Month: May 2017

Fatal Attractions and life

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I was reading the latest newsletter from Book Riot about the most disturbing books and chuckled when I realized I’ve read all of the titles Romeo Rosales had listed. Oops, I definitely have eclectic and morbid reading habits. I’m sure you’ll recognize the titles, too! Why as readers are we attracted to true crimes and horror stories?

American Pyscho by Brett Ellis appealed to me because at the time I was trying to find myself similar to the author except I’m definitely female. Ellis comments about American Pyscho  “Whenever I am asked to talk American Psycho, I have to remember why I was writing it at the time and what it meant to me. A lot of it had to do with my frustration with having to become an adult and what it meant to be an adult male in American society. I didn’t want to be one because all it was about was status.” Me either, the status quo wasn’t appealing at all. The character of this book represents everything that is wrong with American culture, extreme consumerism, making a lot of money at any cost, and nihilism of some group of young people. We hate the character yet we wonder secretly if we have some of those traits. (1991) (1)

In Cold Blood by Truman Capote appealed to the younger me because I was told this book was too graphic for me to read so, of course, I snuck it and read it anyway.  In Holcomb, Kansas the Herbert Clutter family was brutally murdered in 1959. Capote and his friend Harper Lee went there to research the case. It took him 6 years to complete the first non-fiction crime drama. The killers, Richard “Dick” Hickock and Perry Smith, were arrested six weeks after the murders and later executed by the state of Kansas. I read it by flashlight in my bed at night and needless to say, I didn’t sleep well but I couldn’t put it down either. My grandmother did discover her book missing and I got grounded to boot.(1966) (2)

The Excorist by William Peter Blatty I originally saw at the drive-in theater on the Barre-Montpelier Road back in the dark ages it seems. I was a whopping 16 years old, married to my first husband when it was released. I couldn’t sleep at all that night after the movie. Nor could I forget the movie, I had to know more so I purchased the book and read it in two sittings.  I was like a moth to the flame. The novel was inspired by a 1949 case of demonic possession and exorcism according to Blatty. He heard about demonic possession while he was a student in the class of 1950 at Georgetown University. (3)

Wolf Boys by Dan Slater This was a grisly yet compelling tale of impoverished Mexican-American youth molded into assassins by Los Zetas, the fearsome drug cartel. It’s an engrossing read with a nightmarish vision of a hyperviolent and corporatized narcotics industry, seducing a new generation with minimal alternatives. A reminder what lies behind the social landscape in the border region of extreme poverty and garish wealth…elaborate courtesy and low-barbarian violence. I stayed up all night with my head wrapped up in all 352 pages because of all the media coverage about the need for a wall between our countries. A wall will not solve the issues. (2016) (4)

Blood Meridan by Cormac McCarthy I was reading a lot during this time about the old west when someone recommended this one to me. I was interested in learning more about the Glanton gang but soon found out they were not appealing characters at all. “The bulk of the novel details the gang’s conversations and depraved, murderous activities as they travel on horseback throughout the borderlands. The gang encounters a traveling carnival, and, in untranslated Spanish, each of their fortunes is told with Tarot cards. The gang originally contracts with various regional leaders to exterminate Apaches and are given a bounty for each scalp they recover. Before long, however, they murder almost anything in their path, including peaceful agrarian Indians, unprotected Mexican villagers, and even Mexican and American soldiers.” I gagged a few times but persevered to the end. Zane Grey’s book about the west are a lot easier to read than McCarthy’s. (1985) (5)

Helter Skelter  by Vincent Bugliosi  Like everyone else at the times it seems I wanted to know more about the Tate/LaBianca  murders and Charles Manson. What created this monster? Why were so many young women attracted to this morbid man?  It wasn’t enough to read the book, again that moth in the flame moment I watched the movie, too! I can’t imagine what went through Bugliosi’s mind writing the book. (1974) {6)

The Road Out of Hell by Anthony Flacco I couldn’t believe this man was a decorated WWII vet, a loving father, and grandfather in addition to being an active community member. Just goes to show how deceiving surface images can be. “The heinous murders were committed by Gordon Stuart Northcott; a Canadian-born sadist who murdered between three and twenty young boys. The story is told by Sanford Clark, Gordon’s nephew and captive from the age of thirteen to fifteen. Sanford was beaten, molested, and raped by his uncle while he was held captive. But the worst part: He was forced to take part in the murders or risk being murdered himself. ” The movie Changeling is loosely based on this book. Yup, I saw that too! (7) (8)

People are morbidly fascinated with crime scenes and horror and sadly some feel the need to replicate the scenarios.  How can we treat our fellow humans so deplorably?

