Leann's
February 2009
Sketch Notes
is my
Website's
seasonal page
where I can
just get
creative and
have fun.
In This Issue-
Note: The original
writings and
cartoons are
copyrighted,
belong to those
who created
them, and should
not be used in
any way without
their permission.
writings and
cartoons are
copyrighted,
belong to those
who created
them, and should
not be used in
any way without
their permission.
The Book Mark
I Can't Go On By George J. Carroll Do not push me Or brush me aside. I ache for love, With you at my side. My heart is fragile Which you always break. I'm not a play thing To give but you forsake. Don't ride me As pleasure soon lost. I have my feelings, Which you have tossed. I can't go on, Must end this charade. My heart yearns for love, Not a masquerade. |
Words Not Spoken By George J. Carroll Can words not spoken, Lift the weight of regret? For the loss of love Is what it begets. Feed your lovers heart, Don't starve it to death. She's yearning to know How your love is set. Engrave on her heart The words I love you. And speak them softly, Till she says I do. And remember in life As together your walk. To hug her and love her And utter love's talk. |
True Love By Larry D. Matthews True love is unconditional Of many different emotions Love is never traditional All types with different potions Blind to another’s faults You give with all your heart Secrets in hidden vaults You hope to never part Lust that turns to warmth Desire that converts to need No way compared to wealth On love spirits feed It floats on gentle breeze Caressing open hearts Uncontrolled as a sneeze Consuming fire starts Your life no longer yours As others now come first Even as life’s rain pours Never quenching inner thirst To others you commit Good times and in bad Wonder why God would permit Them to be so sad As you struggle to improve Their lot in life each day Pray for God to move Their life along His way. |
"While in the military I was away from my love and this poem is in remembrance of those times.... Absence does make the heart grow fonder!" Good Night My Love By Larry D. Matthews To lovers apart Good Night My Love Good night my love, I think of thee As I dream my soul will flee Through the clouds oh so free Your lovely face I hope to see. Over land so far apart But always close here in my heart As I dream in slumber’s cart My spirit has a trip to start. To take my love like golden strand And wrap your heart with gentle hand Music plays like Heaven’s band As our spirits frolic above the land. Lonely can seem so far away Thinking of you every day But at night let our spirits play As so in love we both will stay ! Nov 2nd 2005 |
a one hour kiss along the perimetres of everywhere by anessa blaine Rated "PG" by the Author. i never know where to st.art. but my heart resigns itself to yours in between beatings, meandering along the boundary of could and the razorwired should. a prisoner to a captivating soul. four nights; we felt and fell fragile in the frame of such longing, the feathery black outlines of our bodies in such love st.r.uck gasping clouds. fluttering lashes falling temperatures fragrant sounds. .. . i remember the wind. and the smooth ceiling, stretching, far above us, so small and sighing. the world seemed to arch its own back. … pushing the feel of you, under my fingers velveteen skin and ink of hallowed creatures; blue black like nightseas and where the end of night reaches past horizons; the line that travels smooth, palms open, along the sides of your ribs. the path of your hips. the rose of our lips, blooming despite the winter looming. blankets crumbled; pillows thrown askew with kisses that complete the length of all existence….. in quiet coiling, your arms felt like a folded universe in which i only belong. to the wind again, outside and inside your echo seen so vividly, i can understand how i throw my body to your eager thumbprints. you understand this union; a soft cell compress.ion of trembles and sickles, suckles filled with honey and limbs still bending silhouettes, like we were nothing more than the time we took to undress, in a rush of cotton and a slowdrift of hurried whispers. still, the shush of you dies in my hands. i try to capture the moment like a butterfly and the wings are still quivering; i let it go. i let it go and feel the free s.pace of us loosen such constrictive tongues that dart among the wild things, lost and loving the abandon. i carry the trace of your tipped fingerbrush along my shoulders; two pebbles cast into the water of an open ocean, as your breath ripples, cripples my earth in its graceful circle, of faith in the heart of one such like truth. i can barely sustain the giving. as always, my song marries your silence. |
Valentine's Day or Saint Valentine's Day is a holiday celebrated on February 14.
