Touch me deep...

My 5 year old this morning when she was semi-awake: " It's a sunny day, Mum... that is a good sign, isn't it Mummy? Isn't it?!"


:heart:
 
In nature, nothing is perfect and everything is perfect. Trees can be contorted, bent in weird ways, and they're still beautiful.
Alice Walker
 
And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?
 
slow sensual kisses
upon my brow
sliding smoothly into
lil half whimpers
echoing, as nimble fingers
caress hot tiny nubs
pouty mouth suckling
tight firm belly
haughty hips grinding
with each lil nibble
heaven awaits....


:catroar:
 
From Jessi

"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood,
For nothing now can ever come to any good."

W. H. Auden

:heart:
 
"Touch me deep"

The title of this thread epitomises Colly. She touched each and every one of us very deeply indeed.

We cry for our loss, but we smile gladly for having known her.

Sleep now, little one. :rose:

:heart:
 
My daughter coming over to hug me because she knows I'm sad. Asking about Colly and who she was, me telling her how wonderful she was and her smiling back....and another hug.
 
"Dawn is forever, always breaking somewhere on a line of the earth. The universe is a brew in the making. Reality is a sleep that is awakening. All permanent things have an uneasy edge of change, a crack where the future is sprouting. Never believe it is forever night. Wait. Dawn is forever. We are time past and our aspiration is all time to come. We are yesterday
and tomorrow, teetering on the fulcrum of the eveanescent now. Our hope is as new as the first leaves, the new grass, the baby not yet born."
 
Bestest buddy gets big, wet, sloppy touch-me-deep kisses for crying with me yesterday morning. I was hurting, so she was hurting. That's all there was to say.
 
A smile and a laugh when someone said to me: "Sometimes life can be a box of toenail clippings..." :)
 
Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.

:rose:
 
As I told my 4 year old daughter last night that Grandma was well and my sister was looking after her, she said "We have to be gentle to grandma, don't we?"
 
English Lady said:
As I told my 4 year old daughter last night that Grandma was well and my sister was looking after her, she said "We have to be gentle to grandma, don't we?"

I :heart: that! And I am sure grandma loves it just as much!
 
The Slant: Ani Difranco

the slant
a building settling around me
my figure female framed crookedly
in the threshold
of the room
door scraping floorboards
with every opening
carving a rough history
of bedroom scenes
the plot hard to follow
the text obscured
in the folds of sheets
slowly gathering the stains
of seasons spent lying there
red and brown
like leaves fallen
the colors of an eternal cycle
fading with the
wash cycle
and the rinse cycle
again an unfamiliar smell
like my name misspelled
or misspoken
a cycle broken
the sound of them strong
stalking talking about their prey
like the way hammer meets nail
pounding, they say
pounding out the rhythms of attraction
like a woman was a drum like a body was a weapon
like there was something more they wanted
than the journey
like it was owed to them
steel toed they walk
and I'm wondering why this fear of men
maybe it's because I'm hungry
and like a baby I'm dependent on them
to feed me
I am a work in progress
dressed in the fabric of a world unfolding
offering me intricte patterns of questions
rhythms that never come clean
and strengths that you still haven't seen
 
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I'm saving Colleen's stories on Lit for Melissa.

Can't help but read them. And can't help but be awed once again at what a fine writer she was.
 
rgraham666 said:
I'm saving Colleen's stories on Lit for Melissa.

Can't help but read them. And can't help but be awed once again at what a fine writer she was.

Rob, I'd love to have a copy of the files once you finish. :rose:
 
One of my co-workers, who is a truly caring and proufoundly loving soul, coming in specifically to ask how my brother is doing, how I am doing, and when she got a tear in her eye to hear that we have "just in case plans", that touched me deep once again.
 
Wow, Nirvana's relation of her and Jessi's lighting a candle for Colly in St. Paul's was incredibly beautiful and moving, and touched me deeply. Thank you, Nirvana, for being you, and sharing you with us.
 
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Roxanne Appleby said:
Wow, Nirvana's relation of her and Jessi's lighting a candle for Colly in St. Paul's was incredibly beautiful and moving, and touched me deeply. Thank you, Nirvana, for being you, and sharing you with us.

And while I have you here, Rox... Your emails always touch me so very deeply. You're amazing. So caring. I just want you to know how much I love you and how important you are to me in my life.

Thank you, for so much :rose:
 
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