Marysville, OH, USA
single, 1 child
Speaks: English only
Hi Care2 Friends,
I'm sorry to have been away so long. I wanted to share that I've been busy working on a book. It's finally complete!
Now, I've been busying putting it into manuscript form and sending out letters to Literary Agents. If anyone knows of any agents or publishers, I'd be most grateful...
This book feels like destiny... The book truly did write itself. Now, I understand what is meant by this saying.
Please wish me luck in completing this project!
please dear friend, live in Today, cast your sorrows aside and look to the future; You deserve to Love Again.
To All Americans - Let's Buy American Products and Bring American Jobs Back to America
When we are old and gray, we'll remember love's embrace, and you will not live in sorrow, but will rejoice in your cherished far-away memories.
no light November 25, 2009 3:54 PM
filled with fear, tinged with tears
emptiness, its pain thus rears
distress, in stress,
wanting a warm caress
coldness instead is only there
darkness with its despair
there's no light in this dismal place
The White Rose, Butterfly and Bee
This dream begins like a frenzied bee drawing from flower to flower the needed nectar for the making of its honey of quality, carefree in spirit and boundless by mute authority.
But the taste of the White Rose proves to be too much and the nectar so high in quality, and with its healing properties, no honey of the bee's own making could compare.
Oh, but hidden fear now abrupts and awakens the many whimsy dreams filled with loving bliss only to realize that the bee has morphed into the Pristine White Rose, and the lover from the rose to caterpillar and now butterfly.
He swoops and swallows and flits about enjoying the varying delights of nectar, and he in kind briefly returns and takes comfort atop his love's cool white petals. Sadly, he finds the rose's wine too heavy, and away he takes flight in flutters of lightness, moving with soft whispers hoping ever so slightly to warm and temper the frigid state of his beloved's heart, encapsuled within a pristine, white bound center.
And it is only now that I awaken from my dreams deeply rooted within solemn ground to a brutal reality, and it is only now that I fully realize and begin to understand how it is a heart becomes broken.
Depression, destruction, how can one function in hard times?
feelings so divine, lost in forgiven times. compassion shown the door. The Beast, it wants more and more.
Fore now, the takers rule and destruct our fate. The artists, the dreamers, their inspiration gone due to lack of vision, lack of foresight; lack of faith.
One can be forlorn in unforgiving times.
Keep the faith, improve your strength. face your enemies silently with your hidden affinities with objectivity, lack of passion; yet, keep your grace knowing that what you face shall pass, and good times devine will make their way once more to your door.
Oh, givers, peacemakers, do not give up upon your faith. retain your grace; for all can be redeemed. Give thanks to God above, and thy faith shall someday be well received.
Keep your visions and your beliefs held tight, woven deep within a tight, knotted center, bound strong, strength beyond endurance. with persistence, thus, one shall flourish.
Fore, deep within, rivers flow and, thus, doth nourish. maintain your seed, though, quietly within the dark of Winter where bitter winds blow above the surface. Warm, cocooned deep inside, soul nutrition will grow where no foe can enter.
Keep your spirit and your faith and do so with modest grace, and reward will be your flourish when the sun doth warm the land. Yours will rush forth, and you will flourish with deep greens, affinities soft and lushess, green nourishing beyond one's expectations.
Oh, ye who hold little faith, or Vultures who fly and circle the sky, fore, they cannot live within bounds of green.
So, keep thy seed. fore, it shall redeem and maintain one's resounding spirit. Peace within to thee, I bless. Do not give up, but keep this best hidden and protected. Children of Jesus and Lord, though, meek to one's eyes whose strength is thus so well hidden, continue thy good acts of deeds, and let the Vultures pick at your remains. Fore, even they must eat.
Disgard the unwanted needs, the dying carcass that holds you back. yet, do not bleed your desire and take up this task. fore, decompensation, degeneration give rise to true creation. Give into these Beasts; for now, it is their season.