In the Americas and Europe, it is the traditional day on which lovers express
their love for each other by sending Valentine's cards, presenting flowers, or
offering confectionery. The holiday is named after two among the numerous
Early Christian martyrs named Valentine. The day became associated with
romantic love in the circle of Geoffrey Chaucer in the High Middle Ages, when
the tradition of courtly love flourished.
The day is most closely associated with the mutual exchange of love notes in the
form of "valentines." Modern Valentine symbols include the heart-shaped
outline, doves, and the figure of the winged Cupid. Since the 19th century,
handwritten notes have largely given way to mass-produced greeting cards.
The sending of Valentines was a fashion in nineteenth-century Great Britain, and,
in 1847, Esther Howland developed a successful business in her Worcester,
Massachusetts home with hand-made Valentine cards based on British models.
The popularity of Valentine cards in 19th-century America was a harbinger of the
future commercialization of holidays in the United States.
The U.S. Greeting Card Association estimates that approximately one billion
valentines are sent each year worldwide, making the day the second largest
card-sending holiday of the year behind Christmas. The association estimates that
women purchase approximately 85 percent of all valentines.
In the Americas and Europe, it is the traditional day on which lovers express
their love for each other by sending Valentine's cards, presenting flowers, or
offering confectionery. The holiday is named after two among the numerous
Early Christian martyrs named Valentine. The day became associated with
romantic love in the circle of Geoffrey Chaucer in the High Middle Ages, when
the tradition of courtly love flourished.
The day is most closely associated with the mutual exchange of love notes in the
form of "valentines." Modern Valentine symbols include the heart-shaped
outline, doves, and the figure of the winged Cupid. Since the 19th century,
handwritten notes have largely given way to mass-produced greeting cards.
The sending of Valentines was a fashion in nineteenth-century Great Britain, and,
in 1847, Esther Howland developed a successful business in her Worcester,
Massachusetts home with hand-made Valentine cards based on British models.
The popularity of Valentine cards in 19th-century America was a harbinger of the
future commercialization of holidays in the United States.
The U.S. Greeting Card Association estimates that approximately one billion
valentines are sent each year worldwide, making the day the second largest
card-sending holiday of the year behind Christmas. The association estimates that
women purchase approximately 85 percent of all valentines.
Traditional symbols of Valentine's Day
include hearts, doves, Cupid, and love
notes.
American postcard, circa 1900.
include hearts, doves, Cupid, and love
notes.
American postcard, circa 1900.
Valentine's Day from Wikipedia, the free online encyclopedia
No
worse
could
befall
me
Than
a love
filled
with
folly
worse
could
befall
me
Than
a love
filled
with
folly
There is no other word, no other emotion that has
the raw power of Love. It alone has the ability to stir
up every other emotion explored by humankind
(and perhaps even a few previously uncharted
ones) along with the capacity to render its givers,
its receivers, its backers, enthusiasts,
"wannabeeinnits", misrepresentatives, devotees,
followers, addicts, champions, failures, groupies
and victims either possessed with total fulfillment
and joy—or laid out broken, bleeding, and charred
somewhere down within the smoldering, searing
fire pits of Hell.
There is puppy love; there is arduous love. (Or did I
mean amorous?) There is love of self, love of
family, love of sesame chicken. Some people are in
love with love, some hate to love, and there are even
those who love to hate. Love can bring out the best
in us. Its complications can bring out the worst.
There are so many kinds of love, in fact, that
sometimes it seems that to say “I love you” doesn’t
quite explain everything that’s in our hearts
anymore—doesn’t do justice to the meaning we
used to hold behind those three little words. There
must be some way to explain how we really feel—to
hammer home to our lovers, spouses, significant
others, ourselves and the rest of the general
population just what the genuine significance of
Love is as a Reality. The Truth about Love. Well,
there is. That’s where poetry comes in: There is
nothing more revealing about the soul, more
utterly intimate than verse shaped within the heart.
