Romance by Shona Silverman
Why are these things a certain way?
My friend, through tears, asks me.
Why does he break my heart today?
(Through love’s blind eyes can’t see.)
A man of words once sought like you
And perfect lover won.
He too was wrong and wrote of it
Four hundred years since gone.
So don’t tell me about your tears
And ask me what your fate.
Seek finer words, unchanged by years
In sonnet one four eight.
“Miss you” he says to me one day,
I say that cannot be.
“I can still say I miss you, no?”
His words petition me.
You tell me that you’re moving on
And searching (more or less).
“I talk to people now but it’s
Just crumbs of nothingness.”
With every love
We find in life
A certain risk
We bear
Yet love we must
Or be alone
And through the years
Despair
We ate from one plate,
Sharing food and our lives.
He looked at my face
And I watched his eyes.
He told me his secrets
And I told him mine
(Though only the ones
That we dared at this time.)
It was maybe an hour
Or longer I thought
When leaning towards me
An answer he sought.
After all we had said
And curiously late,
He earnestly asked me
“Is this a date?”
A foggy night, freezing and sleepless.
I stand outside with my cigarette.
My only friend, it lives.
It is consumed and dies
Amongst the wet leaves.
Freezing, sleepless, I live.
I am consumed and die
Amongst the wet leaves.
I lie outside with my cigarette.
On a foggy night, freezing, I sleep.
Please don’t let loneliness and despair consume you.
Reach out to someone, talk. Seek companionship.
There is someone for you.
“It is not good for the man to be by himself;
I will make him a helper as his counterpart” (Gen. 2:18)
You come to me as sunset cools,
I greet you with a smile.
You lean in close to kiss my cheek
With old-world charming style.
You talk to me, I want to hear
But I just watch your eyes.
You tell bad jokes, I laugh at them
And fumble my replies.
You hold my hand and listen as
I tell you all my lies.
You’ve heard them all before, or just
Politely hide surprise.
The waiter comes to clear away,
The dark wind plays outside.
You’ve been so kind, I’ve been a fool.
I wish I hadn’t lied.
Time is our currency, so spend it wisely. Shona x
Say I’m choosy, I don’t care.
Call me fussy if you dare.
Tattoos? That beard?
How rude, I sneered!
A silly pout?
He’s out.
There’s stocks and shares
Or bonds and funds
And managed assets too.
What shall I buy,
Who can I trust?
I don’t know what to do.
I’m promised wealth
But warned of course
That I could lose it all.
The value of
My pot of hope
May rise or it could fall.
But it’s not wealth
I’m looking for,
I have no lust for greed.
I know that I
Must risk my heart
When love is what I need.
Now shall we go our separate ways,
Our hour of love complete,
Yet knowing each within our hearts
That we again shall meet?
Nothing is happening, is it?
Shop for food, carefully,
And go to the pharmacy.
We call it the chemist here.
Exercise is permitted once a day
But stay close to your home.
Run around your garden
Or possibly your yard.
You can visit the petrol station,
That’s gas, if you aren’t British.
Though if you are American
You’d say I’m English.
It isn’t quite accurate.
But in the circumstances
English is close enough.
Nothing is happening, is it?
Our love is one of friendship,
More enduring than any other.
Forgiving and unconditional,
Unbounded by distance and time.
What if two people, together
yet in different worlds,
One world of gentle breeze
caressing sun-ripened fruit,
And one of cool mist
that veils the rising moon,
In those worlds, together
wrote a song of love and hope?
The words would surely be
the ones their hearts would write.
Image by Dimitri Houtteman from Pixabay
The man heard happy sounds, laughing.
Voices of a time and place he once knew,
A life he lived and loved, and a home
That he could never go back to
Except in his dreams.
Two boys played in the river,
Holding hands and jumping.
The man watched them for a while.
As familiar to them as the grass itself,
They didn’t seem to notice him.
The wind was warm that day,
Yellow and green striped
As it filtered through
The skinny bushes
And the summer grass.
It flowed over the man, the playing boys
And the timeless river.
Always moving on,
Touching places and people
And never turning back.
What if the sun could shine for ever
And the rising moon was misted blue?
What if the fruit of summer ripened,
Tender as the love I feel for you?
What if the lost could find each other
And when at last are found, stay true?
What if he loved me for who I am
and not just for the things I do?
A collaborative work by Sofia and Shona.
You talk to me, know I won’t tell.
You talk to me, describe your hell.
I hear your words, see me in you.
I hear your words, I’ve said them too.
You talk to me, I feel your pain.
I hear your words, we are the same.
To make it happen, dream – don’t wait.
Breathe life into it, give it shape.
Create the person that you seek,
This is the lover you shall meet.
You need a purpose in your life,
So dream it now as hope soon dies.
There is a magnet pulling you,
Your dream-world person seeks you too.
To make it happen, dream – don’t wait.
Yes, share your life. It’s not too late.
I read his words
At least three times
And each time ask
What’s in those lines?
His past, the pain
of love that failed,
A present filled
With hope now paled.
These things I see
And many more,
He wants something
He had before.
He’s had enough
Of silent pain,
He just wants love
To live again.
For SD. I pray that you find love and happiness.
This is the time
That wears its coat
Of grey.
This is the time
The heat of love
Is gone.
This is the time
Grey clinging cold
Wets me.
This is the time,
The last of mine.
Alone.
It was cold last night
And in the morning
I woke alone.
A first taste of autumn.
The leaves will fall,
I’ll walk alone.
I dreamed of summer,
A lover I haven’t met.
I dream alone.
It was cold last night.
Yes, it’s true! Coffee In Castillo is now out in paperback!
We all love a real book, don’t we? You can’t beat the wonderful feel of it, the beauty of its perfectly proportioned cover filled with dreams just waiting to be discovered.
Now you can enjoy Coffee In Castillo the way you love to read. A summer romance, its fingertip-smooth cover beautifully wrapped around clear, easy-to-read text flowing over delicate cream pages. I want you to join me in Castillo to celebrate this special launch event, so right now you can lose yourself in your own paperback copy of Coffee In Castillo for just £7.99.
Indulge yourself, rediscover the caress of sunlight on your face, enjoy the conviviality of great friends. Lose yourself in the passion of sultry Spanish evenings.
You’re meeting Abbey and Lewis at Cafetería de la Luz for coffee today – don’t be late!
Shona x
I scream and cry,
Tearing at my clothes.
I cover my face
With hands already wet.
I turn to the sky
And shout to him, accusing.
“My God, my God!
Why have you done this to me?”
There is no answer.
This is a guest post, a memory of DB. If you are in despair too then please don’t keep it within. You cannot heal alone. Talk to your family, your friends, anyone you trust. Believe me, it will get a little easier for you as the years pass.
You had a gramophone
With a handle that you wound.
Do you remember?
On those warm nights
We danced with the music
And the moon and the stars.
Just you and me and a gramophone
Making music by the river.
Do you remember?
Image © 2019 Shona Silverman
I am high up on a hillside.
My eyes see valleys, forests.
All green, so much green
And I am moving, never still.
The valleys pass, trees slip by.
I could be carried, walking,
Riding on a bicycle perhaps.
It does not feel like that.