Therefore, do not question God's reasoning. suffering is subjective, joy to be taken in small detail. Beauty, it still resides. take comfort in warm lullabies. and so, thus, your seed thus sleeps; it's love kept deep, and spirit will truly abound when love comes 'round and radiates.
Thus, seeds will grow, and rivers flourish.
Like a weathered Oak Tree amidst a brook along side a traveling stream...It is only then, when you can let yourself go and be free and then you can truly dream...of a better world, of a better life, of a better tomorrow.
and then you can release your sorrows into the traveling stream.
Fairy Pranks Filled with Nature’s Joy
Fairies prancing throughout the night, Disappear with morning’s light –
Into a flower, or maybe a shoe?
Into a bird’s nest, or a drop of dew.
Nature’s spirit truly abounds.
Take a deep breath and look around, as you free your soul.
The twinkle in that rabbit’s eye, was it imagined or did she sigh?
The smile on a duckling’s bill, The way he waddles and quacks hello.
A blue bird’s cheerful greeting as he pecks upon your windowsill.
Will you turn away, or will you let joy enter in?
Fairies know of nature’s delight.
They dance and prance,
Celebrating her goodness throughout the night.
So remember this when you awaken,
Maintaining your bustle and haste.
And then, When you hesitate in a moment’s chaste and wonder…
“Now what did I do with my shoe?”
Mended Heart, New Start
I saw a little bird today.
He reminded me of you.
He chirped and swayed upon a branch,
as the Autumn wind blew.
He seemed unfazed.
I saw a little bird today.
He reminded me of you,
of lost love faded like the last June bloom.
A new season, a new start,
Time to move on with a mended heart.
I saw a little bird today, and he reminded me of you.
With his tilted head, he gave a quizzical look,
as if to say, “Aren’t you sad?”
I looked at the little bird and laughed, because he looked so funny with his puzzled face.
“No, of course not. Why should I be sad?”
Then, I told him how lucky I felt to have known you.
I told him how you taught me to let go of the past, to not look back, instead to always move forward.
And I told him how you taught me to let go of the weight of past burdens, and how you taught me to be free and to just let go.
I saw a little bird today, and he reminded me of you.
As he chirped upon a swaying branch and began his song anew,
He watched as I picked the last faded bloom of June,
And he watched as I held the faded petals into the November wind.
…and he chirped and sang with encouragement, as I let them go.
The Pristine, White Rose
A simple, yet lovely white rose, pristine in its beauty touched with the freshness of dew;
Cannot escape one’s eye or desire to touch…
What is incomprehensible or unimaginative to another of much lesser quality;
However, the need is so great and the want so unknowing…
That the ignorant must reach out and place a grubby hand or finger and thrust its ownership onto the object of desired possession.
The tarnish and the inevitable stain that might follow…
Thus, the pureness and the faithfulness of said rose is protected by its rows of many thorns, not easily seen by the human eye,
And, oh, to reach and to touch such a purity, to hopefully possess such cold logic and reasoning if only to hold it for one moment within one’s hand…
Surely, it must leave much to reason.
So, like a beggar and a thief, the unscrupulous reaches out in its want of ownership, but in its haste and need of greed,
Pricks its finger upon the regal flower’s thorn,
And alas, leaves a stain, a drop of blood at the edge of the blossom.
The rose, so beautiful, so fresh with its openness and expansion of petals does thus wilt a little, and its glorious head drops momentarily.
With recoil from pain and shame, the flower withdraws its thorns and bends in sorrow.
Oh, what kind of fool does this to another…
Living thing, especially one of such unequaled perfection,
To only take away a bit for selfish taste and to leave its object without its grace?
What kind of fool, in deed, to be so ignorant and unknowing in desire to take the love of one away from another?
Such a stupid fool, such a stupid fate, to disgrace, disgrace with lack of honor, goodwill or true faith.
