in a wall; you can put sticky tack on me and I will hold things up (until the sticky tack gives at least). I am the trick candle on the birthday cake; no matter how many times I’m blown out, eventually I flicker back to life. I am the CTR ring on your finger whispering, reminding to choose the right. I am a blanket, cuddle with me and I’ll keep you warm. I am deodorant. Without me your life would stink. I am Goldfish; “the wholesome snack that smiles back until you bite my head off!” I am your favorite pair of shoes; a little old, a little worn, a little scuffed, but still your favorite. I am a photo collage of everyone I’ve ever known. I am a movie. I am a clock ticking away. I am a sail on a ship, fluttering in the breeze. I am a music note resounding in the chamber of a great concert hall. I am the water that flows through a cactus. I am…a Tree! My leaves feast upon the light and glory of my Savior. I am a match hoping to kindle a brilliant, blazing fire somewhere in the forest of mankind. I am a star shining in the night. I am infinity. I am eternity. I am.
Are you?
Saturday, August 22, 2009
shh! it's a secret =] (at least till monday)
Current mood: fascinated
The Way You Love Me
By: Amelia Rose Heer
For Sherise and David Penry
Laughter.
Smiles.
Love.
We, you and I, are so dissimilar
So many different ways of thinking
On every variety of subject
And yet somehow, someway
We have been brought
Together
To share a lifetime, an eternity
Of love and joy
We are so dissimilar, and yet
We see so many things
The same;
The same,
The way your eyes look into mine
Probing, searching
Searching for my love, my tenderness reflecting back to you.
The way your warmth touches me
In each and every
Embrace
The way our laughter rings through the house that is ours
The way you hold me during the raging tempests outside
The way you kiss me after each and every prayer together
The way your hands bless me in times of illness, distress
The way you wipe away my tears, making sure I’m never lonely
The way you tease me, and then tell me I’m your Only
In the ways that you love me
We are the same
And I am so glad
That the moments we treasure
Will last not only for this lifetime
But now and forever.
Current mood: fascinated
The Way You Love Me
By: Amelia Rose Heer
For Sherise and David Penry
Laughter.
Smiles.
Love.
We, you and I, are so dissimilar
So many different ways of thinking
On every variety of subject
And yet somehow, someway
We have been brought
Together
To share a lifetime, an eternity
Of love and joy
We are so dissimilar, and yet
We see so many things
The same;
The same,
The way your eyes look into mine
Probing, searching
Searching for my love, my tenderness reflecting back to you.
The way your warmth touches me
In each and every
Embrace
The way our laughter rings through the house that is ours
The way you hold me during the raging tempests outside
The way you kiss me after each and every prayer together
The way your hands bless me in times of illness, distress
The way you wipe away my tears, making sure I’m never lonely
The way you tease me, and then tell me I’m your Only
In the ways that you love me
We are the same
And I am so glad
That the moments we treasure
Will last not only for this lifetime
But now and forever.
Current mood: weird
wanting to write...
not knowing what to say.
Idk. I'm just very tired.
I want to write about happiness; joy.
But I'm too tired right now.
Perhaps I'll come back to it another day
When my spirits may employ
Maybe then I'll know how
To express what I'm feeling
In the right, proper way
For now,
maybe I'll just fall asleep watching a movie.
Will you watch it with me?
not knowing what to say.
Idk. I'm just very tired.
I want to write about happiness; joy.
But I'm too tired right now.
Perhaps I'll come back to it another day
When my spirits may employ
Maybe then I'll know how
To express what I'm feeling
In the right, proper way
For now,
maybe I'll just fall asleep watching a movie.
Will you watch it with me?
Friday, August 14, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
Yet another sleepless night...
Current mood: Awake
Enduring the Infinite
By: Amelia Rose
[for me, myself & shaw]
Time.
Spinning under me
Like clouds swirling in a storm.
Colliding, heaping, amalgamating
One event on top of another
Each day dragging on
And yet gone in an instant
Swallowed up in the week
That holds each precious moment
Within the limitless bounds of eternity
Space.
Too much? Too little?
How can one tell?
One moment filled with light and faith
The next clogged by a dark torpor; of
Matter; confusion. Desires.
Spanning out forever
With me, just a tiny speck
On a plane of the universe
In which I live.
Me, weak little thing that I am
Wanting to be strong
Hoping to shine bright
And yet...it's all so much more complicated
Than we ever could have known
Love.
Compassing the ages
Reaching past the mind
Embracing the soul, forever.
Love; everlasting, unconditional
Crossing matter, time and space
Transcending theory, reason and thought
Delighting those who receive and give
Confounding those who seek to understand
Love comes
In so many different forms, expressions
And yet is as infinite as time
As endless as space
As constant as the sun;
Always there, even if the afternoon's a little hazy
Always there, even if the world's turned its back on it
Always there, ready to rise when the cock calls for it
Then there's...
Me.
Careening down a raging river
Holding on, just barely
As time, space, love
Thought, feeling, duty
Trust, faith, hope
Swell in and out like the tides
Onto the shores of my sentience
So many emotions, all swirling in a haze
Incomprehensible, opaque, yet still,
Racing by, lightning fast--Racing
Like my heart.
Current mood: Awake
Enduring the Infinite
By: Amelia Rose
[for me, myself & shaw]
Time.
Spinning under me
Like clouds swirling in a storm.
Colliding, heaping, amalgamating
One event on top of another
Each day dragging on
And yet gone in an instant
Swallowed up in the week
That holds each precious moment
Within the limitless bounds of eternity
Space.
Too much? Too little?
How can one tell?
One moment filled with light and faith
The next clogged by a dark torpor; of
Matter; confusion. Desires.
Spanning out forever
With me, just a tiny speck
On a plane of the universe
In which I live.
Me, weak little thing that I am
Wanting to be strong
Hoping to shine bright
And yet...it's all so much more complicated
Than we ever could have known
Love.
Compassing the ages
Reaching past the mind
Embracing the soul, forever.