Now I am in a forest
Following a man, dark
With a cloak, calf length.
Hooded, from a time gone by.
What is he looking for?
I see his back, hiding.
Perhaps he is hunting,
Searching for something.
He turns to me and sinks below.
I rise, look down upon him.
Under his hood, your eyes green
In another man’s face.
His mouth is open, drinking.
I am swallowed, spreading,
Filling his body and I know
That I am the brook.
I sit on the bench,
The sun is hot.
Clouds come
And melt away.
Distant music,
One car passes.
Birdsong and voices,
A dog barks.
My skin burns,
It feels good.
I sit on the bench
And wait for the storm.
What is it like
Early in the morning?
Just you and the birds
And the rising sun.
Wind stirs the cherry tree
And your memories.
Do you remember
The life that you once had?
Children played on the swing
In the rising sun.
Wind stirred their golden hair,
Caressed a lost world.
What is it like
Early in the morning?
Just you and the birds
And your memories.
I am allowed out once a day
for exercise and listening to birds.
I don’t want to go outside.
So I hide in the cupboard
where it’s dark and warm
and no-one can see me.
It’s safe here and it actually smells
quite nice.
I’ll clean the house
and read the news.
Make or craft
Something to use.
Frame a picture,
check the views.
And all the time
I’ll think of you.
I am sorry I was tearful.
I miss your eyes.
A small black hut waits
In the boundless white.
The snow-specked wind
Drags its heartless cloak
Over the window,
Binds shut the door.
One chair and a clock wait
In a small black hut.
I need a hug –
A proper one,
And not the sort
You send by text
I need a kiss –
A proper one,
And not the sort
Spelled with an X
Don’t try to say it in a text,
Things only get confused.
He’ll miss your point and read you wrong
And then you’ll end up bruised.
First he writes this, then you write that,
He does not hear your tone.
So next time that you want to chat
Just call him on the phone!
It was just
A week ago,
I met him in the park.
The spring-time sun
Caressed my face
And new hope warmed my heart.
The trees leaned in
And tried to hear
The words we whispered there.
His green eyes smiled,
He kissed my lips,
Our silent secrets shared.
I had to leave
And now we are
A thousand miles apart.
Was it really
Just last week
I met him in the park?
He called me when I needed him
And asked me “what is wrong?”
“I just don’t know” (although I did),
But how could I explain?
He called me when I needed him,
I tried to find the words.
“It’s this and that and something else,”
He listened to my list.
He called me when I needed him
And hugged me on the phone.
He sent me love, in wisdom wrapped,
(I hope he calls again!)
Striding over fleeting years,
The earth under my feet
Rotates so fast I trip and fall
And graze my hands and knees.
My legs are growing longer,
The years are getting short.
I don’t know how to stop this ride,
This speeding juggernaught.
He’s the best I’ve met in years,
He’s wise and kind and good.
So why am I so stupid,
Is my heart made of wood?
For lunch today
I see my friend.
We eat and talk
And don’t pretend.
Review our lives,
Discuss our fears.
We laugh and then
Maybe some tears.
I like his shirt,
He loves my hair.
The cake arrives,
We smile and share.
Each secret aired,
Unspoken trust.
Though intimate,
It’s love not lust.
No fear of hurt,
Or need to hide.
A chance to talk
Of fears inside.
Don’t live your life
In solitude.
You need a friend
Like mine, with food.
You turn my thoughts
Into a whirl
Of senseless words
That dance and curl.
Each morning when
I rise from bed
This foolish dance
Trips in my head.
Words take their partners,
Dance a waltz.
What purpose serves
This unasked schmaltz?
And thus love takes
Its unkind toll.
It steals my heart
And tears my soul.
I must break free,
Be roused from verse
And find the way
To break this curse.
A ride far North
To your fair land,
Upon the fell
I’ll take your hand.
A quick poem, with the simplest metre and rhyme.
Inspired by love and archaic verse.
He calls me and says
He’s tired, so sleepy.
He’s coming to see me
From a place in the North.
I tell him I’m fearful,
It’s a long way to drive.
I’ll be fine, he says,
I just follow the heart.
Image © 2019 Shona Silverman.
It’s horrid when you’ve got a cold.
You cough and sneeze and your nose drips.
Your eyeballs hurt, so do your hips.
Your head is filled with mud and glop.
You just can’t write, so I must stop!
It’s colder today
The clouds have come back
I saw him last night
His hate in my dreams
Death did not release
The clutch of his fear
It’s cold in my heart
The clouds have come back
This is a guest post by a survivor
My roof is leaking
Drip, drip, drip
I collect it in a pot
And it is filling up
My lover is away
Drip, drip, drip
His phone calls come
And fill the pot of hope
He brings to me
The dusk embrace
Of love’s soft cloak,
And I say to him:
“When we make love
Our world
Is dark red,
But it’s safe.”
Bare trees watch
Cold water, silent,
Slipping past
As winter waits.
I stand and watch
My dreams slip past.
What have I now
But silence, cold?
Image © 2019 Shona Silverman.
The dreams come here
To punish me
For things I did,
Or should have done.
Lovers that left
And those I spurned,
People who cared
Yet wake no more.
They come to me
In night’s black cloak.
I wake up cold,
Alone with them.
I am flattered and humbled. Jessica at I Don’t Write Poetry nominated Coffee In Castillo for the Sunshine Blogger Award. Thank you Jessica! Your insightful, heartfelt poetry is always inspirational and I love reading your blog every day. For those of you who have yet to meet Jessica, please don’t hesitate – take a look now, I think you’ll love her work.
Now then, about the Sunshine Blogger Award. This is a peer award to recognise and elevate the blogs we all love to read. Recipients answer 11 questions posed by the nominator, then nominate a further 11 blogs for the award and pose 11 new questions to them.
Of course I follow a number of blogs but incredibly it’s rather less than 11 of them. Those that I do follow are special to me and I hold them close to my heart. Sadly though, this means that I can’t nominate 11 bloggers and I am unable to accept the award. I shall, however, answer the 11 questions posed by Jessica. Thank you again for your nomination and the immense pleasure you bring to us with I Don’t Write Poetry.
Don’t put me on a pedestal,
It’s so far down to fall.
My faults you close your eyes to now,
In time you’ll see them all.
My inner fears, my flaws and needs:
Humility, not shame.
So take me whole, both bad and good
And I’ll take you the same.
You find me on
A summer’s day
And in my head
The fool says no.
And then again,
As new year starts
You reach for me,
I don’t know why.
A force unseen
Now guides our way
And love unites
Two lonely hearts.
I would never have dreamed
In a million years
That you would come
And bring me flowers.
I would never have dreamed
In a million years
That there could be
A love like ours.
I would never have dreamed
In a million years
That we would meet
In body and mind.
I would never have dreamed
In a million years…
Is this dream real,
Are we entwined?
Emotional drought,
Thirst of the heart.
Hope dies, clouds gather
When there is no love.
Yet from those clouds
Rain is coming.
Let it wet your skin,
Be cleansed, love again.
Take off with Abbey and fly with her into the sunlit world of Coffee In Castillo, the compelling new romance from Shona Silverman.
Indulge yourself in this dreamy, nimbly-paced page-turner where love and intrigue, hope and desire collide. Leave the chill rain of England behind and experience the exotic heat of the Spanish summer.