Oh, but not to worry, for the rose it knows, its inner knowledge of peace held,
Tightly woven and bound within the bloom’s strong center,
Where no stain of blood or sweat will ever enter.
And from afar, now when one walks along the winding garden path…
And comes upon this rose with its slight tilted head and burnished petals,
One is immediately taken by its scent, such is its heavenly fragrance, glorious to the mind and to one’s reasoning.
And all who walk this path can’t help but stop and partake of its lovely presence.
Amazing grace, its saving grace…
The lovely rose thus radiates,
Love is not perfect or is it wise, but it endures from within forever.
Open Up to Love’s Sweet Joy
Open up to love’s sweet bloom,
Radiating joy through extended petals
Born during the month of June,
When love is fresh, when love is new.
Open up to life’s game of hopeful chance.
Don’t be afraid to bear the uncertain tones of true romance.
Don’t hesitate to join and become as one in love’s awkward dance.
Romance, romance the one you love,
The one you can’t stop thinking of
Within your heart, within your mind
Filled with lovely illusions of dreams and hopes
Destined to be reached and cherished.
Open up to your one true love
With arms held wide
And a smile that reassures
And lips that kiss away self-doubts of lost control.
Place yourself in love’s embrace
And savor the warmth of this tender place.
Located within the center of love’s sweet bloom,
Scented with desire.
Born during the month of June,
When love is fresh, when love is new.
The Pristine White Rose starts to Wither
Thus, the Pristine White Rose now starts to wither, and its pristine edges turn to crimson and slowly blacken,
how does one overcome such desires, knowingly carnal and brutally wicked? but the desire to touch and to be touched is overwhelming and unquestionable, and lust permeates the air between drawing a line, a connection of irrefutable damage.
Oh, but how I long to run my lips along my beloved and trace our connection to further strengthen the bond of longing between us; to hold, embrace into heightened levels of desire.
it is the need of mankind to want of that of which we cannot achieve, hold or possess; my beloved, it makes him only more desirable. And in my wretched dreams he remains attainable.
Ah, Please, Pristine White Rose come back to Life. Please show me the way in which to relieve my trangressions. For I miss the strength of my rose's encapsuled strong white-bound center.
Please, Dear Rose, forgive my sins and understand the lure of ripened fruit's temptation; it is its rancid scent that confuses one's senses. Oh, but to only have a small taste, would that not be too much? Alas, lust is like greed, and is inquenchable, insatietable; there is no moderate, no form of modesty.
Please Pristine White Rose, forgive my heart, forgive my soul in its longing; I long to escape, to disappear from this earth-bound world into fantasy away from cruel reality.
Please, Lord, please, I ask that You forgive me. Please, give me back my faith, my Pristine White Rose, the White Rose of Eternity.
The Pedestal Garden You adored me, placed me upon a pedestal, a flawless piece of artThat you deemed a lovely statuette whose beauty you regaled and held in high esteem without stain. And then, you placed your lovely statuette upon its pedestal within your private garden,So that you could partake and enjoy at your leisure and at your pleasure and reflect in its beauty.A private garden filled with many trees, shadowed pines, and nooks that contained little fairiesAnd birds who chirped quite merrily.A garden overflowing with flowers blossoming with the color of your dreams, plants filled with buds of a promising future. Everything was fine for a while, the garden quite beautiful and the statuette of the lovely goddess, untouched. Its porcelain luminous with warmth under the beaming rays of a loving sun. Alas, paradise could not last forever.Foul weather came into the pedestal garden, And a frightful storm blew its harsh wind upon the small statuette, As it tumbled from up high… In the morning after, you walk amongst your private grounds, Surveying all that you own and possess.You assess the storm’s damage of what can be salvaged, what can be saved and all that has been lost.You touch your heart lightly and close up inside, realizing all that you’ve lost is more than you had imagined.Your many strong-willed pines now lie toppled on the ground; heads bowed in surrender. Your lovely fairies shiver silently and look to you for guidance.Your beautiful flowers, which harbored the colors of your dreams, have lost their blooms and scattered petals lie about the garden’s floor like shattered pieces of stained glass. You can’t imagine how you will restore your secret hiding place, the place you call home and hold closest to your heart. You can’t imagine how you will rebuild or where you will possibly find the strength to begin again, to begin anew, to restart… A new life, a new home with different flowers that will bloom with new ambitions, and as you walk along your garden path with your head cast down,You catch a glimpse of crumbled and soiled porcelain.You follow the trail of debris and find your once cherished statuette,Now broken and damaged, no longer flawless or blemish-free. You pick up the weathered piece, so once endearing, and now wonder if it could still be considered a work of art, but now with history and a story, …and then you reconsider – “Will it still have a place within my garden?”
