Thoughts of you
Current mood: busy

Busy as ever, although things aren't as manic a they were before Christmas!! Thankfully. Writing as feverishly as possible, whenever possible but I've I've gone and signed myself up for a degree in Business Law with the OU (Open University for those who don't know) so I'm expecting things to get manic again very soon!

 Ah well, that's life I expect. Though I'd post something a littel different today. It's a short story developed from a short poem I wrote last year. As always, all points of view are welcome (I'm a a big girl, I can take it )

Thoughts of you

            There was nothing obsessional about my love, it was just pure and unadulterated. Hungry. It was so hungry that it had to be fed daily. Stolen pictures weren't enough. I had to see her daily from behind the wall beside the bus stop, the shop door opposite the park, the cars in the supermarket car park. Although her smile plagued me and her smell destroyed me, each night, alone, I seemed to forget her face so I had to see her the next day and remind myself.

How sweet the reminder was, how releasing to watch her walk, confident, almost cocksure about her beauty, and when she smiled, god, when she smiled she was radiant. That pure, wide, white smile could touch me from a thousand miles. The way her lips parted, pink and round spreading into each soft, dewy cheek, slipping across the pure whiteness of her teeth. My heart cried when she smiled and I burned all over. I burned for her to touch me and I burned, desperately, to touch her. The heat engulfed me and made me tingle so violently it was frightening. At times I needed, urgently, to reach down and cool the hub of the throbbing, soothe the heat away so that I could think again, so that I could see again. She did this to me.

Each time I left the wall beside the bus stop, the shop door opposite the park, the cars in the supermarket car park I'd leave feeling lost. Some part of me had been abandoned there and I had to return for it, daily. Although, deep down, I thought that maybe someday I'd be able to collect the fragments of my soul that I had lost in those moments and push them back I knew that they were lost in her. They were lost in her smile, her smell, the stretch of her limbs as she walked and the caress of her long, long hair across her back.

I needed to be near her in ways that nobody understood. This emotion went beyond the carnal desires of flesh and bone. This devotion was spiritual. Nobody understood that time could be such a tease. She could divide two souls in ways so unimaginably cruel. But wasn't that the challenge of life itself? Wasn't over coming the seemingly insurmountable obstacles the very challenge of life?

            There is nothing obsessional about my love. It's pure, uncontaminated. There is nothing pharmaceutical that I can push down my throat that will blur the sharpness of my emotion. There is nothing that could be prescribed that can break the fever when it's at its peak. Despite what they said she did this to me. She did this to me with her wiry thighs and her soft lashes, her quiet voice and her long fingers. She made the thunder in my head roar until nothing else could be heard. Nothing else could be heard except the constant echo of her name. She made my heart trumpet. She made me tremble, she even made me cry, at times, when I thought about how sweet it would be, one day, when our lips would meet and the fire would be doused in her cool, cool kisses.

            From the wall beside the bus stop, the shop door opposite the park, the cars in the supermarket car park I would stand and watch her, in the darkness of shadows created by the falling sun. It was the only way to release the hunger. It was all I had when the electricity in my body weakened my bones and made me restless.

I wrote for her. She was my inspiration, my muse. She awakened something dormant inside me that had to be expressed. I could paint her smile in my mind a thousand times a day and the soft rumble of her laughter, like music, reverberated off the walls of my mind, hourly,  yet I couldn't remember enough of her each night to ease the frustration, so I wrote for her instead.

 I wrote my pain and my desperation feverishly, the pen sometimes, pressed so deeply into the white of the paper that the ink, sometimes, would bleed and then the paper would tear.

The next day I would stand by the wall beside the bus stop, the shop door opposite the park, the cars in the supermarket car park, clutching my desperation and my hope in my sweat stained fist wishing that I could pass my words over to her and make her understand that there was nothing obsessional about this love.

Once, long ago, I had succumbed to the desperation and had thought it better to leave this life. The cruelty of Fate meant that I would have to live, oppressed, forever. I knew there were only two ways to stop the tidal wave that consumed me daily and being barred from one I felt forced down the other.

I had expected death to be swift. I had expected him to swoop in, snatch my life away and deliver my soul wherever he saw fit, but death is a liar. He promises excuse from pain but all I felt in the moments close to the final seconds was torture as my life ebbed away in streams of red. It was in those moments that it became clear to me. There, truthfully, was only one way to stop the tidal wave that consumed me daily.