Love; everlasting, unconditional
Crossing matter, time and space
Transcending theory, reason and thought
Delighting those who receive and give
Confounding those who seek to understand
Love comes
In so many different forms, expressions
And yet is as infinite as time
As endless as space
As constant as the sun;
Always there, even if the afternoon's a little hazy
Always there, even if the world's turned its back on it
Always there, ready to rise when the cock calls for it
Then there's...
Me.
Careening down a raging river
Holding on, just barely
As time, space, love
Thought, feeling, duty
Trust, faith, hope
Swell in and out like the tides
Onto the shores of my sentience
So many emotions, all swirling in a haze
Incomprehensible, opaque, yet still,
Racing by, lightning fast--Racing
Like my heart.
[a single secret]
Monday, August 3, 2009
Distractions
Amelia Rose
It had been over a year since the lady’s disappointment with the gentleman; she had not seen him since that dreadful evening. Less than a month after his confession to the lady, it had come out to the public that he was not heir to the estate he was tending; that his patron had died and the true heir was come to take his rightful property. While upon this news, the family was quite relieved that their daughter hadn’t followed through with the match, it did not affect her view of the situation. She was quite as upset as before; perhaps even more so. It was not his lack of fortune that bothered her, however.
The news had given the lady twice a reason to question the gentleman’s character, namely his integrity. In all their conversations he had never mentioned that he was not heir to the meager estate, nor that he was betrothed and she now wondered as to the veracity of the latter. He well may have been trying to cover up his lack of fortune, which irritated the lady greatly. She had believed him to be of a higher mind than to be so conscious of wealth and l’argent. Furthermore, to believe that she was of such a mind revealed how little he had known her character.
Days, weeks passed and it was known that the gentleman had fled the area presumably for shame. The loving sisters tried their best to console their dear sister, but she would have none of it. In time the remonstrance felt by the lady toward the gentleman melted into a dull ache in the back of her heart. She missed his smile, his easy, genteel manner. She missed their walks in Le Parc, his thoughtful surprises, those twilit moments alone when the stars twinkled brightest…
And yet, no news was to be had of his return. Each morn she woke, spirit alit with hope; just a sighting, his name, even word of a relative would satisfy her! Yet each day drudged on with nothing of the sort; each night she struggled for sleep, tossing and turning relentlessly upon her lit.
The parrot hardly ever squawked anymore.
Time wore on and eventually it was required of the lady to accept that the gentleman was no longer a central part of her life. That the only place she might acknowledge nostalgia for him was in the subconscious of her stolen heart. Several months had now passed and the lady withdrew into les dessins.
She would draw and paint for hours on end; sometimes gentle scenes of lilacs and lilies, sometimes shocking portraits of terror and havoc. The quality of her artwork enhanced at an exceedingly astonishing and marvelous rate. Almost overnight she rose from not-quite-obscurity (her father was after all a highly respected statesman) to high personal acclaim from nobles, neighbors and friends.
Her art traveled far and wide across the countryside earning her a reputation of distinction and renown. This report was made known to the Baroness LaReine. A woman of finesse and accomplishment herself, the world knew the baroness as a very fond patron of les arts. Her expertise centered in la musique, nevertheless she determined to meet this young lady of whom she had heard so much praise and adoration.
An invitation was sent and the baroness, having no reason to dwell on the matter, proceeded to other issues. Imagine the shock of a lady of such high importance and esteem when several days later, a messenger returned with a letter from the lady most graciously declining the engagement. In a fury of shock and outrage the baroness determined never to waste another idle thought on the insolent woman.
Nevertheless she could not go a day without hearing of this new drawing for Sir John, or that recent painting of Mrs. Smith. Ultimately the curiosity of the baroness won out, and as soon as such a woman might conquer her pride, the baroness personally called on the maison.
Much to the surprise of the baroness, the lady received the visit with quiet kindness and soft humility. Well had Madame LaReine expected arrogance and a proud sort of air from an one so highly distinguished. Contrary to these expectations, the lady showed every grace of nature a dignified woman must possess. In time the lady excused herself and resumed her work. More than once, the baroness felt the need to reassure herself in subtle whispers to the family of the veracity of the lady’s identity.
In response to her wonderment, the baroness was ushered into a studio room cluttered with sketches and half-finished pieces of marvelous talent. The sisters of the lady, not so oblivious as she to the magnanimity of their visitor, left the baroness alone to muse and admire. Aside from the paintings only a drawing table and the chair occupied the room. With the exception of one cabinet. After taking quite a time to view the lady’s collection, the baroness noticed this cabinet which appeared to be locked. Upon inspection, however, from a proud and nosy noble, the lock was proved to be broken and the inside of the cabinet revealed nothing extraordinary.
A single piece of neatly folded parchment lay at the bottom. Curiosity battled with propriety for a short time before the baroness gave in and eagerly grasped the parchment. Listening hard for sounds of warning, the woman carefully unfolded the parchment, revealing a most unexpected, yet stunning array of color and detail. The drawing depicted a representation of a statue the baroness recognized as having seen while entering the front gates of the manor. On the statue, a man rode horseback with no bridle, nor stirrups to guide his way. In the drawing, the man’s hair blew as freely as the horse’s mane underneath a sparkling azure sky. It seemed to the baroness as if she could feel the wind as it whipped bright autumn leaves across a wild, unbeaten prairie toward which man and animal fearlessly ventured.
The baroness gazed for several minutes at the dazzling piece of artwork and wondered how such unrestrained beauty could be hidden away in a cabinet rather than on display in an elegant manor.
She did not have time to wonder long, however before she heard footsteps in the corridor. The baroness hastily folded the drawing and placed it back into the cabinet, making her way to the opposite corner of the room.
The sisters entered and, after receiving the highest praise and admiration for their sister’s work, led their distinguished guest down the hall. The baroness returned to her mansion that night with decided interest in the disconcertingly modest lady and her divinely bewitching art.
Amelia Rose
It had been over a year since the lady’s disappointment with the gentleman; she had not seen him since that dreadful evening. Less than a month after his confession to the lady, it had come out to the public that he was not heir to the estate he was tending; that his patron had died and the true heir was come to take his rightful property. While upon this news, the family was quite relieved that their daughter hadn’t followed through with the match, it did not affect her view of the situation. She was quite as upset as before; perhaps even more so. It was not his lack of fortune that bothered her, however.
