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cache_2934977104Hidden Message

Art attempts often to wrap tender arms around love
Lessons get learned from wispy, smoke-like elusiveness
With tendrils of satisfaction from only minor truth-captures.
Well done words like – romance on action
Wry on straight-forward assertiveness –
The ninth cloud of all our dreams
Five o’clock somewhere, even if you don’t drink…
Be there every moment you get when you might capture lighting in word structures…

 

Now that was fun. Writing a hidden message in a poem while attempting to lend the words some sense challenges me. This message will make sense only to the artist who painted the lovely oil above. Anyone curious about the message? Let me know in the comment section and I will reveal the answer AFTER Christmas morn…

By the way, Michele Marie paints in oils and is masterful at what she does. I’ve made the pic a link directly to her website, so pop on over there and give her work a look-see. She truly holds a talent. We need to encourage her…

Speaking of which…

I’ve reached a point in my life where my desires for physical “things” has waned dramatically. I desire only one “thing.” I alluded to the “things” in Hidden Message – L-O-V-E.  To feel loved, needed, desired, all wrap themselves up inside me where I search for meaning, truth, answers…

Unfortunately, that “love” will first happen within me, for myself, before I may allow myself to fully feel it from another. The message HERE is NOT that I don’t desire or feel love from others, I’ve simply come to the fuller realization that I must love myself more in order for others to love me on a level I desire.

Making sense? Not? These are the ponderings of a late-night Christmas Eve. Sleep should have come for me hours ago, yet I fought it off so that I might complete this task. One final off-the-cuff-poem and I’m off to bed…

Introspections

She cannot know what my arms tell my heart
She cannot fathom how her patchouli wings to my core
She could never guess how her laughter strums my soul’s song
Nor how much love I am capable of giving

I cannot rely on words and actions
I cannot relate the way I feel
I could never hope to hold her a lifetime
Without knowing myself better than ever before

We all hold this truth of inner inspection
We all shy away like the plague runs amuck
We all wish to deny we hold our own key
Without this knowledge we struggle and flail…

So on with our introspection and lover’s review
On with our hopes, our dreams, our peace
One day we may find when all is said and done
To secure our true lover, we must first be the one…

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