What better time or venue to explore this strange
and wonderful state than here in the February
Sketch Notes?
So sit back and enjoy the wise words of these dear
men and women; read them and nod knowingly,
laugh, perhaps even weep--take them to heart; but
never EVER, Dear Reader, take them lightly.
the raw power of Love. It alone has the ability to stir
up every other emotion explored by humankind
(and perhaps even a few previously uncharted
ones) along with the capacity to render its givers,
its receivers, its backers, enthusiasts,
"wannabeeinnits", misrepresentatives, devotees,
followers, addicts, champions, failures, groupies
and victims either possessed with total fulfillment
and joy—or laid out broken, bleeding, and charred
somewhere down within the smoldering, searing
fire pits of Hell.
There is puppy love; there is arduous love. (Or did I
mean amorous?) There is love of self, love of
family, love of sesame chicken. Some people are in
love with love, some hate to love, and there are even
those who love to hate. Love can bring out the best
in us. Its complications can bring out the worst.
There are so many kinds of love, in fact, that
sometimes it seems that to say “I love you” doesn’t
quite explain everything that’s in our hearts
anymore—doesn’t do justice to the meaning we
used to hold behind those three little words. There
must be some way to explain how we really feel—to
hammer home to our lovers, spouses, significant
others, ourselves and the rest of the general
population just what the genuine significance of
Love is as a Reality. The Truth about Love. Well,
there is. That’s where poetry comes in: There is
nothing more revealing about the soul, more
utterly intimate than verse shaped within the heart.
What better time or venue to explore this strange
and wonderful state than here in the February
Sketch Notes?
So sit back and enjoy the wise words of these dear
men and women; read them and nod knowingly,
laugh, perhaps even weep--take them to heart; but
never EVER, Dear Reader, take them lightly.
| Words of Love |
Up In The Attic Again By Stephen Pollard An excerpt from his book, The Journey Through My Life The lights are on again Up in the attic again She is up there looking again Searching thru memories again Ever since he left her life She has just kept out of sight He will never come home again She wonders where does she begin To soothe over her shocking loss Goes to the attic to get lost Reliving memories romantic The lights are on up in the attic |
Dreaming You By Lisa Adams "This was inspired by a photograph from a collection of photos of soldiers who fought at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania during the Civil War. It was a young man, in his twenties, sitting on a stone fence posing with two other men from his unit. The young man wore a union hat with gold braids, but the remainder of his uniform was somewhat ragged. I pondered what his last happy memory had been, and then, what his lover would do once she found he was among the 51,000 killed during those three brutal days of July in 1863. The man reminded me of someone I admire Very Much." When I see you in my dreams, is it real? When my fingertips touch your lips and eyelashes? When my lips brush your cheek, then your lips return the kiss only deeper, is that real? When your flesh meets mine, your hands in my hair and all over my body, is that real? The last time I saw you, you sat atop that stone fence, Floppy hat with that fancy twist of gold Slight smile Sandy blonde hair water eyes...moustache that was new... Who is he? That lean, muscled frame and those...hands. Was the smile for me? The two behind him were staring, too. At me? Did I dream you...again? Naked under the waterfall, shallow pool, you turned and smiled at me. God I love that smile so like my own. So inviting to the touch. A gentle hand rests now on my shoulder. "Come home, dear, you have to prepare," the woman said. I don't recall screaming after my hand touched your face. After all, it was so cold. And you...are not...cold...at...all. And tonight, I pray for the dream Where again your lips are warm and your touch...a furnace. God I have missed you. Please come see me again. One dream is worth more than a blink of you cold. Lover Beloved Please come again.I have grown so tired of the tears, and I don't want to go cold inside like the others. |
Leann has Rated February Sketch Notes PG 13
| Valentines old, Valentines new; Love's precious wishes all here for you... |
| Remember the crepe paper-covered shoebox mailboxes we made in grade school for exchanging Valentines with our classmates? Here is a Garden of Valentines all for you! |
Face By Ron Lynch Chalice an excerpt from Kiss the Breath of Sunset Woke up this morning Your face was beside me All of my worries Left so far behind me You've awakened my heart You've dropped into my dreams You've brought me the wisdom of eighty The passion of seventeen I don't eat any more I've no need for sleep I want you forever To share my castle keep With a seven-year-hold's wonder I look forward to each day I am excited, exhilarated By each word that you say You touch me, you sense me Overwhelm me with your care A lifetime together Is the best thing we can share. |
Love will find its way
Through paths where wolves would fear to
prey,
And if it dares enough 'twere hard
If passion met not some reward.
