Sweet Dears – Post Six-Hundred-Twenty-Two

Decisions, decisions . . .
Well, I have a less yet more vague idea as to what I want to do with my life:
I want to write.

I love to write. I always have. I used to write ‘novels’ on printer paper when I was 5 years old. I started writing poems a few years later. I’ve had (at least) 6 novel ideas I’ve been working to develop, scrapped, or nearly finished since the age of 14. I love to write.
Now for the more vague: Where do I start? Do I want to be an editor? Journalist? Where do I begin?
I suppose it’s time to contact a counselor again. But, in the meantime, I am going to spend time with my parents and friends. I’m visiting for 2 weeks, and a few days before I leave we will all be going up to Washington to bring home their new puppy. My mum has yet to find a name for it. I’m thinking Parker. Don’t you think that is absolutely adorable?

Rain or shine, you’ll be mine
Sleet or snow, wherever you go
I’ll hold your hand among the lands
of dreams we’ll never know.

Au revoir,

Gigi 

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William Blake Stole My Heart – Post Six-Hundred-Eight

Love’s Secret
by William Blake

Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind does move
Silently, invisibly.

I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart;
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears,
Ah! she did depart!

Soon as she was gone from me,
A traveler came by,
Silently, invisibly
He took her with a sigh.

 

William Blake. Oh how I’d love to add you to my collection.

Au revoir,

Gigi

A Petal’s Rose – Post Six-Hundred-Seven

Image

 

I sometimes wonder if you ever believed in us.
I often ponder why I ever did.
Like a petal’s rose, we took on the impossible,
Thinking we could complete another being with a swift touch.
A foolish thought, a tender folly
How vain to believe you could become whole from my love.
Narcissistic betrayal of my own soul;
My eyes only now see my arrogant wisdom.

 

Au revoir,

Gigi 

This is Bliss – Post Five-Hundred-Ninety-Eight

Intrinsic charm,
Intensive hope,
The colors of change,
The sweet sound of longing,
Where shadows grow longer,
And lovers come closer,
This is bliss, my dear.

Such a rare feat,
Such beauty, uncommon and fleeting.
Don’t blink, I beg of you,& breathe.

Breathe little darling,
Make it count this time.

I want to feel the sound of your life. 

Au revoir,

Gigi

Bewilderment; Myriads of Visions – Five-Hundred-Seventy-Eight

A many splendored thing,
We slept through a daze.
We gathered a thought
and ran with the ghost.
What ghost, you say?
The ghost of what we thought used to be,
But truly never came to pass.
A many splendid thing,
In regards to what could have been,
Beyond yesterday, it seems,
Is a mystery of what we dreamt of being.
We? We dreamt? How wonderful it must have been.
To dream, I suppose.
I wouldn’t know; all I see is darkness.

Au revoir,

Gigi 

 

For a Moment, I Thank You – Post Five-Hundred-Seventy-Six

For one moment, I thank you.
I thank you for that glimpse of your eyes.
That one moment where I saw your smile.

I thank you for that breath of air,
That sweet, sincere look in your joyful eyes.
I thank you for letting me see what I felt
Mirrored in your own expression.

For in that single moment,
My strength was replenished,
I could breathe freely and easily,
I could run mile upon mile if need be
I could do anything, if only for you.

So thank you,
I thank you truly and dearly,
For that simple glance,
That sweet, joyful smile,
Is just another reason
I can breathe once more. 

Inspired by a glimpse from you.

Au revoir,

Gigi

Am I Amidst a Dream? – Post Five-Hundred-Seventy-Five

Am I amidst a dream?
Have I somehow refused to awake?
And if I have,
Will my awakening reveal what I fear most?
Or will I just feel deeper amidst your eyes?
Your solemn eyes,
How full of life,
How silly to have assumed
The opposite of what you felt.
Those solemn eyes,
Unopen, yet trusting.
How could I have missed
That solemn glimpse
Which revealed how dear,
How dearly you wished,
To be amidst a dream. 

Au revoir,

Gigi

Life Is . . . A Smile – Post Five-Hundred-Seventy-Four

Oh, dearies. I do apologize. I’ve been so wrapped up in my goals that I’ve left Red behind in the dust the past couple of weeks. I know, it’s dreadful.
Forgive me? I have so much to share with all of you. New observations, imperfect adventures, and beautiful snapshots of wonderful moments.

Another reason I have yet to post on the blog is that I haven’t had a moment to upload one photo. Not one. They’re collecting, slowly, on my SD card.
On the other hand, I have wonderful news: I have a temp job packaging food that will last me through January. God is wonderful. I also have 3 photo shoots coming up. Two of them are presents for dear friends, and another is a free senior shoot for a wonderful girl that I kind of adore with my whole being.
I can’t wait to share all of these photos with you. Hopefully I’ll have a chance to breathe and use my computer to show you all the wonderful things I’ve discovered back home.

I’ve dreamt of the possibility of a you and I,
I’ve pondered the opportunity of a Tomorrow with you.
My heart skips at the thought of your eyes,
It produces a fluttering sensation at the touch of your fingertips.
I’ve wondered at an “I do”,
And I’ve deeply thought of a “good morning, my dear,” next to you.
And, my dear,
I must admit,
That the only logical explanation is this:
I see only you.

Au revoir,

Gigi

A Vibrant Ghost – Post Five-Hundred-Seventy-Three

A past reflection swims through a maze,
Vibrance is its bothersome whim.
It speaks in riddles and laughs in gold,
All the while screaming passion that died long ago.

It sweeps through your dreams,
and haunts your shadows.
It slithers through nightmares
and caresses your wishes.

Day dreams, Night fears,
A vibrant ghost has come to sleep.
It wakes the skeleton that lingers in your closet
Bringing to life what you thought had been buried.

 

Au revoir,

Gigi

The Fiddler’s Dream – Post Five-Hundred-Seventy-Two

Whimsical seams stroke the moonlight’s shadows,
Tearing away fanciful virtues of morality.
A revolving mirror; what goes up must come back with newborn eyes,
Filled with the knowledge of what you cannot see.
Seeing is wishing upon a reality,
Oh fill my eyes with dreams of stars,
Twinkling mysteries grant us each a wish.
Burn up with bright fantasies of now,
What is now is what we have,
What we have is now.

Au revoir,

Gigi