Follow Abbey in her quest for true love today. The sultry charm of a Spanish hideaway awaits you so be part of the story now for just 99p/99c!
Single
Then no more alone
Double
In love and in bed
Single
Think of nobody else
Double
Paired thoughts in your head
Single
Just pick up the phone
Double
Leave no thoughts unsaid
This is pointless
Such hope isn’t right
This is endless
Waiting for tonight
This is silly
Butterflies and fear
This is absurd
Choosing what to wear
This is foolish
Pretending he’ll be mine
This is crazy
I say it every time
He called me
This morning,
Come out to play.
I’m lonely
And need a friend.
He called me
This morning.
The child within
Is lonely,
She wants to play.
He called me
This morning.
I let me go,
Allowed myself
To play outside.
He called me
This morning.
The child within,
Not lonely,
Has found a friend.
There’s a complimentary copy of Coffee In Castillo waiting for you right here, but hurry as this special offer closes at midnight tonight. Not got a Kindle? No problem – simply add the free Amazon Kindle app to any device and you’re good to go. Grab the Kindle app here.
Take off with Abbey and fly with her into the sunlit world of Coffee In Castillo, the compelling new romance from Shona Silverman.
Indulge yourself in this dreamy, nimbly-paced page-turner where love and intrigue, hope and desire collide. Leave the chill rain of England behind and experience the exotic heat of the Spanish summer. Explore shady streets on breathless afternoons, sit with Lewis under a star-lit evening sky. Share Abbey’s hopes and fears, her sorrow and joy. Laugh with the locals in a little café, mingle with colourful fiesta crowds, walk with Abbey along a lonely seashore.
Follow Abbey in her quest for true love today. The sultry charm of a Spanish hideaway awaits you so be part of the story right now. Remember this offer ends today so grab your FREE copy here!
Yes, it’s true and there’s no catch. This weekend you can get your copy of Coffee In Castillo for Kindle completely FREE. Not got a Kindle? No problem – simply add the free Amazon Kindle app to any device and you’re good to go. Get the Kindle app right here.
Take off with Abbey and fly with her into the sunlit world of Coffee In Castillo, the compelling new romance from Shona Silverman.
Indulge yourself in this dreamy, nimbly-paced page-turner where love and intrigue, hope and desire collide. Leave the chill rain of England behind and experience the exotic heat of the Spanish summer. Explore shady streets on breathless afternoons, sit with Lewis under a star-lit evening sky. Share Abbey’s hopes and fears, her sorrow and joy. Laugh with the locals in a little café, mingle with colourful fiesta crowds, walk with Abbey along a lonely seashore.
Follow Abbey in her quest for true love today. The sultry charm of a Spanish hideaway awaits you so be part of the story right now. Download your FREE copy here today!
I’m tired, he said,
Working long days.
Yes, we can talk,
Maybe tomorrow.
I’m tired, I said,
Waiting long days.
No, we can’t talk,
New man tomorrow.
Cannot abide his folly,
Another promise broken.
Cannot abide his folly,
Alone to cry again.
How can a man be worthy
Of beauty, heart and soul?
How can a man be worthy
Of love and passion deep?
When you make your choice,
Remember what you did.
When you make your choice,
Don’t make me cry again.
She stooped,
her back to him.
Tiny cheeks,
muscled, tight.
A narrow cleft
dusted with hair.
Innocence waiting
to be broken.
I shall not fear
The forest night,
Where voices call
From unseen boughs.
Through moonlight creep
To find my place,
By the red rock
Where lovers meet.
From blackened wood
Moon shadows move,
I turn to watch
The moonlight play.
Shapes turn and form,
My body needs.
I shall not fear
The forest night.
She dreams
As the sun sets behind them.
Warm wind teases her hair
As he pulls her close.
She dreams
Of how their lips will touch.
The growing heat
Of bodies pressing closer.
She dreams
But she walks alone.
Grey rain chills her face
But not her thoughts.
She dreams
That he will come to her,
Take her to another place.
That he will save her.
Take off with Abbey and fly with her into the sunlit world of Coffee In Castillo, the compelling new romance from Shona Silverman.
Indulge yourself in this dreamy, nimbly-paced page-turner where love and intrigue, hope and desire collide. Leave the chill rain of England behind and experience the exotic heat of the Spanish summer.
Follow Abbey in her quest for true love today. The sultry charm of a Spanish hideaway awaits you so be part of the story now for just 99p/99c!
I don’t complain very often. Well, not in public anyway. I’m going to make an exception, but along with my grumbling there’s going to be a promise too, so that’s not so bad, is it?
And what am I complaining about? A single word, but my, what a terrible scourge it has become. The word is stunning. Have you noticed how insidious it is? Its barbed tentacles grow longer every day, gripping and suffocating, smothering and choking the life out of billboards and magazines, brochures and websites.
A pretty girl? She’s stunning.
A picturesque beach? It’s stunning.
An incredible sunset? Yes, that’s stunning too.
Despite the availability of countless alternatives this one adjective is simply everywhere, like mobile phones and young men with beards. And it seems there is no escape. So here is my promise. I solemnly declare that Coffee In Castillo has always been, is and shall always remain a stunning-free realm.
There’s a copy of Coffee In Castillo waiting for you right here, and it’s just 99p or 99c. Not got a Kindle? No problem – simply add the free Amazon Kindle app to any device and you’re good to go. Grab the Kindle app here.
Take off with Abbey and fly with her into the sunlit world of Coffee In Castillo, the compelling new romance from Shona Silverman.
Indulge yourself in this dreamy, nimbly-paced page-turner where love and intrigue, hope and desire collide. Leave the chill rain of England behind and experience the exotic heat of the Spanish summer. Explore shady streets on breathless afternoons, sit with Lewis under a star-lit evening sky. Share Abbey’s hopes and fears, her sorrow and joy. Laugh with the locals in a little café, mingle with colourful fiesta crowds, walk with Abbey along a lonely seashore.
Follow Abbey in her quest for true love today. The sultry charm of a Spanish hideaway awaits you so be part of the story right now. Grab your copy here!
I lift weights.
To look good,
To feel well.
I lift weights.
To be strong,
To carry on.
I lift weights.
To put down,
To feel light.
I lift weights.
Am I strong?
Am I light?
I lift weights.
With empty hands,
With empty heart.
I lift weights.
Each year’s day,
Each day’s hour.
I lift weights.
Of my losses,
Of my dreams.
I must have made coffee
At half past eight that day,
Then read the news by nine o’clock,
The weather forecast too.
It surely rained as always,
The day before you came.
I must have breakfasted at ten o’clock
Washed flakes with cold, white milk.
At eleven pushed myself,
With exercise, weights or something else.
Played music, cleaned the house,
The day before you came.
At twelve or so, I just don’t know,
Perhaps I watched the rain.
After that I must have checked
The faces on a dating page.
Of course they never changed,
The day before you came.
I must have lunched at one o’clock
And lunch for one it was.
At two I cleared my paperwork,
I hate to fall behind.
All done and in its place,
The day before you came.
I must have started writing
At three o’clock or so.
This poem, maybe more,
I wrote of love of course.