While I am on this topic I would like to send prayers for all the families involved in the bombing incident in Manchester, England yesterday. I pray for a time when all violence stops and we exist peacefully together.

Speaking of peacefully, I cannot say Round 66 on my mandala has been a peaceful journey. This row and I established a love-hate relationship. I’ve taken each of the eight sides apart more than once now so the spacing works. It is so easy to miss a stitch and when you do the end of the section will not work. I am on the final section and when it is done I will share a picture with you.

In Vic and Lyn’s world, this is our first week of being an Airbnb hosts and thus far our first guest initially booked for one week but now as extended his stay for three more weeks. He is here Sunday evening and leaves on Friday morning to return to his home. He works less than a mile from our home so it works out perfectly. We have guests joining us each weekend for the next month as well.

When I put the listing up on Monday, May 15th, I never anticipated how quickly this would all come together. My husband and I did some quick renovations to our home over the weekend and finished an hour before our first guest arrived. Phew!

I hope all of our guests will be as easy as our 1st one has been. Time will tell.

My writing time took a serious hit over the weekend with all the cleaning and renovation projects but hopefully, I’ll be back on track. Yesterday, I was too tired to write and reality wise I was too tired to crochet too but I did it anyway. Unfortunately, I ended up having to take it out and fix my mistakes there too. 😦

Today, I’ve accomplished 35 minutes straight. 🙂

1.https://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/authors/interviews/article/47587-american-psycho-at-20-catching-up-with-bret-easton-ellis.html

2. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/In_Cold_Blood

3. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Exorcist_(novel)

4. http://www.npr.org/2016/09/10/493436482/wolf-boys-tells-the-story-of-americans-lured-to-join-mexican-drug-cartel

5. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blood_Meridian

6. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helter_Skelter_(book)

7. http://bookriot.com/2017/05/22/the-most-disturbing-book-i-have-ever-read/?utm_source=Sailthru&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Riot%20Rundown&utm_term=BookRiot_TheRiotRundown_Tue-Thur

8. https://anthonyflacco.com/the-road-out-of-hell/

Featured Poet~Maria Wisława Anna Szymborska

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On Death, without Exaggeration

It can’t take a joke,
find a star, make a bridge.
It knows nothing about weaving, mining, farming,
building ships, or baking cakes.

In our planning for tomorrow,
it has the final word,
which is always beside the point.

It can’t even get the things done
that are part of its trade:
dig a grave,
make a coffin,
clean up after itself.

Preoccupied with killing,
it does the job awkwardly,
without system or skill.
As though each of us were its first kill.

Oh, it has its triumphs,
but look at its countless defeats,
missed blows,
and repeat attempts!

Sometimes it isn’t strong enough
to swat a fly from the air.
Many are the caterpillars
that have outcrawled it.

All those bulbs, pods,
tentacles, fins, tracheae,
nuptial plumage, and winter fur
show that it has fallen behind
with its halfhearted work.

Ill will won’t help
and even our lending a hand with wars and coups d’etat
is so far not enough.

Hearts beat inside eggs.
Babies’ skeletons grow.
Seeds, hard at work, sprout their first tiny pair of leaves
and sometimes even tall trees fall away.

Whoever claims that it’s omnipotent
is himself living proof
that it’s not.

There’s no life
that couldn’t be immortal
if only for a moment.

Death
always arrives by that very moment too late.

In vain it tugs at the knob
of the invisible door.
As far as you’ve come
can’t be undone.

 

By Wislawa Szymborska
From “The People on the Bridge”, 1986
Translated by S. Baranczak & C. Cavanagh