Musings of an Obsessive Mind
Obsession, the unraveling of an unbalanced mind
in trying to solve the fine-line mystery of love and hate
In relation to time.
If only’s, what if’s…
Infiltrate my mind,
Infiltrate my reasoning,
Causing my doubts and fears to rise
Like a serpent’s head,
Ready to strike my desired security.
I cry up to the Heavens and plead for Assurance’s sign.
Please, Dear Lord, please.
Help still the vibrations of my lingering mind.
Oh the sound of the breaking of a heart, when illusions of hope are shattered within the dark.When love that was born fresh and lovely as a bloom has turned to the color of soot and leaves the tinge of gritty dirtiness behind.What can one do? Ignore the signs of filth, of lonely despair left behind by love’s betrayal. The torment of it all in knowing, how can one pretend?When to look into one’s lover’s eyes and easily comprehend…The betrayal of love in exchange for lust. Why is this a need for mankind, why is it a must…Needed desire to be fulfilled within the lowly chamber of a lost soul?A lover without control. What can a one do without the loyalty of true love? Let go and be free, may fate take you where you belong. I will always love you, my faith in you will always be strong.Thank you for what you’ve given me, for your belief and strength in me.Deep sorrow in that I can’t give you what you desire.May you someday find peace and wander no more.
Savage lover who brings delight with sweet nothings whispered softly
and shouts of fantasy flights.
Deep caresses accompanied by deep kisses searching for answers while longing for mysteries,
You possess completely without need or want.
Passionate lover, savage lover whose eyes shine both transparent and lower with secrecy,
Keep your mysteries close and only share those that you render necessary.
May you continue to search for your Utopia, the hidden Garden of Eve with blessings of joy
and peace combined with beauty, And in your savage grace, find your quest without reason or knowing.
Forget-Me-Nots of Unrequited Love
Intense luminous depths of mystery.
Lingering moments filled with
Longing and wonder.
What is this spell that thou hath cast upon me,
Unknowingly, without meaning?
You have touched me like no other,
And for however brief –
I am made better in your being.
Frogs Jumping, Bullfrog Bluffing Monday, 8:20 PM
'round the old farm pond, late August Summer, very warm.
hot Petrie dish covered in the sun by a thin film of green, not fun for us, but fun for some.
Take a closer look, you might be surprised.
There's a bullfrog lurking, hidden deep within the 'tails...
Mud stuck between his eyes!
He blinks once, maybe twice, and he moves slower than the others. He gives out a deep throaty call and then jumps from the pond's edge into the group of Cattails; the Bullfrog's Kingdom where no frog may lie or lay, where no frog may enter, sonder yet the young and fragile.
Then, walk along side the curving path along the curving edge of this grassy path near side the green scummy pond, and little frogs will yip before they leap into the pond.
One after another, as you walk, three, six, half-a-dozen at a time, and then You look much closer with your eyes. And then, You realize that it is all disguise.
The pond is not only covered in film of scum; it contains many little eyes poking through green scum. Not just a half-dozen, not Twenty or More. Hundreds upon Hundreds of little spores!