I’d forgotten how it feels,
The day before you came.
At five o’clock or soon beyond,
I’m certain that my work was done.
I must have made my evening meal,
Nothing special, much the same.
Then watched TV an hour or two,
The day before you came.
I must have gone to bed at ten,
I never stay up late.
The only voice a spoken book,
Another chapter of the same.
And yes, I’m sure I felt a sense
Of living without aim.
The day before you came.
“You don’t get lonely, do you?” she asserts. I am dumbstruck, fumbling to put together a credible reply. She’s a close friend, we’ve known each other for years. Perhaps that’s the problem. I believed we knew each other well but she is simply wrong, so wrong. If she really believes what she is saying then she does not “know” me at all.
Of course I get lonely sometimes, we all do. So lonely it burns. That she can’t perceive this astonishes me, but then I ask myself why. Is it something in her, perhaps a lack of insight or empathy? Or is it me? Maybe I hide things well, even if I am not consciously aware of doing it. It makes some kind of sense to keep one’s innermost fears and secrets hidden behind a facade. We all have things that we feel shame about and we don’t like to be judged upon them.
There’s something else I must tell you about. Jealousy. There is something in her tone of voice that gives it away, a bitterness, a hint of resentment that colours her words. It’s as if she is saying “You don’t get lonely, do you? I do. It’s not fair.”
There’s no time to go off on an “it’s not fair” tangent. She’s still waiting for my reply. “I do get lonely sometimes,” I admit, “but I like to spend some time alone too.” It is the best that I can do. A pathetic little admission, followed up with an even more pitiful attempt to rationalise it.
Does she know me? Do I know me? I used to think so… now I’m not so sure.
The pool is still there,
Up the steps
Where happy people
Laugh and love.
Their world is sun and blue.
My heart is still there,
Up the steps.
But I no longer
Laugh or love.
My world was sun and blue.
The cicadas chirped
As evening cooled.
In single beds we called
“Come here.”
Together we dreamed,
Our ways entwined.
Cicadas still chirp
As evening cools.
In single beds we call
“Goodnight, dear”
And turn over to dream
Our separate ways.
On our honeymoon
We took a pedalo
Across the water,
Pedalling together
In time and in love.
I stand on the beach
And watch a pedalo
Across the water,
They move together
In time and in love.
He turns to her
Then laughter comes
Across the water,
Lapping cold at my feet
And I am alone.
Secret tracks wait,
Lined silver green,
Climb hillsides touched
By summer sun.
With my love I walked
Those secret tracks,
Olive groves caressed
By summer sun.
The trees still wait,
But love, long lost,
No longer walks
The secret tracks.
There’s a complimentary copy of Coffee In Castillo waiting for you right here, but hurry as this special offer closes at midnight tonight. Not got a Kindle? No problem – simply add the free Amazon Kindle app to any device and you’re good to go. Grab the Kindle app here.
Take off with Abbey and fly with her into the sunlit world of Coffee In Castillo, the compelling new romance from Shona Silverman.
Indulge yourself in this dreamy, nimbly-paced page-turner where love and intrigue, hope and desire collide. Leave the chill rain of England behind and experience the exotic heat of the Spanish summer. Explore shady streets on breathless afternoons, sit with Lewis under a star-lit evening sky. Share Abbey’s hopes and fears, her sorrow and joy. Laugh with the locals in a little café, mingle with colourful fiesta crowds, walk with Abbey along a lonely seashore.
Follow Abbey in her quest for true love today. The sultry charm of a Spanish hideaway awaits you so be part of the story right now. Remember this offer ends today so grab your FREE copy here!
Yes, it’s true and there’s no catch. This weekend you can get your copy of Coffee In Castillo for Kindle completely FREE. Not got a Kindle? No problem – simply add the free Amazon Kindle app to any device and you’re good to go. Get the Kindle app right here.
Take off with Abbey and fly with her into the sunlit world of Coffee In Castillo, the compelling new romance from Shona Silverman.
Indulge yourself in this dreamy, nimbly-paced page-turner where love and intrigue, hope and desire collide. Leave the chill rain of England behind and experience the exotic heat of the Spanish summer. Explore shady streets on breathless afternoons, sit with Lewis under a star-lit evening sky. Share Abbey’s hopes and fears, her sorrow and joy. Laugh with the locals in a little café, mingle with colourful fiesta crowds, walk with Abbey along a lonely seashore.
Follow Abbey in her quest for true love today. The sultry charm of a Spanish hideaway awaits you so be part of the story right now. Download your FREE copy here today!
Remember the island of dreams.
I walked with my love
Through olive groves.
Air thick with heat,
Joyful insects calling.
Now I walk alone
Through olive groves,
Dragging through dust,
Mournful insects calling.
Remember the island of lost dreams.
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She lies back and floats in the pool,
Her breasts are round hills, sweet fruit.
He floats with her and their eyes connect.
Waves sparkle, reflections of their hearts.
I lie back and watch the pool, once my world
When my breasts were sweet fruit.
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I close my eyes
And warm wind teases.
It plays with my hair,
Slips over bare shoulders.
I reach out to him
And his joyless glance
Is all that remains
Of our faded love.
I cry for the times
We loved and played,
As the warm wind
Slipped over our shoulders.
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My hair is black, my skin is brown.
We make love in the afternoon heat
While the sea sparkles in the southern sun.
My hair is grey, my skin is worn.
I read a book in the afternoon heat.
The sea still sparkles in the southern sun.
He started the engine,
She climbed on behind.
Sitting astride she reached
To hold him.
The engine grew loud,
Together they moved.
She was always safe
Riding with him.
Paper flowers, crumbling dry
Where once was beauty.
Summer drought burned
And beauty died.
Bitter hearts, cheerless hurt
Where once was love.
Spring dreams faded
And love died.
I sit in the same place
And watch the river.
You are not here,
I miss you already.
I want you to choose me,
To change and to try.
Bring me flowers and a card
That says you are sorry.
Restless in body and restless in mind,
Waiting to hear words from you.
I know why it happened and what I did wrong,
Jumped in, defences too few.
Addiction was fast and I did not resist,
Withdrawal a cruel retreat.
Uncaring, heartless, you think you are strong,
Silence reflects your conceit.
Walking to wash out your drug from my head,
Waiting to hear words from you.
One Man
A Loved Man
Handsome, Cheeky
Stylish, Naughty, Marvellous
Interesting, Intelligent
Perfect
One Man
A Complex Man
Drunken, Sad
Fickle, Ignorant, Selfish
Egocentric, Missing
Lost
One Man
Turning my back
And walking away.
The hardest thing
I’ve ever done.
Away from you,
Breaking my heart.
Must keep walking,
Do not stop.
The last “I love you”
Never dies.
I left a piece
Of me with you.
I look for you, where are you now?
I seek your face, repeat your name.
Intelligent, a man with flair,
With skilful touch but selfish game.
A handsome face that let me down.
I can’t hate you, my fault I’m lonely
A complex man, so special, rare.
You’re still my favourite “if only”.
You’re gone and yet still here,
Infusing my thoughts.
You’re silent and yet you speak,
Leaving my goodbye unanswered.
You’re gone and yet I see you,
A face of sorrow, one single tear.