Copyright © Wislawa Szymborska, S. Baranczak & C. Cavanagh

My apologies to chance for calling it necessity.
My apologies to necessity if I’m mistaken, after all.
Please, don’t be angry, happiness, that I take you as my due.
May my dead be patient with the way my memories fade.
My apologies to time for all the world I overlook each second.
My apologies to past loves for thinking that the latest is the first.
Forgive me, distant wars, for bringing flowers home.
Forgive me, open wounds, for pricking my finger.
I apologize for my record of minuets to those who cry from the depths.
I apologize to those who wait in railway stations for being asleep today at five a.m.
Pardon me, hounded hope, for laughing from time to time.
Pardon me, deserts, that I don’t rush to you bearing a spoonful of water.
And you, falcon, unchanging year after year, always in the same cage,
your gaze always fixed on the same point in space,
forgive me, even if it turns out you were stuffed.
My apologies to the felled tree for the table’s four legs.
My apologies to great questions for small answers.
Truth, please don’t pay me much attention.
Dignity, please be magnanimous.
Bear with me, O mystery of existence, as I pluck the occasional thread from your train.
Soul, don’t take offense that I’ve only got you now and then.
My apologies to everything that I can’t be everywhere at once.
My apologies to everyone that I can’t be each woman and each man.
I know I won’t be justified as long as I live,
since I myself stand in my own way.
Don’t bear me ill will, speech, that I borrow weighty words,
then labor heavily so that they may seem light.

 

Maria Wisława Anna Szymborska (2 July 1923 – 1 February 2012) was a Polish poet, essayist, and translator. Szymborska was awarded the 1996 Nobel Prize in Literature “for poetry that with ironic precision allows the historical and biological context to come to light in fragments of human reality.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wis%C5%82awa_Szymborska

 

Poets and Poetry, Writing Challenge and the Mandala

/ lyncrain / 3 Comments

I will admit there is a smugness among poets because we try to use our poetry to make something happen or stop happening. We hang onto that thread of belief that what we wrote will shorten a nightmare, maybe even save a life. We find it unimaginable to not try with our writing.

There are definitely some bad poems out there but for every bad poem, there is the one intellectual poem that will strike a nerve. As an author on more than one occasion, a poem I’ve written has surprised me with the end result being different than where I began.

This particular poem has engaged different readers in ways I didn’t anticipate. From how did you know how alone I feel, or I’ve been there or are you okay?

Undesired

I lie

withered beside

the road like

a broken little bird

to confused to fly.

My neglected state

is apparent

even to the most

oblivious of

the oblivious.

Anger and frustration

sustain me

initially

but even that

energy fades

leaving a pitiful wisp

of what I once

was.

Now, a memory

shuffled among

many, I’ve

lost value

over time

until all

that is left

of me is

dust.©

The writing challenge had a slight bump in the road, Monday, and Tuesday no matter what I began writing ended up torn into pieces in frustration. My poor pencil snapped at one point because I was pushing so hard into the pad. Course, having my migraine spike that the control meds didn’t take the edge off didn’t help. I decided to sleep,  read some and work on the mandala until the Botox injections finally kicked in and the migraine from hades dissipated. It’s been three days since the injections and I am still struggling but at least today when I sat down to write I wrote something I liked.

Marcus sent me back my critique on Death and I and unfortunately, his commentary was the same as Vic’s that with all the time I’ve been spending trying to emulate what other authors in our local writing group do I lost my own voice in the process. So today, I went back to the table with my beloved pencil and began again line by line.

Funny thing before I knew it three hours had flown by and a whole pot of coffee drank. Oops, sorry, Vic.  (I’m a serious coffee drinker unlike my husband, he doesn’t usually drink more than one cup whereas I am usually a pot and more. I sleep like a baby every night regardless what time I indulge.) For this week, Theresa, Ronel, Tami I have almost 5 hours accomplished, although 2 I really feel were unproductive.

I did get some blog reading done. I spent some time with usathroughtyoureyeswith Audrey, Tom, and Emma (their dog). I also tried finger crocheting without much success, Yolanda. I did enjoy catching up with your crochet posts. The sweater is gorgeous but she (Yolanda) is frustrated with the sleeves. My only crochet clothing projects were vests for my children when they were younger. I do hats and scarves quite often because I love the look of Tunisian stitches. I’ve avoided shirts because of the sleeves and the way they drape or don’t drape as she discovered. Misstalkaholic had an interesting post about the Wagah border I enjoyed in addition to her examples of baggy shirts and wearing options. I’m guilty of liking loose baggy shirts untucked and just hanging there but then I’m 61 years old and comfort matters immensely to me. Tami is trying out bloglovin. I wish you lots of luck Tami.  I blog on Writing.com, I don’t have time to commit to another site beyond here and there. I did see oceanoriginals is looking for pattern testers. I briefly contemplated that and decided not to stretch myself any thinner than I already am.

