the giant tortoise

This is the blog of Charisa, Pianist, Poet, Actress. Herein my poetry, tempests, exultations, tears and laughter are recorded upon glorious inspiration.

talk to me at dreambig16@hotmail.com

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She is red, vibrant, Pulsing to be seen, To be held and caressed. She is a petal releasing fragrance - Deep, scarlet scent; Will he notice? Will he be pleased? Oh agony! He breathes the air straight from her lungs. She is wilting - yet wills him deeper still, to uphold her crumbling strength. He is a god! A golden god. Her soul is bruised with his beauty.

Friday, June 27, 2003

'"When one thinks of being married," said Polly Kirkland gently, "it isn't a question of the man you can live with, but the man you can't live without. And I am sorry, but I've not found that man."
"I suppose," returned Ainsley gloomily, "that my not being able to live without you doesn't affect the question in the least?"
"You have lived without me, " Miss Kirkland pointed out reproachfully, "for thirty years."'
~ excerpt from The Messengers

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