You’re strong and yet too weak
To change your ways for me.
You’re gone and yet unknowing,
I was ready to say I love you.
It’s written on paper,
The past cannot be changed.
I left him with a message,
A message leaving him.
Facing a new day
Through weeping eyes.
A new chapter begins,
What will I write?
He broke my heart. No, he did not.
I was the one who let him do it.
He asks me to stay. I want to go.
I am the one who is hurt.
It could be different. So wonderful.
But instead it burns inside.
I let him come in. Let him get close.
Allowed him to hurt me.
My eyes burn. Heart of pain.
My head says run away.
No promises from him. No matter.
Even his words cannot be trusted.
I wait for night to come. To pass.
To sleep away my goodbye.
The night comes. With the tears.
Thoughts of the man who does not care.
What is next? What should I do?
The same thoughts again and again.
I let him come in. Let him get close.
This mess is of my making.
Armour on. Defences up.
This will never happen again.
Lesson learnt. Smarter now.
But tonight he broke my heart.
I see his eyes caress
The one he loves today.
His wife watches them,
A sad smile, her life goes on.
I wonder which is me,
The one with sadness in her eyes?
He holds his lover’s hand,
His wife turns and my heart cries.
I step from the shower and he is there, watching.
Smiling inside as fragrant water drips,
I wiggle just a little bit as if to shake it off
And turn around, bending for the towel.
He exhales noisily and I pretend not to hear,
Still smiling inside I turn to face him.
Now the towel is around my shoulders,
It moves over me and he is spellbound.
I wrap my breasts from view, his gaze lowers.
The towel follows it down, his mouth is open.
Oh what power I wield with the flick of cloth!
I lift it to dry my hair, he rises to my command.
The towel is around me again, he steps forward.
Face lowered, my eyelash gaze speaks silently.
I feel strong arms around my shoulders,
He kisses my face, his hands explore.
I press against him, hot inside the towel.
His lips are on my neck, I gasp at his power!
The towels falls softly away
And I am enwrapped in his love.
I lied.
Lied to myself
When I said he loved me.
Lied to the world
When I said I was happy.
Lied to my diary
When I said it was good.
Lied to my heart
When I said it was right.
Lied to my soul
When I said he was mine.
Lied to him too
When I said I loved him.
I lied.
I hold my glass,
Sitting on the bench.
A review of the important things:
Lovers, conflicts, mistakes, regrets.
It’s summer solstice, the longest day.
Last year I had hope.
I lift my glass
And realise this is the low point.
I hold my glass,
Sitting on the bench.
A review of the important things:
Lovers, friends, success, satisfaction.
It’s summer solstice again.
Last year I had no hope.
I lift my glass
And realise that my life is good.
Meet me at the tea shop
Where you stand and choose
From endless rows of exquisites,
Things that they call tea.
You couldn’t dream the brews they do,
Hot or iced for twice the choice.
Fruits and herbs, vanilla too,
Blended in unexpected harmony.
We sit together at the back,
Exchanging gossip, glasses raised.
One hot, one iced and both delights,
Things that they call tea.
We talk about the things we love,
Our different worlds connected.
One hot, one iced and both delights,
Friends in unexpected harmony.
He’s poorly today
I offer comfort
He’s grouchy today
I am rejected
He’s peevish today
I am amiss
He’s cranky today
I offer tea
He’s prickly today
I don’t mind
He’s poorly today
I love him
Curves and loops
Grow on my skin.
Does beauty without
Echo beauty within?
The artist’s touch
I do not feel.
Two cultures meet,
Find peace surreal.
Arthur is his name,
Endless cheer his game.
His smile is very wide,
It warms me up inside.
Each day when I get up
He’s waiting with his cup.
It overflows with joy,
There’s no more cheerful boy.
I’ve coffee in my mug,
He’s waiting for a hug.
I drink until it’s gone,
While smiling he looks on.
The only mouse
That’s in my house
Sits by him near,
Mouse without fear.
His eyes are small,
His tail is tall.
He looks at you,
You must smile too.
More I could write,
No end in sight.
But dreadful verse
Is best kept terse.
Arthur is my cat,
And that’s the end
Of that.
Back on the street side,
Into sunlight’s warm caress.
At once feeling unhurried,
Time to have coffee.
Round tables in a little café,
Hugging under bright umbrellas
That flap and fuss
In hazed summer breeze.
This Spanish afternoon
Is late, with empty chairs
Except one man.
She hadn’t noticed him.
Her eyes compelled.
Lifting a cup to drink
He moves, a subtle glance.
Does he see her?
Looking down she hides,
Demurely watches his hands.
One holds an open book,
The other finds a slim cigar.
He turns to face her,
Sunglasses lifted.
Intelligent eyes light
A well-tanned face.
He says hello.
Embarrassed gasp,
Her reply fumbles
An apology, brushed aside.
His smile disarms,
She sits with him.
Small talk starts
A new chapter.
She’s beautiful
But he can’t see.
Soulful eyes,
Her face delight.
Honeyed voice
Of caramel.
Confident yet sensitive,
Knows her mind
And stands her ground.
I can see she’s beautiful.
He sees her eyes
But not her soul,
Hears her words
In monotone.
He’s brazen and insensitive,
Can’t know her mind
Or share her world.
Unfulfilled she waits.
He takes her when
He’s minded to,
Neglects her love
In days between.
She’s beautiful
But he can’t see.
I take his hand, pull him close,
Hug him, ask for more.
I’m feeling very huggy today,
I tell him and his eyes smile.
I have to go now, he says,
You can have lots of hugs later.
His hand slips from mine,
Yet we are still connected.
The wind blows over England.
Clouds, dark, threaten the land.
Rain falls, the people hide.
The wind blows over England.
Clouds part, tear open ragged blue.
Sun warms, the people smile.
The wind blows over my world.
Clouds, dark, threaten me.
Rain falls, miserable I hide.
The wind blows over my world.
Clouds part, tear open lighting me.
Love comes, I smile again.
I’m going for a walk, he said.
The usual route? I asked.
I don’t know, but probably.
Thank you, see you soon.
What did he thank me for?
Sharing my home, a place for him,
A refuge when he’s lost.
He shares my home but not my bed,
Breaks away from my embrace.
I am the fool, I am the clown.
I guess he’s halfway round by now.
Walking through the woods,
Listing all my faults aloud.
Do I really want him back,
For loveless hugs and soulless chat?
Perhaps he won’t return this time.
I’m going for a walk, he said.
I need something to focus on,
In the future, not too long.
I dream of love, wait for the one
To keep me going, make me strong.
The precious years are passing me,
But I’m not wishing time away.
I live alone, no-one to see,
I could just book a holiday.
Imagine two weeks in the sun,
I’ll write it in my diary.
Beach and pool with night-time fun,
Perhaps by then you’ll come to me.
I watch TV, he waits for me.
I want to be back there.
I send a message on my phone,
I might be coming round.
I can’t be sure, I have to wait,
Is that ok with you?
Of course it is, he lies barefaced,
Come over when you can.
I hate to keep him holding on,
It’s such a silly game.
I wish the demons wouldn’t fight
A war waged in my head.
They tie me down with ropes unseen,
He must not see my shame.
I watch TV at night and wait
To go back there again.