I had needed to see her then. I had needed to refuel my weakened spirit with her smile, and open and sore I had made my way to the wall besides the bus stop outside her house. I had stood there for what could have been eternity thinking each step through before I dared take them, paper clutched in my sweat stained fist. Several cars had sped past and when the light had stopped dancing on their metallic sheen I had crossed the road, tentative but excited, paper clutched in my sweat stained fist.

 Although I was open and still sore I knew that if I shared at least one thought with her, one word… the pain that was everywhere could ease.

I had pushed through her gates and made my way up her pathway, enthralled that I was so close to the doorway of what could be heaven, paper clutched in my sweat stained fist.

I knew the words like I knew the heat of the sun. I had woken form the precipice of death and heard them reverberating in my head and felt, instantly, that she had to know them too. If my tongue were not so tied and my mind not so scrambled in moments of urgency I could recite it to her but I knew this would never be so.

At her door, green with intricate gold handle, I had paused and thought my words through

       The rain cannot erase my thoughts of you

though, tirelessly, she tries to soak me through.

Immersed in sadness I have seen that few

have drowned and known this darkest shade of blue.

Would she understand my intentions?

The rain cannot control the pain I feel

to wish, my wounds, it's water touch could heal,

to wish its weight, my resting place, could seal

to cloak sensations I am bound to feel

Would she believe what I had done to myself just to be inches from her breath? Would she understand that there was nothing obsessional about this love?

The rain cannot replace my thoughts of you,

Though, tirelessly, she tries to soak me through,

deceive me to believe her shine is dew

settled on the dawn of a morning new.

Would she know that I had tried to stop it but it was all beyond me and she, she had done this to me?

            Before I could knock on the green door it had flown open. The face behind it that had emerged from the light was so much like hers that I had jumped back startled. But this face gnarled by time and stress, was twisted and darkened with rage, eyebrows dug deep into forehead.

            "Keep away from her!" It's mouth had screeched, and I had shrunk back terrified, "Keep away from her you filthy bastard, you sick pervert she's only eleven years old!"

I had turned sharply and run back up the pathway, dropping the paper stained with the ink of my desperations, wet with my very own blood. I had run into the cushion of night, frantic and anxious to find the anonymity I had owned seconds before, but had been stopped by the sound of sirens. Her mother had called the police.

7:46 PM - 12 Comments - 14 Kudos - Add Comment

A child's guardian
Current mood: calm
Category: Writing and Poetry

I watched you cross the road this morning,

my heart stalled in my chest.

With nonchalance and a little arrogance you sauntered off the edge,

stepped into this stretch of destiny we had yet to explore

turned and smiled, self-assured and unafraid

determined to show me your wings.

I imagined a thousand reasons why I could not let you go,

supported by a million feelings why I could not let you go.

You paused and waved,

I paused, then waivered

I imagined a hundred reasons why I could not let you go.

You knew the road was busy, cars passed, quickly, blindly

too involved in the evolution of their own existences

to notice your newness,

yet the light of your determination twinkled in your eyes

and the shine of forced admiration plumped my cheeks.

My heart swelled in my chest.

Steadily, certainly you reached the other side

and some kind of understanding settled in your soul

you knew that you could fly.

I knew that you could fly

but I felt the only reason why I could not let you go

10:01 PM - 33 Comments - 29 Kudos - Add Comment

Signs of affection
Current mood: determined
Category: Writing and Poetry

 Still busy! Trying to combine work, writing, studying and parenting! Hopefully emphasising on the writing a little more this year and aiming to enter as many comps as a creative woman can manage!  If anyhting exciting happens I'll be sure to fill you guys in but for now here's a little offering from my poetic alter ego!

More prose than poetry its just a little personal insight on a different kind of love, produced after over indulging in the grapes of wrath  (wine to you and I!)