The news had given the lady twice a reason to question the gentleman’s character, namely his integrity. In all their conversations he had never mentioned that he was not heir to the meager estate, nor that he was betrothed and she now wondered as to the veracity of the latter. He well may have been trying to cover up his lack of fortune, which irritated the lady greatly. She had believed him to be of a higher mind than to be so conscious of wealth and l’argent. Furthermore, to believe that she was of such a mind revealed how little he had known her character.
Days, weeks passed and it was known that the gentleman had fled the area presumably for shame. The loving sisters tried their best to console their dear sister, but she would have none of it. In time the remonstrance felt by the lady toward the gentleman melted into a dull ache in the back of her heart. She missed his smile, his easy, genteel manner. She missed their walks in Le Parc, his thoughtful surprises, those twilit moments alone when the stars twinkled brightest…
And yet, no news was to be had of his return. Each morn she woke, spirit alit with hope; just a sighting, his name, even word of a relative would satisfy her! Yet each day drudged on with nothing of the sort; each night she struggled for sleep, tossing and turning relentlessly upon her lit.
The parrot hardly ever squawked anymore.
Time wore on and eventually it was required of the lady to accept that the gentleman was no longer a central part of her life. That the only place she might acknowledge nostalgia for him was in the subconscious of her stolen heart. Several months had now passed and the lady withdrew into les dessins.
She would draw and paint for hours on end; sometimes gentle scenes of lilacs and lilies, sometimes shocking portraits of terror and havoc. The quality of her artwork enhanced at an exceedingly astonishing and marvelous rate. Almost overnight she rose from not-quite-obscurity (her father was after all a highly respected statesman) to high personal acclaim from nobles, neighbors and friends.
Her art traveled far and wide across the countryside earning her a reputation of distinction and renown. This report was made known to the Baroness LaReine. A woman of finesse and accomplishment herself, the world knew the baroness as a very fond patron of les arts. Her expertise centered in la musique, nevertheless she determined to meet this young lady of whom she had heard so much praise and adoration.
An invitation was sent and the baroness, having no reason to dwell on the matter, proceeded to other issues. Imagine the shock of a lady of such high importance and esteem when several days later, a messenger returned with a letter from the lady most graciously declining the engagement. In a fury of shock and outrage the baroness determined never to waste another idle thought on the insolent woman.
Nevertheless she could not go a day without hearing of this new drawing for Sir John, or that recent painting of Mrs. Smith. Ultimately the curiosity of the baroness won out, and as soon as such a woman might conquer her pride, the baroness personally called on the maison.
Much to the surprise of the baroness, the lady received the visit with quiet kindness and soft humility. Well had Madame LaReine expected arrogance and a proud sort of air from an one so highly distinguished. Contrary to these expectations, the lady showed every grace of nature a dignified woman must possess. In time the lady excused herself and resumed her work. More than once, the baroness felt the need to reassure herself in subtle whispers to the family of the veracity of the lady’s identity.
In response to her wonderment, the baroness was ushered into a studio room cluttered with sketches and half-finished pieces of marvelous talent. The sisters of the lady, not so oblivious as she to the magnanimity of their visitor, left the baroness alone to muse and admire. Aside from the paintings only a drawing table and the chair occupied the room. With the exception of one cabinet. After taking quite a time to view the lady’s collection, the baroness noticed this cabinet which appeared to be locked. Upon inspection, however, from a proud and nosy noble, the lock was proved to be broken and the inside of the cabinet revealed nothing extraordinary.
A single piece of neatly folded parchment lay at the bottom. Curiosity battled with propriety for a short time before the baroness gave in and eagerly grasped the parchment. Listening hard for sounds of warning, the woman carefully unfolded the parchment, revealing a most unexpected, yet stunning array of color and detail. The drawing depicted a representation of a statue the baroness recognized as having seen while entering the front gates of the manor. On the statue, a man rode horseback with no bridle, nor stirrups to guide his way. In the drawing, the man’s hair blew as freely as the horse’s mane underneath a sparkling azure sky. It seemed to the baroness as if she could feel the wind as it whipped bright autumn leaves across a wild, unbeaten prairie toward which man and animal fearlessly ventured.
The baroness gazed for several minutes at the dazzling piece of artwork and wondered how such unrestrained beauty could be hidden away in a cabinet rather than on display in an elegant manor.
She did not have time to wonder long, however before she heard footsteps in the corridor. The baroness hastily folded the drawing and placed it back into the cabinet, making her way to the opposite corner of the room.
The sisters entered and, after receiving the highest praise and admiration for their sister’s work, led their distinguished guest down the hall. The baroness returned to her mansion that night with decided interest in the disconcertingly modest lady and her divinely bewitching art.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Singing to You
By: Amelia Rose
[For Matt 6:34]
Singing to you
From a distant shore
a different time
another land
Listen to my song
feel as it is carried away by the breeze
and is brought, directly
to your heart.
You feel it, don’t you?
Listen well, you’ll hear it
Rustling in the leaves
Rippling in the river
Humming from the crickets in their mighty symphonies
Listen, feel and look
As my song
twinkles in the light
of the stars that shine on both of us;
A melody just for you
Connecting us; reminding
That we are not so far apart, you and I
Listen to my song
I sing it just for you
Listen well, you’ll hear it
It echoes of my spirit
Listen well, you’ll find it
In the rainbow’s colors
In the firefly’s eyes
In the rose’s petals
And then, even closer… ♥
By: Amelia Rose
[For Matt 6:34]
Singing to you
From a distant shore
a different time
another land
Listen to my song
feel as it is carried away by the breeze
and is brought, directly
to your heart.
You feel it, don’t you?