I watch TV and wait for him,
Maybe he’ll come tonight.
The actors move and speak in turn,
It’s clean and tidy, no mistakes.
A message on my phone tells me
He might be coming round.
He can’t be sure, he has to wait,
Is that ok with me?
Of course it is, I lie barefaced,
Come over when you can.
Real life is never clean and tidy,
No-one waits in turn.
It’s messy and confusing,
I am powerless in this game.
So I just watch TV at night
And wait for him to come.
Allow yourself time to reflect,
A chance to review your world.
It doesn’t matter where you are,
Or who might be watching.
They cannot hear your thoughts,
Or perceive your desires.
No-one is a mind-reader,
Despite what they might wish.
On the train the world slips past,
It passes by your window.
Life is your journey,
A dream passing before your eyes.
Remember as you travel
The ones you love, the ones you lost.
Allow yourself a chance,
While there’s still time to reflect.
She once heard that the mountain goat
Has longer legs on left or right.
To make life easy on the slope,
It isn’t true, not even might.
She also heard it’s winter time
When flu attacks and weakens you.
Although she fell for that old line,
Odd-legged goats are just as true.
Listless, fevered, feeling blue,
Headache matched by her sore throat.
She now believes in summer flu,
But not odd legs on some old goat.
Imagine your perfect lover.
Let’s start with the basics, shall we?
Height first. Let me guess… taller than you.
Dark skin. Mmm, that’s always romantic.
Picture his body, make it as you like.
Now look up into his eyes.
Are they green, brown or blue?
You are the conjurer, creating your fantasy.
Colour his hair, hear his voice, smell his skin.
Your shopping list is complete.
Tonight he walks into your life.
Taller than you, dark skin, just like your dream.
You imagined this man and now he’s here.
Talk to him, watch him, feel him.
Now tell me, is he really what you want?
Doubt creeps in, the fantasy fades.
I think you forgot some things.
You never said he should be intelligent,
A practical man, caring and creative.
Confident, sensitive and considerate.
It’s time to start again.
Now imagine your perfect lover.
Don’t get caught
In the trap.
You wait for love
And wish.
You hope for love
And wait.
This is not love,
Vanilla sweet.
This is poison,
Saccharine bait.
Ambush and deceit
Caught me.
Check for the hook
Before you bite.
Don’t get caught
In the trap.
Wake in the morning
Alone, of course.
Can’t focus my eyes
Or marshal my thoughts.
I have to face
Another bleak day.
Put on some coffee,
Push through the grey.
I knew you well,
Or so I thought
From times we laughed
And when we fought.
But after years
You made me freeze
The first time that
I heard you sneeze.
Affection rejection.
How I wish I could read his mind.
Why does he love me for a week
Then turn away, rejecting affection?
Daring caring.
I hug him and I pull him close,
Caress his shoulders, kiss his cheek.
To win him back I dare to care.
Passion ration.
If I could understand his ways,
Regain his trust, find what I seek.
Enough now of rationing passion.
Wear despair.
I lay myself out in front of him
He looks away, rejection bleak.
Dressed again, I am wearing despair.
Mourn forlorn.
I reason it’s his changing moods
But it’s my fault, I am too weak.
Forlorn of hope, I mourn.
So much planned,
A schedule quite grand.
A message arrived,
My schedule deprived.
I did as she asked,
In happiness basked.
A job well done
For me is no fun.
Responding to need
Is rewarding indeed.
What is it like
To help?
“Help me!”
Is humility.
Humility indeed,
Now listen.
Listen and talk,
Judge not.
Not just once,
every time.
Time for him.
To help.
He walks ahead,
My pace too slow.
Rising track
From forest dark.
Bird song lines
A sandy way.
Drained, fatigued,
The gap grows more.
Hedges bind
A hiding place.
Waiting there,
His eyes love me.
I am just a rag doll
With a smile upon my face.
I will give you comfort and love
And you can throw me around.
Nothing you do can hurt me
Or make me sad.
Fore I am just a rag doll
With a smile upon my face.
This morning brought
A hint of summer,
Scented on the breeze.
With shadows soft
And milky clouds,
I thought it just a tease.
This afternoon
A yellow ship
Sailed high above my head.
With shameless lies
It burned my skin,
How I had been misled!
He visits me in summer, well prepared
With sunglasses, frozen fish and funny tea.
I watch him when his eyes are closed,
We bake the fish and drink the tea.
The sun warms our skin, love warms our hearts
When he visits me in summer.
Like a little boy
He stood on a chair.
To look over the fence
At the watery sound.
He stood on a chair
Like a little boy.
Take off with Abbey and fly with her into the sunlit world of Coffee In Castillo, the compelling new romance from Shona Silverman.
Indulge yourself in this dreamy, nimbly-paced page-turner where love and intrigue, hope and desire collide. Leave the chill rain of England behind and experience the exotic heat of the Spanish summer. Explore shady streets on breathless afternoons, sit with Lewis under a star-lit evening sky. Share Abbey’s hopes and fears, her sorrow and joy. Laugh with the locals in a little café, mingle with colourful fiesta crowds, walk with Abbey along a lonely seashore.
Follow Abbey in her quest for true love today. The sultry charm of a Spanish hideaway awaits you so be part of the story right now for just 99p/99c!
Enjoy Coffee In Castillo on your Kindle, or use your iPad, iPhone or any Android device simply by grabbing the free Kindle app.
I run my fingers over grey bones,
Trace out skeletons that never lived.
I lift the paper’s yellowed edge,
It’s last month’s news.
My nails, dirty, broken, peel the paint
From sunburnt cars that no-one wants.
My world is black rocks and broken roads,
You will leave and I won’t care.
Stubborn life, poverty rooted
In crumbling rock and sand.
Fierce and thorny to survive,
Waiting for the rain.
Love comes, thorns do not defend.
Beauty flowers, blushing pink
In ephemeral, fleeting delight.
Revel now, for this is you.
Merciless drought, cruel, uncaring
Drying, dying, despairing
An unforeseen downpour of rain
Rescued from drought once again
Rescue will come with a start
Love is the rain of the heart
Today you can join Abbey in Castillo for free! Fly out to Spain with Abbey, meet Lewis in Juan’s little café, walk with them along the beach and through the old town.
Download your free sample of Coffee In Castillo right now and embark on the romantic journey of your dreams. You can read this PDF on any device including your laptop, iPad, iPhone or Android tablet or mobile phone.
I hope you’ll enjoy your free sample of Coffee In Castillo. Be sure to have coffee with Abbey in Cafetería de la Luz whilst you’re there. Will Abbey’s hopes become reality? Will Lewis be everything she dreams of? Could Rita or Luke stand in her way? What roles will Vanessa and Jackie play? There’s so much more to discover and you’re invited to stay on in Castillo as the story unfolds.
I’d love your feedback even if it’s just a few words so please tell me what you think. Thank you for spending time with us in the romantic, colourful world of Coffee In Castillo.
Shona x
She holds him at midnight.
Suffused in love,
Drifting into sleep.
Drifting into sleep,
Safe in the harbour
Of his protection.
The day is no longer young.
From a dream she awakes,
Nothing has changed.
Nothing has changed,
He’s still there.
His heart is her haven.
