Him

  

He is everything and all things to me on this earth,

He carries our love with strength,

With a courage that does not expire,

Never exhausted from trivial things that matter not. 

My hope not to be a distraction, 

But to encourage his greatness. 

To be together by habit of being all; 

To be the many and adaptable; and inspired,

And to love him always in all things.
Him. 

The Foxglove Flower

  

Wild vibrant pink foxglove flower
Why do you grow on the cliff top overlooking the Gower?

Sprouting up between rocks ruins Of unforgiving crags;
So uncompromising,
Seeking a foothold in every minute In crack and crevice.

  
What shadows circle over head…
Could there be fairies here?
Living there,
Searching for death
In the search for life?

My soul rides on the wings of these shadows,
It bleeds with echoing cries,
The thorns around you are many,
But you are not dulled by the rough shards.

  
My meager knowledge offers you little comfort,
Is that why you sit alone among the crags…
When you could dance in the sky
And among the white clouds
And laughing in your own brilliance.

  
Well, do not go on and hide
In your own little niche,
Struggling for each new crevice
In which to place your roots.

I will help you go on
Unrelenting, yet a little fragile,
Threatened by every breath of wind.

  
But you are the mountain flower that graces my sight,
I will marvel at your stong moss And be on the rocks with you.

So, if you choose to be on the rock,
Be strong and ever changing,
And I know you will perservere;
Even when you as you hold on
for life and while staring at death.

  
What can one do but live on the rocks?
When thoughts remain towards sky,
I am a dreamer
And a dreamer I will remain,
But always in love you.

Even with you against the weight of my heart,
Just like the foxglove flower, whom lives in the Gower.

For my best friend.  

I love you. 

  

When you Know

   
The feel of your soft skin

that look on your face,
warm and smooth, and heat.

Delicate satin, blushing
then becoming; and flushed.

The sensual texture underneath
the fingertips; all is hushed
except for soft breaths,
listening and breathing.

Pulses beating with dire urgency,
feeling its surgency
in the rhythm of each caress,
and with every tender touch

It’s when you just know. 

Dim Cariad Fwyaf (No Greater Love)

Originally posted on American Girl in Wales... the Texas Way:


They say that you can see more stars from here in Wales than from anywhere else in the world. And that there are more stars in the heavens here than all the grains of sand on this earth.

When I think about all the places we’ve been like Paris, Venice, Athens, Cyprus and Sri Lanka, my heart always wants to go back back to Swansea. It’s where my imagination wanders back to all the long stretches of white sand on the warm beaches; Rhosilli, Mumbles, Langland and to The Gower. These are the beaches we’ve walked together and come to love.

I am thankful for finding love again and for the days we have spent together and for all the ones there are to come; I sit here with feeling blessed for the love; your son and thinking of you on this Father’s Day.

I think about how grateful I…

View original 211 more words

Beautiful 

  
“Do I love you because you’re beautiful, or are you beautiful because I love you?”

Am I making believe I see in you, a woman too perfect to be really true? 

Do I want you because you’re wonderful, or are you wonderful because I want you? 

Are you the sweet invention of a lover’s dream, or are you really as beautiful as you seem?”

– Oscar Hammerstein

The Secrets of Oceans

  

Today, I found myself lost at the furtherest point of a long beach,

How the fury of the waves made ny soul leap forth, 
And how suddenly the sense of my being became so full; 
It’s as if I were greeted by the sea. 

And so, I descend into it and dip my hand into the waves,

Meeting me as I bathed my body into its far-resounding roar, 

Then I knew its secret; I was the ocean and the ocean was within me. 

White Peonies And Scented Stocks

   

See how the purple stock bends

As though he is bowing at the knee

To him, she’s more than a flower,

For she is a peony, please. 
  

With her halo opening

Where she still longs for his nectar

In the place they too could love,

Blowing with the wind, hoping,

And making love like the rain

Awaiting the spring.   

 

She lays in his awaking 

No longer does he slumber

In the womb of her land, he sings,

Where clouds ceaselessly taking 
Their time. 

  

Waiting towards the horizon

For the morning light,

To come and open up,

Upon the altar of the earth

For the love of her heights

His beautiful white peony

That he loved; of the same soul 

And will always be 

In his sight. 

   

Never Ordinary

  
Poetry of humanity,
Of desire and insanity,
Well then, shall we dance?

Oh, sire of my vanity.

But, I should tell you

I am no man; just a gentle cat,
Not stretched with worry nor woe.

When I’m sleeping of course.

Thinking about you all the time 
That you’re extraordinary,
Perhaps I’m not even missing you.

Though, at least not too terribly.

Except do not wish for me
To be with any another,
For love is empty.

Without each other.