--Byron
Through paths where wolves would fear to
prey,
And if it dares enough 'twere hard
If passion met not some reward.
--Byron
I know a passion still more deeply charming
That fever'd youth e'er felt; and that is love,
By long experience mellow'd into friendship.
--Thompson
That fever'd youth e'er felt; and that is love,
By long experience mellow'd into friendship.
--Thompson
The wound's invisible
That love's keen arrows make.--Shakespeare
That love's keen arrows make.--Shakespeare
When love's well-timed, 'tis not a fault to love;
The strong, the brave, the virtuous, and the wise,
Sink in the soft captivity together.--Addison
The strong, the brave, the virtuous, and the wise,
Sink in the soft captivity together.--Addison
A lover's like a hunter--
if the game be got with
too much ease he cares not for it.--Mead
if the game be got with
too much ease he cares not for it.--Mead
Love is a pearl of purest hue,
But stormy waves are round it;
And dearly may a woman rue,
The hour that first she found it.
--L.E. Landon
But stormy waves are round it;
And dearly may a woman rue,
The hour that first she found it.
--L.E. Landon
Love is a
Passion
which kindles
honor into
noble acts.
--Dryden
Passion
which kindles
honor into
noble acts.
--Dryden
It warms me, it charms me, To mention but her name;
It heats me, it beats me, And sets me a' on flame. --Burns
It heats me, it beats me, And sets me a' on flame. --Burns
All the passions make us commit faults;
love makes us commit the most ridiculous
ones. --La Rochefoucauld
love makes us commit the most ridiculous
ones. --La Rochefoucauld
To write a good love letter you ought to
begin without knowing what you mean
to say, and to finish without knowing
what you have written.
--Rousseau
begin without knowing what you mean
to say, and to finish without knowing
what you have written.
--Rousseau
Where Love Begins By Poetess Victoria L. McColley In Joy, In Peace, In Grace, In Harmony of Love Tapestry of lover’s perfection; Fingertips of romantic delight; Sweet surrender of whet kisses; Held into the depths of the night… Sing to me this heart of soul; The caresses of desires subdue; Quenching our heated passions; Giving all of myself to you… Weave your words of wisdom; Protect the gates of my heart; Embrace these devote promises; Honoring truth to never be apart… Sing to me sweet erotic surrender; Saturate the ardour of my love within; Let me kiss these desires impassioned; Let me show you where love begins… |
A Lovely Rose By Richard Lee Orey "This poem is lovingly dedicated to... women who have walked the path of domestic abuse and known its pain and suffering and who now have come to know in their hearts and souls that '...all we have in life is Love...'" In flight of day a lovely rose Did speak by subtle sway And stirred a heart so long lain dead No flower could ever stay. But embers did to fire aglow And whispered soft affection And bared a breast to open light In trust and insurrection. How to know the honest Would blush the lovely rose? A teardrop fell in shame and guilt, No blush did it propose. But only tender souls may touch In magic born of heart And dare to dream of times to come When they're not far apart. For all we have in life is Love To give, to share, enhance; Would you deny ourselves A hope? a prayer? a chance? And so my honest heart does ask In lines of rhyming prose If I might share my love with you, My sweet and lovely rose. |
Then By Leann Marshall "For John" There was a time I lived in winter’s Frozen silence Turned my head away When Warmer breezes came tho’ Ripe with roses red Blood of the Earth Fragrant With thoughts of you But I did not know you Then Had not looked Into your eyes And seen my own soul There Safe in the boughs Of your essence Where robins Learn to sing Reflected back Shining Joyous Because of you And there was no Going back For in my mind There was no “then” And in my heart We’ve always been |
| February Sketch Notes |
Recently, while surfing the
Internet for various things, I
happened upon a blog site that
blew me away--bittersweet and
inspiring all at once. The
"movie" is incredible.