She’s crying at midnight.
Sick with loss,
Crying for sleep.
Crying for sleep,
The only way out
Is valium and vodka.
The day is no longer young.
Sick with tears she awakes,
Nothing has changed.
Nothing has changed
And all that’s left
Is valium and vodka.
Sorry it’s rather dark in here.
I’ve opened the curtains
But it’s always raining.
What’s that you tell me?
You remember this place.
Hasn’t changed much, has it?
No, things don’t change,
They just fade a little
And the loss remains.
You can’t change anything here.
Leave the door ajar, visit any time.
This room is your past.
It’s brighter in here.
See, hear, touch.
Details fill your senses.
What’s that you ask me?
Of course you can move things,
You are in control here.
Change what you like.
Choose new colours
For your pleasure, your delight.
This is where you live.
Leave both doors open.
This room is your present.
Be careful where you step,
There could be anything here
And I don’t want you to get hurt.
Why are you surprised?
Everything keeps moving
and you haven’t touched a thing.
This is hope, anticipation.
A dream where you decide
What will happen next.
Open the curtains,
Dawn is breaking.
This room is your future.
Well, do you?
I’m waiting.
Yes or No?
Relax, it’s OK if you can’t answer with just a single word. This is a tough question! No wonder that it’s been asked since the time of the ancients. Instead of asking for a simple black-and-white binary answer, let me ask you three more questions. Perhaps they will give you pause for thought.
Do you ask God for things? Maybe you ask for help in difficult times, companionship when you are engulfed by loneliness, healing when you are unwell.
Do you blame God when things go wrong? Think about this one for a moment. Recall a loss, a failure, a catastrophe that recently befell you.
Do you thank God for the good things? For the friends that are there when you need them, for success at college or in your career, for safe passage in a difficult journey?
By the way, I’m talking about your God. Whether you love Torah, Qur’an or Bible, no matter. Whatever your faith, this is your God and it’s the God.
You’ve had a few minutes to ponder my three questions. Need, sorrow, gratitude. These cover just about everything that touches your life. I won’t pry any further. Yes or no, please just remember that life is a difficult journey, one that is best travelled with a companion. I wish you shalom, salaam, peace.
Do you remember his eyes?
Eyes watching, seeing, connecting.
Connecting with your heart, your soul.
A soul in conflict, torn apart.
Apart from you he waits,
Waits patiently as you decide,
Decide what you must do.
Do you remember his eyes?
I was washing the dishes. This time amongst the usual foamy confusion of bubbles there was something small yet special, a beautiful cluster of tiny bubbles arranged near-perfectly. In this moment I saw that it’s the unexpected little things that really matter.
Has your love ever sent you a message just to say that he still loves you, that he cares about you? Perhaps you’ve had a wordless message, his head briefly resting on your shoulder, his hair tickling your face. Such gestures might seem tiny, even insignificant. Don’t dismiss them, see the little things.
I’m feeling down,
What should I do?
I’ll buy something
In pink or blue.
I’ve got more shoes
Than I can wear,
And lingerie
Bought for a dare.
Something for me
When I’m alone…
I know, I’ll get
A nice pink phone!
I had a boyfriend in May.
We walked in spring sunshine
And danced in the garden.
He was loving and kind,
And strong yet so gentle.
Thank you, boyfriend in May.
Sunshine spills out
From my radio
And fills my home
With heat and light.
A stream of joy
From another land,
A distant home
Filled with heat and light.
My love sent me a message,
He’s sick today.
Sitting, wrapped in a blanket,
He waits and hopes.
My love sent me a message,
I feel his pain.
Sitting, wrapped in a cloud,
I wait and hope.
My love sent me a message.
Have you got a purple dog
To cheer you when you’re down?
Big and soft and full of beans,
He’ll wipe away your frown.
He rarely barks and only bites
When taken by surprise.
He’s caring and protecting too
And infinitely wise.
His watchful eyes see everything,
He follows you around.
You really need a purple dog
To cheer you when you’re down.
You think it’s over
But you’re wrong.
Your eyes light up,
You are still strong.
Your brilliant mind
Is still alive.
Don’t waste your years,
Recall that drive.
I see your light
And know you’re strong.
You think it’s over
But you’re wrong.
Do you still want to dine with me
In the café on that secret street?
You know, the one we always loved
And went there secretly to meet.
I’m sure the place must still be there,
Meet me tonight, let’s go and see.
You are the one I’ve always loved,
Do you still want to dine with me?
The clouds parted for a moment.
Sunlight through the window,
Hope swept across my world.
The clouds parted for a moment.
Laughter lit his eyes,
His smile called my heart.
The clouds parted for a moment.
Time has written on your face
Every story, every graze
Time is written in your eyes
All the wrongs and all the rights
Don’t shut me out, I won’t let you down
There’s no need to keep it all inside
Whenever your world suddenly comes down
When all your hopes and dreams are gone
When silence swallows your every thought
When you get lost in the dark, I’ll be your dawn
Time, the most precious commodity. Every day there’s a choice for you to make.
You can have money again but you can never have that time again. Choose wisely.
Shona x
Abbey parked the little white hire car on the boulevard. It was spring, before the crowds of summer families filled Castillo, and there was still plenty of space. Across the road, a row of shops and cafés faced the sea. Abbey crossed and walked a little way along. Café tables, round, simple and encircled with empty chairs, sprinkled the pavement. Abbey entered the first café that she reached.
‘Hay servicios?’ she asked the waiter. Her Spanish was terrible, she had just memorised a few words and phrases really. Still, it was enough to ask crudely for the bathroom. When she came back out into the sunlight she was feeling considerably less hurried. Impulsively, she decided to have coffee. It was a very small café, with maybe half a dozen tables set out under colourful umbrellas that flapped and fussed in the warm breeze. She sat down at one of the empty tables and ordered her drink.
It was late in the afternoon and around her the other tables were empty, except for one man. She hadn’t noticed him when she hurried in. She sat back a little and tried to watch him without being noticed. He lifted a cup to drink, turning slightly towards her. Had he seen her? She could not turn away now, that would be too obvious. Abbey’s eyes drifted down to his hands. In one he held an open book. A trickle of blue smoke rose from a slim cigar in the other.
Abbey was always daydreaming. Her mind left the office and slipped away from the grey English skies. It escaped to hot, sunny places where palm trees grew and there were no folders full of papers to analyse. She used to paint beach scenes when she was younger, fantasy-like sunsets reflected in gentle seas whose waves kissed the golden sand. Relax, you’re in Spain now. Half an hour is nothing. Abbey remembered Lewis’ words. Ah, Lewis. She had thought of little else since she got back to England. Imprinted upon her vision, his face haunted her. Like the fragrance of his drifting cigar smoke he was always there, following her, teasing her. Yet she knew so little about him. Abbey sighed. She had not had the presence of mind even to find out his surname, even less his telephone number or address. He was gone now, a lost dream.
Read on… Join Abbey in Coffee In Castillo today!