Listen well, you’ll hear it
Rustling in the leaves
Rippling in the river
Humming from the crickets in their mighty symphonies
Listen, feel and look
As my song
twinkles in the light
of the stars that shine on both of us;
A melody just for you
Connecting us; reminding
That we are not so far apart, you and I
Listen to my song
I sing it just for you
Listen well, you’ll hear it
It echoes of my spirit
Listen well, you’ll find it
In the rainbow’s colors
In the firefly’s eyes
In the rose’s petals
And then, even closer… ♥
…you feel it, don’t you.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Following a star gets you only so far...
...but eventually you turn around and leave it.
Forever
[for z]
[for z]
I'll miss you.
Whenever I see eyes that twinkle for a kiss
for
Every one that comes and goes
Now remebmer this,
I'll miss you.
As the sun warms my cheeks on a bright autumn day;
'Midst storm clouds that clash
Or bright stars that flash
Right through my window in the night,
I'll miss you.
Zillions of years may pass me by; even all eternity
As if fireflies that sparkle on and off in the night
but
If you ever need me, I'll be there in a blink
During times of sorrow, times of joy, times of light
during times of pain,
I'll love you.
[secrets]
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Happy endings are overrated.
PMS + anxiety + sadness + cramping + confusion =
Disappointments
Amelia Rose
“I wish I could marry you,” intimated the gentleman sadly one night.
“Whyever can you not?” asked the lady. Anticipating a forthcoming joke, she gave a playful smile.
The gentleman hesitated. His eyes betrayed a discomfort that the lady could not discern. She wondered at his indecision. If it were only a joke, why should he shrink so…? And if it were not, the pair had been openly affectionate (within the bounds of propriety) for several weeks now. He should know that he could be open with her…if there was something on his mind.
He said he could not marry her. To herself she laughed! If he was worried for her comfort, this fear must be abolished. She was not the sort to hold material possessions in high priority. She knew his means and knew what sacrifices would be made on her part, and was a most willing party. If he was worried for the good favor of her family, this also would prove a ridiculous concern. They absolutely adored him. And his family could not be a concern. His parents had died early in his childhood and he had been raised by aunt and patroness who was settled over fifty miles away. The lady could not think of a single thing else that might prevent their happy union.
The lady looked to his eyes more closely. They were wanting in the ease and playfulness she so desperately desired to see in them. They searched for the right words to say; whether to carry it off as a joke, or to let the full truth come forth. Already he saw the question in her. If he did not let her come to terms now, he would only prolong the inevitable.
Finally the lady saw decision come into focus in the gentleman’s eyes. He knew what he would say. The lady held her breath in brutal suspense.
“I’ve been betrothed to another since birth.”
For a moment all was silent.
In stark astonishment the lady gazed at the veracity, the pure truth, etched in his eyes. This was not a joke; he was quite serious. But how could he be? How could he become so intimate an acquaintance, give her such hopes, if he knew he was…she could not even think it. But she must. If it were true… This gentleman who she had known so long, had loved so dearly—betrothed. Betrothed! To another…most likely more beautiful than she, more wealthy, more worthy of his devotions…
Overcome with emotion, the lady felt her heart splinter into a thousand pieces. She could not breathe. She felt herself suddenly spiraling into a deep, dark pit of anguish, with nothing to open her to the light.
Without knowing how to comprehend, the lady burst forth from the twilit terrace in mad anguish. Tears flooded down her face and she would not be seen for quite some time.
The gentleman watched her rush away from the terrace, the pain the lady openly experienced, stabbing equally in his own heart. He turned away, staring off into the night, begging the stars to present him with some other alternative; anything but this. But for once, the stars were silent.
The gentleman could not pull his mind away from the look—the piercing glare filled with the hurt of betrayal—that had crossed her face the moment before she turned away. He recalled the tears that followed soon after, streaking down her beautiful face, marring her tender smile. Those tears, they could have been his own. He loved her. To him she was the most beautiful, tender hearted, worthiest creature in the world…to see her pain; to know he, himself, the cause of it! This was more than he could bear.
The gentleman felt himself waver. The air stung him with cold as he crumpled in a heap on the terrace. His own sobs echoed meaninglessly through the bleak, indifferent night.
Disappointments
Amelia Rose
“I wish I could marry you,” intimated the gentleman sadly one night.
“Whyever can you not?” asked the lady. Anticipating a forthcoming joke, she gave a playful smile.
The gentleman hesitated. His eyes betrayed a discomfort that the lady could not discern. She wondered at his indecision. If it were only a joke, why should he shrink so…? And if it were not, the pair had been openly affectionate (within the bounds of propriety) for several weeks now. He should know that he could be open with her…if there was something on his mind.
He said he could not marry her. To herself she laughed! If he was worried for her comfort, this fear must be abolished. She was not the sort to hold material possessions in high priority. She knew his means and knew what sacrifices would be made on her part, and was a most willing party. If he was worried for the good favor of her family, this also would prove a ridiculous concern. They absolutely adored him. And his family could not be a concern. His parents had died early in his childhood and he had been raised by aunt and patroness who was settled over fifty miles away. The lady could not think of a single thing else that might prevent their happy union.
The lady looked to his eyes more closely. They were wanting in the ease and playfulness she so desperately desired to see in them. They searched for the right words to say; whether to carry it off as a joke, or to let the full truth come forth. Already he saw the question in her. If he did not let her come to terms now, he would only prolong the inevitable.
Finally the lady saw decision come into focus in the gentleman’s eyes. He knew what he would say. The lady held her breath in brutal suspense.
“I’ve been betrothed to another since birth.”
For a moment all was silent.
In stark astonishment the lady gazed at the veracity, the pure truth, etched in his eyes. This was not a joke; he was quite serious. But how could he be? How could he become so intimate an acquaintance, give her such hopes, if he knew he was…she could not even think it. But she must. If it were true… This gentleman who she had known so long, had loved so dearly—betrothed. Betrothed! To another…most likely more beautiful than she, more wealthy, more worthy of his devotions…
Overcome with emotion, the lady felt her heart splinter into a thousand pieces. She could not breathe. She felt herself suddenly spiraling into a deep, dark pit of anguish, with nothing to open her to the light.
Without knowing how to comprehend, the lady burst forth from the twilit terrace in mad anguish. Tears flooded down her face and she would not be seen for quite some time.