Signs of affection

The daily chronicle of our existence may read like a mundane tale

a story whose ending is foretold long before the breaking of the first page,

or the eager devouring of the first lines

There may be no real revelations, or moments of epiphany when the essence of who we are beams through like the light of a new morning, luminescent in its clarity

but there is something to be said for the quietness of predictability…

Every dawn brings the expectation of your body lain beside mine, thighs entwined, skins pressed together at any given opportunity, breathes combined in the inches between our lips

Every day is filled with the unspoken terms of our devotion, the silent codes of affection, the phone call that says 'I miss you', the smile that says 'I love you', that familiar touch that says 'always'

Every night, before the moons light makes a mystery of ordinary things, we kiss in the way we have always done, secure in the arms of one another, sure that when our story ends we have known all of each other

As valid as the tempestuous cravings of the hearts of the star crossed lovers, and the insatiable desire of the self proclaimed Casanova, our quiet love rumbles on, certain that we were made for one another

11:17 PM - 10 Comments - 18 Kudos - Add Comment

Legendary
Current mood: bouncy
Category: Writing and Poetry

We will meet and I will love you

almost impetuously

I will need and I will want you

with the utmost intensity

I will lose myself in your eyes

only to find myself, in your touch,

a woman

a goddess

a temptress

a slut

a cad

 a tempter

a god

a man

only to find yourself, to be touched

adrift in the lure of my eyes

humbled by my luminosity.

I will lead and I will haunt you

our bond, legendary

bittersweet, electric, but true

Busy, as ever! Still writing, still dreaming, still parenting, still working but at least still me!

Before New Year kicks in and 'resolution' fever takes over I've already decided to make plans for 07 which involve taking myself seriously as a writer! Being short-listed for the 'SlingInk' short story competition (didn't win it!) has forced me to re-evaluate my writing priorities and I've zeroed in on a few competitions that are running next year for novelists, poets and artistic folk in general!

Hope all you guys are doing great! LOL This MySpace detox is killing me but time and babies permitting hopefully I'll be blogging and commenting again soon!!

8:47 AM - 13 Comments - 21 Kudos - Add Comment

Poetry in Motion
Current mood: creative
Category: Writing and Poetry

Hopefully this works!

I have the day off work and instead of succumbing to the joys of parenthood I decided to waste time and do something much more enjoyable!!!

The link below will lead you to another avenue of my creative insanity!

Enjoy

Passions Slaves

If this thing is misbehaving I have to apologise I'm new at all this video stuff!!

4:01 PM - 9 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

Slow
Current mood: crazy
Category: Writing and Poetry

and it continues! Who knew life could be so hectic, so mad? I wait patiently for a quiet moment when I can just breathe!

Until then....

The hours past faster than the minutes

the minutes evolve before  seconds can grow

the days flash by like lightening

and the night disappears like smoke

the breaths that I take evaporate to nothing

dreamless sleep is the only sleep that I know

dreamlike I wander through this mist

demystified about the glories of success

maddened by the catastrophe of this pace

of this life

knowing that only silence loves me best.

And I find silence resides in my centre

still a haven

still a retreat

and I would rush there, this very instance

if only life would return to me, my feet

11:10 PM - 24 Comments - 40 Kudos - Add Comment

Of all things
Current mood: stressed
Category: Writing and Poetry

LOL! Firstly I have to apologise for not being a better myspacer! I'm still pursuing publication, vying for a pay rise at work, decorating the house and finishing of some coursework for my homestudy course, I also lost my car last week (a freak accident means the engine blew up whilst on the motor way!! )

I wish I could focus more on the publishing as encouragement from my myspace friends has really helped my confidence. An email from the submissions editor at 'Biscuit International publishing' also placed a huge smile on my face and I've received note from 'Sling Ink' about being longlisted in one of their comps.

Although biscuit are not accepting any submissions a word of encouragement and praise have definately put me in good spirits!

It's been a while, but with the mind continuously disturbed by demanding children it gets harder and harder to produce!

So here we are! Forgive the love vibe. I'm a cancerian, it's in the blood.

Of all things I could devoutly wish for

I have wished for you

and despite the foolishness of such hopes and the fantasy of such dreams

it seems that nothing can silence the throb of desire in my veins

when I am in heat for you

yet if I ask the universe

when?

when will it be

that I can experience the brush of your fingers

through my hair or the invitation of your lips on my face?

it seems

that I am somewhat selfish

and somehow desperate

yet how can desperation know end from start,

when this need is embedded so deep in my heart?

and this depth has eroded so much of my soul

and I know that there is little sense in this

less logic than the flight of the bee

but how can I resist the impression

 of the imaginary kiss that satiates, temporarily, the longing

born at dawn,

nurtured through the day

 only to make insomnia my nightly companion?