We’re on Airbnb now, trying to earn some much-needed money to finish the renovations in this stone fortress so I really need to stay on top of the house cleaning and not let my furballs get to out of hand.

Mandala update:

I’m on round 66, the most challenging row thus far I have encountered. The directions are a bit complicated and working with two yarns at once have definitely slowed my progress. I’m working with baby blue and royal blue in this section which is Part 10. The designer did note there are only two colors in this part.

Round 64 and 65 were a snap unlike 66. I have taken it apart now 3 times because I messed up the popcorn spacing and the changing of colors which shows big time if you don’t have it as directed. It didn’t help either that Purryl, our oldest tabby, decided to chew the yarn I had pulled out either. A migraine didn’t help either.

“Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” ― C.S. Lewis

I’m taking my time and checking often now so I don’t have to take it apart again. Plus I moved to the table so the mandala did not lay on top of me because it is mighty toasty here. I could give in and put the AC on but I’m resisting. We’ve been shut up for so long I want to hear the birds sing, and even that crazy woodpecker who’s clearly not working for the government because I can see his accomplishments .:)

“Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.” ― Aristotle

Have a great day!

Mandela Madness Part 9

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This has been a relaxing selection in the Mandala crochet journey with very simple stitches and an opportunity to make sure my stitches are exact. If your using only the video it doesn’t provide you a check process like the typed our version on the designer’s site does.  I have found the stitch count at the end of each row a godsend as the size grew.  Thankfully, I only had to adjust one section of the eight sides. 🙂 http://www.crystalsandcrochet.com/mandala-madness-part-9/

It is 57 inches in circumference now.  I worked with lavender which reminds me of my lovely lilacs blooming outside. I chose the teal oddly enough because I was wearing the same color shirt and I hadn’t used it in awhile so I worked with the teal. I do want to use each color six times throughout the mandala. I chose the vivid pink because my rose buds are just beginning to open. I hope the crazy wind and torrential rain we’re having today don’t knock them all off.

I looked ahead at section 10 Tami, you may want to as well before drawing your next Tarot card. Part 10 is a large section but only uses 2 colors one is the background and one is foreground, it makes a flower with one color and the other is the backing which really highlights the flower.

As I studied part 10 and tossed around different color choices I decided that checking out the next round would help me make an informative decision. Wow, there was a mandala done totally in black and white, it’s gorgeous. The creator is Ineke Mooijenkind, from Gouda in the Netherlands .

What caught my attention even more … directions to square the edges at the end to better fit a bed. I’m definitely doing that. So there goes, I only have 50 more rounds to go out the window. I don’t know how many rounds it will take yet.

IMG_3148a

That’s Ineke lying on her masterpiece. I love how the black and white looks, I may do a second one now that I’ve seen the black and white together.

Writing Challenge Update

I managed to get 90 minutes in yesterday but not consecutively. I took a nap yesterday afternoon after hearing about my brother-in-law’s passing. Vic and I played cribbage over dinner and then I decided to log into Writing.Com and respond to the prompts I posted the night before in Blog City and BCoF. These are blogging groups that I manage on the site. In Blog City, I work with Joy, Megan and Norb, we each post prompts for the bloggers to respond to in their blogs. As leaders, we interact with them and the other bloggers encouraging conversation. IN BCoF, it is Neva and I and we also post prompts and interact with the bloggers. Between the two groups, there are 180 bloggers signed up but on the daily average, we have about 35 active bloggers each day. I responded to all the bloggers that wrote on my day in the two groups and wrote a blog entry myself.

Today, was day 2 of my turn for Blog City I’ve blogged and replied to my fellow bloggers and now I’m here putting this entry up. So far I’ve written 90 minutes and this entry isn’t done yet. 🙂  I enjoy blogging to different prompts because it is kind of like a warm up exercise for me.

Last night, I caught up on reading some of the different bloggers I follow on WordPress too. I encourage you to read Haunted by Wedding Dresses, it’s an interesting twist about voices in a woman’s head.

https://theresabarkerlabnotes.com/2017/05/12/haunted-by-wedding-dresses-part-5/

I learned a lot about monkeys and their connection in different cultures as well reading Ronel’s blog.

https://ronelthemythmaker.wordpress.com/2017/05/11/monkeys-in-mythology-and-folklore-folklorethursday/

I checked out the collection of  Printables on  Wulfie’s Essentials, she’s right there is nothing more frustrating then to see something advertised for free and then when you get there its another story.

Collection of Printable’s for All Crafters!

Timing is everything when I saw Tami’s Chocolate Truffle Cheesecake I was lying in bed and too dang lazy to get out of bed instead I dreamed a very non-caloric dream of chocolate dancing in my head. But I did leave a message asking what time is dinner and dessert Wednesday so we can drop in.

Chocolate Truffle Cheesecake Recipe

The problem with making all those tempting desserts in my home is there is only the two of us and we are dieting. ( Yes, Vic we are)  Desserts are dangerous when it comes to calories and are never done in one serving here.  Having a dessert at a restaurant does have its advantages, there are no leftovers to finish.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the awesome Moms out there.

“Youth fades; love droops; the leaves of friendship fall; A mother’s secret hope outlives them all.” —Oliver Wendell Holmes

Writing Challenge Continued

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The rough draft of the poem I shared several days ago about life in moments and another one about wildflowers I took with me to my writing critique group. They enjoyed the imagery but the feedback was the cadence was off in both. One of the authors Raz Steel suggested I merge my poems into paragraphs with punctuation and see what comes to mind with it in a different format. This is both poems together with punctuation.

  Life in a Snapshot

This morning, I saw the droplets of water on the glossy leaves and fragrant spring petals. The plants bowed in the breeze, joyful for their reprieve from Mother Nature’s exploits. The birds sang sweet melodies, and a squirrel chattered noisily. Each sure, they have the remedies for the making of a beautiful day.

I sat with my coffee cup to my right while I scribbled with my pencil on paper. I tried to keep my thoughts reined in, but I’m enchanted at the moment. My youngest kitten nudged my hand startling me out of my musing. I happily agreed to Macavity’s insistent demand.

Unable to focus, I asked Vic to come dance with me in the field of clover. Our toes tickled the sweet fragrances free. I entwined garlands of wild flowers for us to wear as the bumblebees happily buzzed from blossom to blossom. The celandine and berries add brilliant color to the spring canvas. The birds sang magical notes as we strolled hand in hand back home as the sun faded behind the treetops.

At our age, we cherish every minute in this revolving door called life.

Life in a Snapshot evolved further with Raz Steel ‘s help. He hates adverbs and redundancies and I’m guilty of using both. Needless to say, he jumped all over them and immediately brought them to my attention. I’m eternally grateful for his editing prowess.

What do you think of Life in a Snapshot now?

Droplets of water beaded on glossy leaves and spring petals this morning. The plants bowed in the breeze, joyful for their reprieve from Mother Nature’s exploits. Birds sang and squirrels chattered, each sure they had the remedy for rendering a beautiful day.

I sat with a coffee cup and scribbled with pencil on paper, my thoughts reined in, but enchanted, nonetheless. Macavity, my kitten, nudged my hand and startled me out of my musing, and I agreed to his insistent demand.

Unable to focus, I asked Vic to dance with me in the field of clover. I entwined garlands of daisies and lavender to wear, as the bumblebees buzzed from blossom to blossom. Our toes tickled the sweet fragrances free, and celandine and berries added brilliant color to the Spring canvas. Magic guided us home as we strolled hand in hand, and the sun faded behind the trees.

*************************************************************************************

My writing was derailed again. Unfortunately, it was for bad news.  My deceased husband’s aunt texted me to let me know my ex-brother-in-law Jimmy had passed away.  Wow, He’s the same age as me. Jimmy’s health had been complicated with diabetes and heart issues for some time now. I’ll miss him but I know he is in a better place.

RIP Jimmy Osborne.

angel

               Don’t Cry For Me © Deborah Garcia Gaitan

Don’t cry for me,
I will be okay.
Heaven is my home now,
and this is where I’ll stay.
Don’t cry for me,
I’m where I belong.
I want you to be happy
and try to stay strong.
Don’t cry for me,
It was just my time.
But I will see you someday
on the other side.
Don’t cry for me,
I am not alone.
The angels are with me
to welcome me home.
Don’t cry for me,
for I have no fear.
All my pain is gone,
and Jesus took my tears.
Don’t cry for me,
this is not the end.
I’ll be waiting here for you,
when we meet again.

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/dont-cry-for-me

“I have come to know that it [death] is an important thing to keep in mind — not to complain or to make melancholy, but simply because only with the honest knowledge that one day I will die I can ever truly begin to live.”

—R.A. Salvatore, The Halfling’s Gem

I’m going to give a shameless plug too for my friend, fellow author Raz Steel. He has two published books available on Amazon. I’ve posted one link the other is easy to find.

Quotes About Poetry

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rose-764267__340

“What makes a good poem? Brevity, terseness, spareness, viewing something new for the very first time, creating an image like no one has ever been blown away by before in their entire life.” ~ Lee Bennett Hopkins

” Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood. “~ T. S. Eliot

“Poetry can be dangerous, especially beautiful poetry because it gives the illusion of having had the experience without actually going through it. “~ Rumi

“Poetry is plucking at the heartstrings and making music with them.” ~ Dennis Gabor

” Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air.”~ Carl Sandburg

“Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.”~Rita Dove

“Poetry is an act of peace.”~ Pablo Neruda

“A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love

with language. “~W.H. Auden

Writing Challenge Day 2

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Yay, I accomplished 49 minutes and a poem not counting this blog entry.  🙂 I’m joining Teresa Barker and Ronel Janse van Vuuren on the productive writing challenge. Now, you’re probably thinking what’s so difficult about writing, you just do it. Easier said than done. There are so many other things that need to be done every day in a house with a messy Marvin husband and three moving hairballs. ( aka Purryl, Yeats, and Macavity, our four-legged family) The distractions are endless and I feel guilty letting everything sit while I stare at the page.  At least, I do.

A good friend said, “People go to work daily and when they come home they tackle the stuff that’s essential and get to the other stuff whenever. The problem with you is you’re not thinking of your writing as your job.  Or maybe writing isn’t to you? ”

Dang it, he’s right. 😦  I put my writing second to everything. That will be changing. 🙂

So this morning with every attention of writing for 90 minutes,  I sat for the allotted time and found myself getting lost in my thoughts before a poem came together for me. I briefly did get distracted by my surroundings and that stinker Macavity, who is mighty insistent but I did persevere.

My Life in Moments by Lyn Crain

Droplets of water on glossy leaves
and fragrant petals glisten brightly.
My plants joyful for their reprieves
from  Mother’s Natures antics 
savor these moist moments.

Birds singing sweet melodies
and squirrels chattering away.
Each sure, they have the remedies
for the making of a perfect day
create new musical moments.

Coffee cup sitting to my right
while my pencil scribbles on paper.
My thoughts wander as I write
and soon my images blur I’m
clearly lost in the moments.

My youngest kitten nudges my hand.
 He startles me out of my daydream.
 I happily agree to his insistent demand. 
His playful antics are a show stopper
highlighting our magical moments.

I discover something new to embrace
in life’s evolving door of mystery.
At my age, I cherish each place
that gives me the opportunity to
celebrate my life in the moments.

 

“When you are here and now, sitting totally not jumping ahead, the miracle has happened. To be in the moment is the miracle.”~Osho

“Forever is composed of nows.” ― Emily Dickinson

“Be present in all things and thankful for all things.” ― Maya Angelou

If you have the opportunity check out these dear ladies blogs and see how their productive writing is going.  Have a great day. 🙂

I’m off to the treadmill the other promise I made to myself to get back on track.

https://wordpress.com/read/blogs/56405964/posts/6137

https://ronelthemythmaker.wordpress.com/2017/05/07/interview-with-the-authors-of-the-herolost-anthology-mysteriesofdeathandlife/

 

Roses

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“But he who dares not grasp the thorn … Should never crave the rose.” ― Anne Brontë

“Some people are like thorns. But you have to let them be thorns because thorns can’t turn into petals. The trick is not letting them prick you; never let a thorn prick you!”
― C. JoyBell C.

“Love is like a rose. So beautiful to look at, yet so painful to touch.”
― Anonymous

“They are not long, the days of wine and roses. “~
Ernest Dowson

 

Every Rose Has It’s Thorn
Poison
We both lie silently still
In the dead of the night
Although we both lie close together
We feel miles apart inside
Was it something I said or something I did
Did my words not come out right
Though I tried not to hurt you
Though I tried
But I guess that’s why they say
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has it’s dawn
Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn
Yeah it does
I listen to your favorite song
Playing on the radio
Hear the DJ say love’s a game of easy come and easy go
But I wonder does he know
Has it ever felt like this
And I know that you’d be here right now
If I could have let you know somehow I guess
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has it’s dawn
Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song
Every… Full lyrics on Google Play Music