The gentleman watched her rush away from the terrace, the pain the lady openly experienced, stabbing equally in his own heart. He turned away, staring off into the night, begging the stars to present him with some other alternative; anything but this. But for once, the stars were silent.
The gentleman could not pull his mind away from the look—the piercing glare filled with the hurt of betrayal—that had crossed her face the moment before she turned away. He recalled the tears that followed soon after, streaking down her beautiful face, marring her tender smile. Those tears, they could have been his own. He loved her. To him she was the most beautiful, tender hearted, worthiest creature in the world…to see her pain; to know he, himself, the cause of it! This was more than he could bear.
The gentleman felt himself waver. The air stung him with cold as he crumpled in a heap on the terrace. His own sobs echoed meaninglessly through the bleak, indifferent night.
facebook poetry.
Hop in the car, steal me away, just for the moment, live for today. Ride on the railway, where the sun shines free, just take a chance, come and risk yourself for me. Standin' at the corner, hoping for your face, runnin' round the bases, headin' for disgrace; Walk with me, talk with me, steal me away. Hold me tight, or i will slip, it's a guaruntee they say...
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Expressions
Amelia Rose
[For Zach]
The lady sighed pleasantly as she gazed fondly out the windows, through which the sun sparkled gaily. Coloured hues of autumn were beginning to overtake the trees that lined the walk leading up to the maison. Tidings, pleasant news in the form of a letter, had just come by messenger to inform the mademoiselle that the absence of a certain gentleman would soon come to an end. He was to arrive within the week, after a leave of business that had lasted several months longer than initially anticipated. This absence had occasioned in the lady an acute awareness of how much the lady had truly depended on the gentleman for all wants of society and company. Very rarely did the lady leave her situation at the maison or vary outside of the close social circle of Le Parc in which she lived. Thus said, the loss of this man was keenly felt, and this news of his return excited every brilliancy of feeling and delight one could expect of a heart so young and tender.
It was no wonder to any close observer that the lady should be so eager for the gentleman’s return; in fact it would have been much more odd had the lady been indifferent to the news. The man was of no little consequence, and on a general standing well respected and agreeable to all his associates. For the family of the lady, such had been transpiring before the departure of the gentleman several months preceding, which taught them to hope that an offer would soon be made, and their fair daughter soon settled comfortably as mistress of an estate not several miles off.
As for the lady herself, her disposition for propriety of manner only, concealed the excess of her joy in the prospect of his return. She wondered at, but dared not fancy or imagine (for fear of disappointment), the manner in which the gentleman would receive her attentions. He had been gone several long months, in which anything and everything could have changed. But she did not linger upon such ideas for she was an optimistic spirit to which little, especially of such an ambiguous and unfounded nature, could rustle into agitation. Thus she left the future to itself and mused upon pleasing memories and fond recollections of time spent with the gentleman during the days that preceded his arrival.
Tedious and long were those days which passed without sight of the gentleman. Quite often the lady found herself seeking refuge alone among the great oaks and sanguine beech trees of the estate, escaping the tiresome trouble of waiting. She was not musical to find peace in such endeavors, nor was she much for embroidery.
But she could draw.
Her sketches were admired by every one who glimpsed them, but she was modest enough to defer their compliments to the credit of the governess who had taught her as a girl. Nevertheless talent, such as hers, can never be learned, and in spite of all her protestations, all her family and acquaintance praised her natural gift.
Currently she worked on a sketch of a statue, bejeweled in leaves and glinting in the sunlight. It was the favorite of the home-coming gentleman and for him she hoped to do the intricate marble justice by her pencil. The statue was of a man on a horse with no bridle, nor stirrups. Together the two seemed to ride freely, unrestrained, and with no want of delicacy or propriety. The love and joy expressed in their countenances excited in her own being a desire for a same sort of unrestrained freedom of expression. She well knew why this particular piece was highly favored by the intended recipient of her art.
The sun dictated the time to head in for dinner and so the lady quickly made the finishing touches upon her project and gathered her things. Embarking on the path that led to the maison, the lady was lost in her own musings when the sound of near voices startled her into awareness.
She turned the corner of the shrubbery to behold a carriage parked in front of the maison. She stopped long enough to watch as the coachman disappeared around the corner of the house calling for a servant to tend to the horses, leaving only the gentleman standing in front of his coach. She witnessed this all in silent expostulation. Familiar desires which had slept dormant for some time awakened in her being. She felt her breath catch and her heart begin to beat furiously as she scanned his profile and took in everything he was. Would he come back to her with the same feelings as when he left? Had events transpired while he was abroad which she did not know of? She need not have worried. His expression was the same, if not more exceedingly pleased to be again standing in front of this maison. His air and countenance betrayed no want of joy or no repressed discontentments for the event of his return.
The lady sighed a glad sigh of relief as she gazed upon his figure sparkling in the afternoon glow of the sun.
It was at this moment his head turned sharply and even from this distance his brilliant blue eyes pierced her own. After a moment of intensity the gentleman began to walk most rigorously toward her, holding her eyes captive, reading every emotion which fluttered through her heart and mirroring such by his own tender expression. She was drawn to him by his gaze and she soon began to walk with forced composure to meet him.
They stopped a foot apart from each other, as was proper. Their hands met and he pulled her fingers gently to his lips. They brushed her fingertips sensuously as he uttered his soft-spoken salutations. She took her time as she pulled her hand away to return the greeting with a curtsey. Finally, she could compose herself enough that she could smile and invite him inside. He had arrived in just enough time to join their party for dinner and she entreated him that he should accept.
He kept a steady gaze on her throughout her speech and immediately consented, even before she had finished speaking. She smiled, bowed and turned to lead the way inside, but he remained standing, fixed in his place. Turning to inquire what could be the matter, the gentleman stopped her with his gaze. He advanced toward her timidly and yet with a boldness unforeseen. She did not retreat.
“You cannot have known,” he began, “the emptiness to which the lack of your presence occasioned in me. I could not think, nor sleep, without some reminder of your sweet smile and genteel manner embracing my thoughts and making tender my heart.”