And if I were to denounce the temperance of my prophetic soul

and ignore the heckling of my heart

what good would it do me?

when I am empty and alone

unloaded of the ache to which this love has me

so tightly bound?

For without you,

what

or indeed who would I be?

9:48 AM - 20 Comments - 31 Kudos - Add Comment

Here
Current mood: tired
Category: Writing and Poetry

Can you feel the roll of my heartbeat?

Like thunder across the plain

Can you feel its rising rumble?

Its almighty shout.

Does yours echo its drum?

Knowing

it has been without?

We have marched amongst the desperate

We

my heart and I,

desolate that our desires

had somehow misfired

disintegrated

and died.

Can you feel the pulse of my hearts speech?

Does it equate to yours?

When its growl reflects the ferocity of my needs

does yours quieten in anticipated

pause?

Do you know the determination of this hearts beat?

Its quake has split lands and parted seas

Its waves have quashed the fire of Gods

and it will not rest till you are

here

with me

11:21 PM - 27 Comments - 39 Kudos - Add Comment

Journey's End
Current mood: thoughtful
Category: Writing and Poetry

Maybe our time together is momentary

and not the monumental entity we thought it would be

in the early stages of our lust,

running before we had ground to walk,

we mapped a journey to the heavens

and built a rocket ship fuelled by the

combustible energy of all our passions.

We were defiantly certain,

dizzy from the velocity of our escape from

loneliness,

that we would find a corner plot in this Universe

on which to build our own solar system

where you would be the Sun

and I the Moon, would be

the mother of many a little star.

Somehow, on our way

our map was misplaced and you,

infernal with pride,

refused to ask for directions

especially from me

whose fire was slightly inferior to the blaze

of your inferno.

Still persistence would not pave way for defeat

and through the weight of darkness,

undeterred by the ferocity of many a Martian,

or the displays of all of Venus's finery,

we managed to find a Solar System

where you were the Sun

and I your Moon, the mother of our stars,

made adventure of the obscurity

in the absence of your light.

But the journey, and all its complications,

has left us bruised

and once where I understood the cycle of our

existence,

the evolution of our bond,

this eternal race to eclipse one another

has us planets apart.

Still the solar system feels too small

and there is little space for gargantuan ambitions

that do nothing to fill the chasm of emptiness  

when you are gone

and I,

The moon

have to make adventure of the darkness

so our stars will know peace

in the absence of your light.

D.E. Sackey

Copyright 04/09/2006

8:29 AM - 43 Comments - 50 Kudos - Add Comment

TAGGED AGAIN :-))
Category: Friends

5 Questions, 5 Answers...

You know the rules...five questions, five answers, politely "tag" five other Bloggers to answer the same five questions on their Blog and don't forget to mention who "tagged" you, so it all stays connected...

Thanks to both Ali  (my taggers)!

Question 1: If you had the chance to have a private conversation with any 5 people (dead or alive), who would you choose to chat with?

... 1) Shakespeare, because he's the best, ever. I'd grill him about Hamlet because it's my favourite... ever!!

... 2) Einstein... what's it like in that brain of yours huh? .l/

... 3) Oprah- Because she's OPRAH! OMG, Imagine the conversation!

... 4) Ghandi- Just to be around his aura, to experience his calmness and to feed off his spirit!

... 5) Wenty Miller- Where've you been all my life?

Question 2: If you could get rid of one characteristic in mankind, which one would it be?

Ignorance , because I believe a lot of the worlds problems are borne out of ignorance.


Question 3: If I could grant you unrestricted access for 24 hours to anywhere in the world, where would you go and what would you do?

OMG ! That's just not enough time! I'm torn between a 24 hour supermarket trolley dash at Nieman Marcus and ... yeah that!

I can be very superficial sometimes.

I blame Prada!


Question 4: What 5 luxuries do you feel you absolutely need in your Life?
Ali nailed a couple of them but I'd have to say

My Computer

My Car

My Books

Anything that plays music!

Definately a pen/pencil or writing apparatus!!

Question 5: Who are you "tagging" in this round of 5x5?

Play fair now people!

Risa (don't hate me )

Tara (where are you girl?)

David (I can't see you but let's see what gets u ticking )

Greg

Jules (I'm intrigued!)

9:28 PM - 8 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment