LoveSuicide
"It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for – and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing. It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool – for love – for your dreams – for the adventure of being alive." by: Oriah Mountain Dreamer . . . . . . . I spent 13 years on OD as LoveSuicide.
Look for beauty and you may find love. Look for love and you shall find both.
Entries 133
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On Angel's Wings in Poetry is the Window to the Soul...
There is magic within your slender fingers. The tips reach out so slowly, almost holy, and I start to shiver. What exists within me that could lure you from your lair? Would it be my tender, will...
"Paintbrush (To The Chest)" in Poetry is the Window to the Soul...
And sometimes the painting writes itself while the story, well, it is plush and powerful, but the colors lack the subtle stroke of a skilled painter, as they swash on heavy and so clumsy, ah, so ...
An Excerpt of Who Am I in Poetry is the Window to the Soul...
So she asked me almost immediately when she found out that I was a writer. I don’t know if she was trying to hide her enthusiasm or not. Either way she did a terrible job. She asked me, “What is ...
Something More Than Words in Poetry is the Window to the Soul...
And sometimes the inspiration comes from the shadows in the heart and the cherry blossoms upon the bed.. “Something More Than Words” There’s a shadow in my doorway An echo within my heart It sing...
My Hope In A Hand Grenade in Poetry is the Window to the Soul...
And sometimes the inspiration comes from a jumbled mess of what is and what is not the truth in the middle.. “My Hope In A Hand Grenade” The curtain falls Revealing weathered glass Littered with ...
The One Betrayed in Poetry is the Window to the Soul...
And sometimes the inspiration comes from the world I left, and the world I sometimes relive… “The One Betrayed” Speak softly, sweetheart Whisper in my hooded ear Tell me all those wistful lies Yo...
The Rearview in Poetry is the Window to the Soul...
An old friend brought me back here.. and the need to once more find myself. As I begin this journey through written word, I only ask of you is do your best each day to smile. See, it’s gonna get ...
"At Our Feet" in Poetry is the Window to the Soul...
She smells of vanilla scented oils. Her golden locks of hair blowing gently in the much needed breeze. And she makes me think of lilacs. Lilacs in the summertime. Oh, and she makes me wonder. Sh...