The shock of such a speech fell to the reproach of no one. Only her gladdened senses eagerly drunk in every word he said as he began to express a love most ardent.
His addresses were interrupted, however, by a most well-meaning father who had news from the coachman of the gentleman’s immediate presence upon his estate. The two were ushered inside as dinner was about to begin.
Inside the great hall, the gentleman was received with many expressions of welcome and joy from all. He was swept away in a tide of inquiries and tidings of what had transpired in Le Parc during the course of his absence. So passed the remainder of the evening, depriving the gentleman of a moment alone with the lady in which he might renew his sentiments and proceed further with his purpose, and also the lady of an opportunity in which she might secure a moment to present her gift, the drawing, to the gentleman. As he departed however, a significant look passed between the two, assuring the lady that the morrow would bring great joie. This hope led her to a gentle night’s rest and fanciful dreams to quicken her spirits as she slept.
Unfortunately, no such happy meeting took place the next day, nor even for the rest of the week. Caught up in the whirlwind of all those matters of estate which he had eluded upon his first day home, the gentleman made no call upon Le Parc.
The lady idled her days in suspense. This sort of waiting was even more treacherous than the first sort; the gentleman was so close to her, and yet while he was not by her side, she could not be content. The lady made no more attempts at drawing. Rather she spent much solitary time out and walking the grounds. Sometimes she would bring with her a tropical parrot whose primary residence was in the foyer of the maison, but who nevertheless enjoyed the freedom supplied by the lady’s left arm.
This parrot would often talk to the lady, although very rarely did he make much sense. He knew not a word of English, and the lady delighted in having someone (even a parrot) with which she might practice her French. On their walks, the parrot often became the lady’s confidante. With this creature, it was so easy to pour out all her heart’s hopes and fears, joys and discouragements, challenges and struggles. To him she told things she never breathed a word of to anyone else, mostly because propriety forbid it.
Of course then, the parrot knew all about the gentleman, had known for some time. He kept encouraging the lady to “Suivez votre cœur” and “Prenez un risque!” as well as many other things to help the lady win his love. One can imagine the frustration it brought to the well-meaning parrot, whenever he attempted to give the lady advice, only for her to laugh it off! Indeed! She would laugh and say, “Silly parrot petit, if only you had the smallest idée of what you say!” or something to that effect. Indeed, she made the business quite tiresome with all her ignorant reproofs. Nevertheless the parrot made no surrender. Surely one day she would understand. One day…
On the gentleman’s side, each day separated from his lady (although whenever he thought this, he would check himself; in all technicalities she was not yet “his”) made him more and more anxious. After a week of this separation he determined to see her that very night. He left word with his butler to send a messenger to notify his associates of a postponement of his prior engagements. Business of a nature that could not wait had come and the gentleman while acknowledging its inconvenience to his party resolutely declared that it was necessary and he must attend to such matters at once.
Thus he found himself late that night anxiously pacing the grand foyer of the maison, waiting on the lady to return from an evening stroll. He had already spoken with her father and while the rest of the household was upstairs preparing for bed, he had granted unusual permission to the gentleman that he might wait downstairs for the lady without interruption. Of course, the father suspected what might be transpiring below, and made every effort to secure for the pair all the privacy which might be desired for such an occasion.
It was with great surprise (and no little pleasure) for the lady when she entered the foyer and found the gentleman awaiting her return. The parrot also was intrigued. “Il y a l’homme!” he shrieked. “Ma fille, maintenant est le fois! Demandez-lui un baiser!” Not a little embarrassed, the lady hastily put away the parrot and covered the cage to muffle his erratic cries.
Non-plussed, the gentleman chuckled a little and approached the lady. He offered her his arm and with her at his side, he silently led her through the maison until they reached a quiet terrace overlooking the moonlit night.
Songs of crickets reached the pair through the whispers of the wind. Songs of despair, hope, joy and of love echoed through the silent night. In time to each melody fireflies danced and sparkled bright amidst the darkened landscape. As little beads of light they hung alongside the stars, forming a curtain of brilliance, flickering in and out, in accordance with the beating of the hearts upon the terrace.
Their eyes met. The whole world might have crumbled around them and neither would have noticed. Grasping the tips of his fingers, she searched his face in orotund silence, wondering. Wondering, that is, until a great grin spread across his features and suddenly she was swept into his arms and spun back to the ground. Breathless, she gazed up at him in amazement. He pulled her close in a tight embrace and the lady knew not what she should do. Surely this was not proper. Surely something was amiss according to every standard she had been taught. And yet…it felt so right.
Not a word had been uttered since her arrival in the foyer, except by the nonsensical parrot. Now his words rang again and again in her mind, “Suivez votre cœur.” They suddenly made sense—follow your heart. Upon realizing this she suddenly knew what she must do.
Her soft eyes twinkling into his blazing blue, she hesitated for just one moment. Then, as if drawn to him by some unseen force, she gently lifted her lips to his. He seemed surprised, nevertheless he gladly accepted her gentle kiss.
“Embrasser,” she whispered once they parted.
“To kiss,” he repeated with the hint of a smile.
The cool evening breeze caressed their tender faces as their hearts intertwined that night. The countenance of each glowed in superfluous brilliancy as they poured out their souls to each other in united felicity and bliss. All the while, the crickets continued to hum, the fireflies continued to dance among the stars, and all the universe rejoiced in one accord;
This was right.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
=]
"That which one selfishly keeps, he loses, while that which he willingly shares, he keeps."
--Anonymous
A Trace
By: Amelia Rose
Downcast
Gloomy
Dejected
Weary.
But then,
Suddenly
Out of nowhere
Comes a thought
A recollection
A word
An event
A single event of seemingly little significance
Which passes by in an instant
And is forgotten just as soon
But…it leaves in its wake
A trace of what transpired;
A smile.
Which continues on
Long after the spark
The illuminator
Is gone
Then spreading on
To another
Leaving with him
A smile just as well
And then on to another
And another
And another
Making the world
A better, brighter,
Happier place.
--Anonymous
A Trace
By: Amelia Rose
Downcast
Gloomy
Dejected
Weary.