Since this is a page dedicated
to love, I just had to include a
link to it here.
Internet for various things, I
happened upon a blog site that
blew me away--bittersweet and
inspiring all at once. The
"movie" is incredible.
Since this is a page dedicated
to love, I just had to include a
link to it here.
Karen Hatzigeorgiou's
Strawberry Graham Dessert
1 cup graham cracker crumbs (about 16 squares)
2 tablespoons butter, melted
1 package (3 oz.) strawberry gelatin
1 cup boiling water
1 package (16 oz.) frozen sweetened sliced strawberries, thawed
1 tablespoon lemon juice
4 ounces cream cheese, softened
½ cup confectioner’s sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Dash salt
1 cup whipping cream, whipped
Fresh strawberries and mint leaves, optional for decoration
In a small bowl, combine cracker crumbs and butter; set aside 1 tablespoon for topping.
Press the remaining crumb mixture onto the bottom of a greased 8 inch square baking dish.
Bake at 325 degrees for 10-14 minutes or until golden brown. Cool on a wire rack.
In a bowl, dissolve gelatin in boiling water; stir in strawberries and lemon juice. Refrigerate
until partially set, about 1 to 1 ½ hours.
In a small mixing bowl, beat the cream cheese, sugar, vanilla and salt until smooth. Fold in
whipped cream. Spread half over cooled crust. Cover and refrigerate remaining cream
mixture. Pour gelatin mixture over filling; refrigerate until firm. Top with remaining cream
mixture. Sprinkle with reserved crumb mixture. Refrigerate overnight.
Garnish with fresh berries and mint if desire.
Yield: 9 Servings
1 cup graham cracker crumbs (about 16 squares)
2 tablespoons butter, melted
1 package (3 oz.) strawberry gelatin
1 cup boiling water
1 package (16 oz.) frozen sweetened sliced strawberries, thawed
1 tablespoon lemon juice
4 ounces cream cheese, softened
½ cup confectioner’s sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Dash salt
1 cup whipping cream, whipped
Fresh strawberries and mint leaves, optional for decoration
In a small bowl, combine cracker crumbs and butter; set aside 1 tablespoon for topping.
Press the remaining crumb mixture onto the bottom of a greased 8 inch square baking dish.
Bake at 325 degrees for 10-14 minutes or until golden brown. Cool on a wire rack.
In a bowl, dissolve gelatin in boiling water; stir in strawberries and lemon juice. Refrigerate
until partially set, about 1 to 1 ½ hours.
In a small mixing bowl, beat the cream cheese, sugar, vanilla and salt until smooth. Fold in
whipped cream. Spread half over cooled crust. Cover and refrigerate remaining cream
mixture. Pour gelatin mixture over filling; refrigerate until firm. Top with remaining cream
mixture. Sprinkle with reserved crumb mixture. Refrigerate overnight.
Garnish with fresh berries and mint if desire.
Yield: 9 Servings
| Takes awhile to prepare because you must wait for the gelatin to set, but it's a pretty and fairly easy treat to make for your Valentines--and yourself, too! |
From the 2003 Taste of Home Cookbook--annual recipes.