Little tadpoles, how many then, and so the circle of Life it thus begins. And there sits, the Bullfrog within His Kingdom; He is there, neither rhythme nor reason. He reigns, He alone, in this Petrid Season.
The Lioness and the Butterfly 5:46 PM
oh, how I long for you when you are not here.
to touch your face, your warm embrace, where can I begin?
but you flit about like a butterfly, so carefree yet confounding.
yet if I captured you, you my prey, then your allure would surely fade.
and me? myself, like a lioness not easily tamed; not quite a fair matching in this masterful game.
yet, the lioness is loyal and faithful and will stand by lying low upon the ground in wait. she does not tire or give up easily upon her prey.
while you, careless butterfly, fly up high within the blue sky and drop down and tease the princess feline, as you land upon her nose and poke fun at her Royal Highness.
and the Great Cat laughs, such fun, because she knows you are uncatchable, or if one were to catch you - you would fade away and die. and how could she do that to you, where would be the joy? So, the lioness laughs and twitches her tail, strikes her feline alluring pose.
Though, inside her heart is breaking and how she longs to join the butterfly way up high within the sky, the great blue sky of logic, the great blue sky without limitation, with loss of self-control or any control for that matter.
How do you do it? she wonders...
the pounding of my heart is loud and echoes within my head, Edgar Allen Poe, you should know - you're better off dead;
now You are one of the Ghosts who lingers in the halls, knocking on doors and standing in corners,
I catch a brief glimpse as you pass through me with swift movement, but I sense you and see traces of light left by your passing.
What is it like to live in purgatory, neither Hell nor Heaven, neither God nor Demon - what is your fate, your purpose?
the beating of my heart thunders within my ears. fears rush forth and surface to my conscious.
It is neither real nor tangible; it is imagined. These noises, surely, they are only imagined.
Turn to the light, turn to God and to my Angels for gentle guidance. They do not abandon or leave me in times of turmoil or sorrow.
Gentle whispers and soothing touch, like a mother to a child with fever, You calm my soul, You calm my spirit, and in turn, with these gentle proddings, You calm my heart into a safe, restful sleep.
Shy Girl, Autistic or Artistic? - She can't Decide...
The shy, quiet girl shut away within her room, door closed, heart open, yet so afraid...
She does not know for certain, shadows lurk and cast doubts over her - darkening her everchanging moods, anxiety perplexing and vexing,
she can hardly ever truly find any peace...
You see, Earth's tides, they change constantly throughout the day, and just like the tides that are pulled into turmoil by the Moon, so is this strange moonchild-like creature. She can hardly be free from its gravitational pull on her soul; she can hardly possess a truly logical thought, devoid of feeling.
Ah, some nights, she stares up at the sky and wonders what it would be like, instead of wanting to be the Sun, Stars or Moon, what would it be like to just be the Sky?
Free, weightless and light with no gravitational pull or manipulation of emotion, no need to shine or to to be seen - invisible, yet all knowing, cold and logical without feeling.
The shy girl wishes and asks God, would He grant a taste of this for her in her next life?
Peace from Within
The beat of my heart slows and releases all yearnings.
There is no need, no want, only a sense of being in complete stillness...
filled with Love, sweet pure love that burns white with cool logic. A cool warmness filled with radiant light bringing Peace and Stillness of the heart; radiant light that neither burns or hurts one's eyes, but instead illuminates a path towards lasting fulfullment.
Tiger Eyes of an Old Soul
Tiger eyes that watch and know,
Filled with depths of illusion from times before.
A gaze so piercing,
It cuts far beneath into one’s inner core.
Somehow you understand and comprehend
Where so many others have failed.
Strangers in passing…
Over a span of centuries, our souls have been linked.
And through shared mysteries, we abide in each other.
We are old friends.
Writing and Editing
Artistic Impressions by Courtney Meyers
|College Grad Yr
|High School Grad Yr
||Introduce yourself to Courtney
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