But then,
Suddenly
Out of nowhere
Comes a thought
A recollection
A word
An event
A single event of seemingly little significance
Which passes by in an instant
And is forgotten just as soon
But…it leaves in its wake
A trace of what transpired;
A smile.
Which continues on
Long after the spark
The illuminator
Is gone
Then spreading on
To another
Leaving with him
A smile just as well
And then on to another
And another
And another
Making the world
A better, brighter,
Happier place.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Moments
Vive la vie en rose ♥
"His sanguine spirit turns every firefly into a star." Arthur Conan Doyle. [it's true. =]
at 1:16 AM Jun 20
Mood: loved
this has been stuck in my head.
Current mood: peaceful
Ooo. you make me live
whatever this world can give to me
It's you, you're all I see
Ooo, you make me live now honey
Ooo, you make me live
You're the best friend that I ever had
I've been with you such a long time
You're my sunshine
And I want you to know
That my feelings are true
I really love you
You're my best friend
Ooo, you make me live
I've been wandering round
But I still come back to you
In rain or shine
You've stood by me girl
I'm happy, happy at home
You're my best friend.
You're the first one
When things turn out bad
You know I'll never be lonely
You're my only one
And I love --I really love
The things that you do
You're my best friend
Ooo, you make me live.
You're my best friend
Ooo, you make me live
You, you're my best friend.
"His sanguine spirit turns every firefly into a star." Arthur Conan Doyle. [it's true. =]
at 1:16 AM Jun 20
Mood: loved
this has been stuck in my head.
Current mood: peaceful
Ooo. you make me live
whatever this world can give to me
It's you, you're all I see
Ooo, you make me live now honey
Ooo, you make me live
You're the best friend that I ever had
I've been with you such a long time
You're my sunshine
And I want you to know
That my feelings are true
I really love you
You're my best friend
Ooo, you make me live
I've been wandering round
But I still come back to you
In rain or shine
You've stood by me girl
I'm happy, happy at home
You're my best friend.
You're the first one
When things turn out bad
You know I'll never be lonely
You're my only one
And I love --I really love
The things that you do
You're my best friend
Ooo, you make me live.
You're my best friend
Ooo, you make me live
You, you're my best friend.
Friday, June 19, 2009
happy birthday ♥
“And when the poet gazed
upon his siren he was struck dumb.
His pen fell to the earth in
shameful uselessness,
for all his many words could do her no justice.” –Zach
Glendening
First
Kiss
Those times we parted
The pauses
The rests between notes
wherein the real music lies
Those I will cherish
forever.
When our cheeks lingered near
each other
And our eyes ventured a
glance,
Timid across the close
expanse...
To find the triumph, bliss
and ecstasy we each were feeling,
Mirrored in the other's
eyes;
This will remain always
etched into my soul.
Those times when I could
feel his breath on my face,
His lips on my cheek...
His eyes on my heart.
♥
Ami
Rose
Friday, June 5, 2009
Mysterious Echoes
By: Amelia Rose
Cold winds beat the rock
That juts from the sea where,
The harsh waves chip at the protrusions
That resiliently hold their own.
High above,
The seacliff stands tall; erect
Proud
Mingling with the winds
And slashing through the clouds
That drift serenely eastward
Minding their own business.
The deep mist of dawn
Hangs in the air; intensifying
The density that chokes;
Almost suffocates;
Warding off unwanted visitors
From this sacred, holy place.
A sliver of sunlight
Pierces through the pervading mist
Illuminates a crevice
Too high up to swim to
Too far down to reach by land
A spark; a glint of light
Refracts from within
Shines for just a moment
And is gone just as quickly.
Echoes of death swirl mysteriously
From the depths within the cave
Caught by the wind, carried to the sea
Washed onto the shores of sentience, feeling; life.
Known mystery reverberates
In steady rhythm
Upon the metal of a gate
Perfect metal that never tarnishes
Never rusts, never ceases
To guard its charge
With every sense of duty, honor and purpose
A seagate can have.
Tall and imposing (but secretly not)
From within the gate’s unknowing watch
The secrets escape the rock
By: Amelia Rose
Cold winds beat the rock
That juts from the sea where,
The harsh waves chip at the protrusions
That resiliently hold their own.
High above,
The seacliff stands tall; erect
Proud
Mingling with the winds
And slashing through the clouds
That drift serenely eastward
Minding their own business.
The deep mist of dawn
Hangs in the air; intensifying
The density that chokes;
Almost suffocates;
Warding off unwanted visitors
From this sacred, holy place.
A sliver of sunlight
Pierces through the pervading mist
Illuminates a crevice
Too high up to swim to
Too far down to reach by land
A spark; a glint of light
Refracts from within
Shines for just a moment
And is gone just as quickly.
Echoes of death swirl mysteriously
From the depths within the cave
Caught by the wind, carried to the sea
Washed onto the shores of sentience, feeling; life.
Known mystery reverberates
In steady rhythm
Upon the metal of a gate
Perfect metal that never tarnishes
Never rusts, never ceases
To guard its charge
With every sense of duty, honor and purpose
A seagate can have.
Tall and imposing (but secretly not)
From within the gate’s unknowing watch
The secrets escape the rock
Monday, May 25, 2009
Poetry.
Poetry.
You know, more often then not
It's pure imagination
Even the most vivid descriptions
Are nothing more than fantasies;
Desires
The poet hasn't really experienced
The events that transpire
But you'd never know it
By reading his recollections.
I admit,
Sometimes there are experiences
So wonderful; surreal
That they must be recorded
Within the perameters of a poem
More often then not though
The record is symbolic
Each image representing
A thought, feeling or even a passing whim
I love my own poetry
More than anyone else's
Because I know what each symbol stands for
For me, my poetry is a photograph
Of what I was feeling and experiencing
At the time
And while I love the poetry of others,
I only understand some things
And my insights are limited
But, when I do recognize
And understand their intentions,
It makes reading the poem
That much more fulfilling
As I said before,
Poetry is a photograph
But not in the typical way
Unlike real photographs,
Each person who reads a poem
Takes something different from it;
Something they can relate to,
That corresponds
With where they are in life.