I Don't Remember By Pam Patterson When does love leave? I don’t remember when I stopped loving him, the first heartbeat that rang hollow, first glance at a stranger. It may have been before the vows, or, perhaps, in the wake of the aftermath. It could have been, after all, a simple illusion, the love after the first love, the dash of reality after the dream dies. It might have been a lie I lived through births and deaths, a crystal lie riddled with tiny cracks where small fissures of truth opened up, distorting the view from within or without. I don’t remember when emotion was neutralized, when it didn’t matter anymore that I don’t remember. |
Vintage Poetry |
| She Walks in Beauty by Lord Byron (George Gordon) She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o’er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express, How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent! |
| Bright Star, Would I were Steadfast as Thou Art by John Keats Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art— Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task Of pure ablution round earth's human shores, Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask Of snow upon the mountains and the moors— No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable, Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast, To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever—or else swoon to death. |
| "Oh, come to me in dreams, my love!" by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley Oh, come to me in dreams, my love! I will not ask a dearer bliss; Come with the starry beams, my love, And press mine eyelids with thy kiss. ’Twas thus, as ancient fables tell, Love visited a Grecian maid, Till she disturbed the sacred spell, And woke to find her hopes betrayed. But gentle sleep shall veil my sight, And Psyche’s lamp shall darkling be, When, in the visions of the night, Thou dost renew thy vows to me. Then come to me in dreams, my love, I will not ask a dearer bliss; Come with the starry beams, my love, And press mine eyelids with thy kiss. |
Happy Valentine's Day By Jeanette Cooper Especially written for my son, but I'd like to dedicate the thought to all who read "Happy Valentine's Day" On this Valentine's Day I wish for you Peace, happiness, joy and love And all the wonderful blessings available From God's great storehouse above. I wish a smile upon your lips Reflecting genuine humor and glee Happiness unfurling in simple pleasures That offer hope and faith for what will be I pray you will always love yourself Find ways to enjoy and appreciate you and your life Persevere to develop and grow To develop spiritually and overcome strife. I hope you will hold true to faith In the love of God, family and friends And be blessed and fulfilled for all you do With all the help God willingly sends. Mother |
The Sitting By Leann Marshall He tilts her head just so, She has remembered the rest: Hands relaxed upon a Book of Verse, Intent in meditation; She brings no light with her, He lifts the shade To the flash of a dove’s wing, The scent of linseed Heavy in the room; Shadows move in silence Grow longer still, He strokes with brush Upon canvas Carefully, like a lover; Studies her in quiet repose (She is too heavy, Her nose too sharp, She is no prize) And chooses burnt sienna For her eyes; Still, she holds herself With certain style, A practiced flair, And with his gift Those other things Will be forgiven; She sighs, A strand of auburn hair Falls down upon Curve of lily throat; He waits, brush lifted, To let her settle. He would love her, Would she let him. |
| Vintage Holiday Crafts |
Articles and Stories: "Words of Love," by Leann Marshall; "Valentine's Day" from
Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia
Poetry: "There" by Gianetta Ellis; "The Sitting" by Leann Marshall; "I Can't Go On" by
George J Carroll; "Words Not Spoken" by George J Carroll; "a one hour kiss along the
perimetres of everywhere" by anessa blaine; "True Love" by Larry D. Matthews; "Goodnight
My Love" by Larry D. Matthews; "Up In The Attic Again" by Stephen Pollard;
"Dreaming You" by Lisa Adams; "Face" by Ron Lynch Chalice; "Where Love Begins" by
Poetess Victoria L. McColley; "A Lovely Rose" by Richard Lee Orey; "Then" by Leann
Marshall; "I Don't Remember" by Pam Patterson; "Love is" by Fee
(Felix LeRoy Perry); "Commitment" by Paul Berube; "Cupid's Busy
Pairing" by Rose Marie Rideout; "Your Presence Lingers
Here" by R.W. Ferland; "First Friend, Best
Friend, Forever Friend" by Donelle Knudsen; "Happy
Valentine's Day" by Jeanette Cooper
A Garden of Valentines, Old and New~
Along with A Selection of Vintage Poetry and
Quotes
Recipes: Strawberry Graham Dessert
Special Link: "Artful Journey" by Karen Hatzigeorgiou
Love Is By: fee (Felix LeRoy Perry) Love is not measured in paper No piece of paper can bind a heart Love comes from a pure feeling Like missing you when we’re apart Love is never hateful or vengeful To be used to get one's own way Love is when two souls become one From that moment neither will stray Love is little things like shared laughter Blowing kisses and tears in the rain Love is understanding and caring Never causing each to feel pain Love is a surprise love letter in waiting That says how your heart beats for me Love is a song on my lips in the morning Knowing this love sets me free Love is the way that my heart beats Whenever I think just of you Love is all of the Valentine’s hearts That are special just to two Love is your heart beside mine Together all through time… |
Commitment by Paul Berube This was a first love. Many moons ago. Sometimes it just doesn't work out. This is short and sweet just as our relationship was. I thought of her today. That wanton smile crashes through my subtleness, with memories forbidden. I gave her my heart. Tore it from its cavity and handed over without question... She needed more. Words were not enough. She wanted commitment. Now and forever... The rush faded quickly. Ultimatums, she gave many. I accepted none. Farewell my sweet, A first love. |
Sweets
for the
Sweet...
for the
Sweet...
| Right-click on this little coupon, print it out, fill it in, and it'll be a fun surprise for your very special Valentine. |
A Very Special Link...
Just For Fun!
| I want to thank you for visiting Sketch Notes this month. This page is dedicated to those warm and creative writers who have shared their hearts with us here, and to those readers who remain most appreciative, including myself. Love to all! |
Don't forget to
Bookmark
Sketch Notes!
Bookmark
Sketch Notes!
There By Gianetta Ellis There’s always been that unnamable but familiar something within you that I knew was mine. It stirs interstitially within my being, whirling and pulsating between my tissues, radiating outward - magnetically searching to connect with that part of itself residing in you. It seeks completeness - potentiality fulfilled - and when you’re too far away it retreats into the ground of me patiently waiting to reemerge in the spring of you. Now, with your return, it cautiously but enthusiastically seeks the surface responding to warmth of an unexplainable kinship - budding ethereally, burgeoning in its essence, absorbing all it had missed, finding wholeness in you. © 2008 |
First Friend, Best Friend, Forever Friend By Donelle Knudsen Linda, my first friend and best friend, meeting on the first day of school. Finger-painting in Dad’s old shirts, sharing crayons and baby dolls. Inseparable, joining Blue Birds and Camp Fire Girls, climbing hills and taking falls. Summers stocked with childhood fun, scaling trees and skinning knees, chasing ice cream trucks and butterflies, twirling hula hoops and skipping rope, finding four-leaf clovers and robins’ eggs, learning day by day the value of hope. Getting braces, bras, meeting boys, sharing secrets, primping in makeup, nail polish, and nylons, dressing up for dates, dances and parties, scaring our dads while learning to drive. Choosing names for our children, planning our futures, blooming in the summertime of life. Through college years and motherhood, constant friends. Our babies grown with children of their own. As the older generation, planning for retirement, saving money, quitting jobs, watching butterflies. Reaping the fruits of our labors, and flourishing in the fullness of our lives. One day, side by side on the porch, sharing sweet memories from our past, gently swinging, sipping tea, smiling through laughter and tears, remembering friends and family members long gone, warming our bones in autumn of our years. |
Your Presence Lingers Here by R.W. Ferland True love never ends, It just changes shape. In the end it is the same As it always was the first Time you experienced it. An all consuming storm Of emotion that leaves you Forever changed by all that it Means to have loved at all. The presence of you Lingers here my misplaced Love...... |
Cupid’s Busy Pairing by Rose Marie Rideout Surrounded by a love, Feel the sparkle and the joy, As cupid’s busy pairing, Each girl with every boy. Filling hearts with feelings, To share a lifetime through, A love that’s forever young, A love that’s meant for you. Someone to live with, Till death do you part, Sharing a true love together, That’s deep within your heart. Not just today but always, A love that’s always new, That feeling you feel for no other, Knowing this love is meant for you. Hope you have a wonderful day, I need you as my Valentine, To have and to hold forever, Please say that you’ll forever be mine. |