In this way, above all else,
Poetry is unique
For it transforms
Not only the writer
But also the reader,
And makes him
A poet too.
You know, more often then not
It's pure imagination
Even the most vivid descriptions
Are nothing more than fantasies;
Desires
The poet hasn't really experienced
The events that transpire
But you'd never know it
By reading his recollections.
I admit,
Sometimes there are experiences
So wonderful; surreal
That they must be recorded
Within the perameters of a poem
More often then not though
The record is symbolic
Each image representing
A thought, feeling or even a passing whim
I love my own poetry
More than anyone else's
Because I know what each symbol stands for
For me, my poetry is a photograph
Of what I was feeling and experiencing
At the time
And while I love the poetry of others,
I only understand some things
And my insights are limited
But, when I do recognize
And understand their intentions,
It makes reading the poem
That much more fulfilling
As I said before,
Poetry is a photograph
But not in the typical way
Unlike real photographs,
Each person who reads a poem
Takes something different from it;
Something they can relate to,
That corresponds
With where they are in life.
In this way, above all else,
Poetry is unique
For it transforms
Not only the writer
But also the reader,
And makes him
A poet too.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Gazing Through the Looking Glass
By: Amelia Rose
Gazing through the looking glass
Through the windows of my soul
I wonder what the mirror
Thinks of what it sees
As it looks upon me daily
As sand pours through the hour glass
And time ticks steadily on
All the while, my heart beats in its rhythm
Like the waves upon the seas
I wonder what reflects
From the depths within my soul
I wonder what escapes
As I peer at myself
Through slitted eyes
And stare into them to search
For what questions may arise
What secrets leak out?
What stories are told?
What do my eyes confide?
This I wonder as I open them more wide
Gazing through the looking glass
Through the windows of my soul
I search for me; myself;
The hidden truths that make me whole
By: Amelia Rose
Gazing through the looking glass
Through the windows of my soul
I wonder what the mirror
Thinks of what it sees
As it looks upon me daily
As sand pours through the hour glass
And time ticks steadily on
All the while, my heart beats in its rhythm
Like the waves upon the seas
I wonder what reflects
From the depths within my soul
I wonder what escapes
As I peer at myself
Through slitted eyes
And stare into them to search
For what questions may arise
What secrets leak out?
What stories are told?
What do my eyes confide?
This I wonder as I open them more wide
Gazing through the looking glass
Through the windows of my soul
I search for me; myself;
The hidden truths that make me whole
Friday, May 8, 2009
So I have found a way to smuggle crap outa the AP Tests. yeah.
Current mood: devious
lol I spent my AP Calc Test writing poetry because I was bored & then i wanted to keep the poems i wrote instead of just having them thrown out. So, ingeniously i wrote them on a tissue and no one even noticed as i wadded it up and put it in my pocket before they collected our tests! lol i know, i'm brilliant. =)
so here are my AP Calc-Inspired poems from a tissue:
Sunshine of Peace
By Amelia Rose
Watching the sunshine
Dance in the trees
Incandescent as the love
That brings me to my knees
Each day as I pray
Makes me wonder...
What if,
When all is said and done,
Time doesn't matter
Nor the hearts you've won
What if,
When the skies turn to gray
What if,
As night fades from day
What if,
The peace
That yet for so long
Has evaded this world
This time and generation
Is there in the sunshine
Has been there, this whole dispensation
But we take no notice
As we rush about our lives
While goodness, morality, integrity;
Hope.
Only just survives...
Poem #2
I hear...
Laughter
Laughter of youth
Frivolous pleasure
Which entertains
But does not last
I see...
Loneliness
Pain, Hatred, Envy
Malice;
Fear.
Repressed behind their eyes...
I feel...
Pity
For they don't realize
Don't understand
Don't know
The Truth
Lost in a world devoid of meaning,
Of purpose
Of trust and joy
They wander around
Groping in darkness
For something to hold to
Something; someone
Anything; Anyone
But even when they find it
It gives way under them
For nothing less
Than the fulness of the truth
Can endure forever
Bringing happiness and surety
I hope...
That one day
Love will return to this nation
That lies will cease
Slander and gossip desist to exist
For their sakes, I hope
That the Light and Life
And Truth of the world
May soften their hearts
That they might find joy;
Everlasting, wholesome, pure
I dream...
Current mood: devious
lol I spent my AP Calc Test writing poetry because I was bored & then i wanted to keep the poems i wrote instead of just having them thrown out. So, ingeniously i wrote them on a tissue and no one even noticed as i wadded it up and put it in my pocket before they collected our tests! lol i know, i'm brilliant. =)
so here are my AP Calc-Inspired poems from a tissue:
Sunshine of Peace
By Amelia Rose
Watching the sunshine
Dance in the trees
Incandescent as the love
That brings me to my knees
Each day as I pray
Makes me wonder...
What if,
When all is said and done,
Time doesn't matter
Nor the hearts you've won
What if,
When the skies turn to gray
What if,
As night fades from day
What if,
The peace
That yet for so long
Has evaded this world
This time and generation
Is there in the sunshine
Has been there, this whole dispensation
But we take no notice
As we rush about our lives
While goodness, morality, integrity;
Hope.
Only just survives...
Poem #2
I hear...
Laughter
Laughter of youth
Frivolous pleasure
Which entertains
But does not last
I see...
Loneliness
Pain, Hatred, Envy
Malice;
Fear.
Repressed behind their eyes...
I feel...
Pity
For they don't realize
Don't understand
Don't know
The Truth
Lost in a world devoid of meaning,
Of purpose
Of trust and joy
They wander around
Groping in darkness
For something to hold to
Something; someone
Anything; Anyone
But even when they find it
It gives way under them
For nothing less
Than the fulness of the truth
Can endure forever
Bringing happiness and surety
I hope...
That one day
Love will return to this nation
That lies will cease
Slander and gossip desist to exist
For their sakes, I hope
That the Light and Life
And Truth of the world
May soften their hearts
That they might find joy;
Everlasting, wholesome, pure
I dream...
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