Two men stood at the bar. Convivial chatter rose and fell behind them, peppering them with women’s voices that bubbled and shrieked. The door to Cafetería de la Luz was propped open, jammed in position by a hand-sized wedge of wood. The ancient timber chock was bruised and beaten. Every edge and corner of it had been rounded off by the daily battering that was its only reward for a life of lowly service. Chirping cicadas hid amongst the tired remains of summer leaves out on the boulevard, each still calling forlornly for a mate. Their rasping tones, the ever-present sound of the Mediterranean night, stole uninvited into La Luz. Lewis drew on a cigar and the tip of the leaf-brown stick glowed orange. The smoke curled away, escaping to join the noisy insects under the warm blanket of another southern night.
“To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive” – Robert Louis Stevenson.
It’s a oft-quoted mantra and it’s one that helps guide me, another facet of the journey versus destination concept that I explored in Live The Journey.
Journey. What does the word bring to mind? A road trip, an ocean voyage, a long flight? That seems reasonable enough. These are the real-life journeys that you make. You plan the trip, buy tickets, book hotels. You can feel these journeys – smell the burning fuel, hear the engines, rock to the vibrations. The world passes by your window, scenery changes.
What about the other journeys that you make, the ones that exist fleetingly in your head when you daydream? Fantasy journeys, unbounded by borders. Guided by your imagination you travel in hope, seeking and finding. In these amazing journeys you can go wherever you like. You pass through a stargate into another world, a place where you are master. Here the stars shine at your calling. Night or day, rain or sun, it’s your choice.
Your fantasies may seem futile, little more than a forlorn attempt to escape your world and find a better place. They should not be dismissed so lightly. If you cannot envision what you really want then how can you ever hope to reach that place? Don’t be afraid to dream your journey. To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive.
Nothing is perfect, nothing is complete, nothing lasts forever. That’s what I’ve been told. So why do we squander so much of our lives searching for precisely these things? Is it something primeval, seated deep within out human spirit, that drives us on relentlessly? We seek perfection and completeness in our romantic lives, always hoping that we’ll find “the one” and it will last… forever.
A friend called me a couple of days ago. “I’ve been married for a third of my life,” she lamented, “and it’s all been for nothing.” Was it for nothing? There were good times, many of them. There was love and laughter, caring and companionship. It didn’t last forever. Like I said, nothing does. But it was lovely at the time, the years filled with joy and happiness. No, it was not for nothing.
Life is a journey. That’s a very tired cliché and it should have been retired long ago. The trouble is, it’s true! Don’t spend your hours lamenting what has passed. Remember those times for what they really were – spent happily with someone you loved, doing what you both wanted to do right then, in the moment. As we drive on down the road of life, things will change. You will win, then you will lose. Now you must keep going and discover what is waiting for you around the next corner.
Anticipate the destination… but live the journey.
The clouds parted and drew back to the mountains. They revealed the cleanest black sky, washed, cooled, purified by the evening rain. The town of Castillo, a maze of contrast between deep shadow and bright electric light, stood crisply outlined. Everything was wet and fresh, renewed and reborn, ready to face the fair temper of the brief Spanish winter. The eaves dripped and splashed down into puddles. Rivulets trickled into drains, carrying away the dust of summer.
A folded umbrella leaned against an artist’s easel, together forming geometric triangles with feet set securely on the paving stones and tips pointing at the white pinpricks of stars above. Across the plaza, the rectangles of the store windows transformed late shoppers from coloured figures with faces and eyes into the blank forms of dark silhouettes as they passed. A night-time mirage of textured lights and distorted shapes was coarsely mirrored in the wet streets…
You’re looking for someone
Who sees within,
Doesn’t care about your past
Or how thin you wish you were.
Love doesn’t care about those things.
It sees within,
Finds dreams in your eyes
And feels the warmth of your skin.
This is my rose.
Last week it wasn’t there. Last month the bush was bare.
This is my world.
Last week I danced in the rain. Last month was filled with pain.
This is my heart.
I could give it to you. Would you remain true?
The wind was light, just enough to set slack ropes clinking against metal masts. Abbey and Lewis sat on a wall, looking out over the marina and listening to the soft slop of wavelets that played between the boats and ran aground on the stones below their feet. Oblivious fish shoals played along the rocky edges in the warmth of the glassy shallows, hunting for morsels amongst the grey crags. Abbey shaded her eyes to look beyond the marina. The sea sparkled, energised by a sun-whitened sky. Lewis tugged his sunglasses up to scan the white rows of pleasure craft, then dropped them back onto his nose.
‘Which yacht is it?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. She said it’s blue and white.’
‘There’s a blue one over there.’ Lewis pointed into the glare.
‘Where? Oh yes. I didn’t see that one. But it might be this one.’ Abbey pointed into a different part of the blinding light.
‘Why didn’t you ask her? It could be any of them. There are hundreds of blue and white ones.’
‘Don’t exaggerate, Lewis.’
‘Alright, half a dozen then.’
Abbey chortled. ‘It’s hard to see anything from here.’
‘You need some sunglasses. I thought you had a pair.’
‘I did but you sat on them. Remember?’
‘Well, you shouldn’t have left them in the beach bag. How could I know?’
‘So, why did you sit on the bag? Oh, forget it.’ Abbey reached around Lewis and pulled his mouth onto hers, smothering his protests and bringing the bickering to an end…
I wish… If only…
How many times a day do you wish for something? Like so many things in life, there are good days and bad. On a really good day your desires are fulfilled effortlessly. It’s so easy that it’s almost a magical experience. So much for the good days, then. They are just as you’d hope, beautiful. Nothing to see here, nothing to fix. Let’s move on.
I want to talk about the rest of your life. All those bad days when nothing seems to go right, no matter how hard you try. Painful, isn’t it? Those are the days when you simply can’t do it alone, and those are the days when you wish.
I wish… I hadn’t said that.
Of course you do. It happens to all of us. In the heat of the moment or an outburst of anger you said something that you didn’t mean. The heat cools, the anger dissipates but the words have still been said. I’ve pre-ordered a time machine but guess what? It still hasn’t been dispatched! So we can’t go back in time and un-say those words. Call him now. Say you didn’t mean what you said. Tell him how much you love him. Time-travel may not be possible but you can still move forward.
I wish… I had a friend.
Ok, so you do have friends but they aren’t interested in your struggles. Or maybe you don’t want to bother them. After all, they’ve got better things to do, more important issues to worry about. They wouldn’t want to listen to you, right? Um, no. Wrong. They do care and they are interested. Look through your contacts right now. Pick one out. Call her now. Talk.
I wish… I had a lover.
Right now you’re single. This hurts too much, you need to fix the pain and you wish you could do it right now, today. There’s no quick fix for this one, I’m sorry to say. It takes time and effort. But you must not despair. You’ve loved before, once, twice, maybe three times. That’s a hard fact and it proves that you can do it again, too. So take heart and take the first step in your new journey into love now. Call him, message him. Set sail on your quest today. May your voyage be thrilling… and ultimately fulfilling.
Have you seen the wonders
Of night dreams?
Where time slips
And faces change.
He looks for you
And no-one else.
Evening blends to night,
He takes you home.
Lips press on yours,
You can’t resist.
Surrender to his bed,
Roses on the walls.
He reaches out,
You lift your dress.
Strong arms encircle,
You fall spellbound
And feel him fill you,
Move inside.
Have you seen the wonders
Of night dreams?
Remember the good times.
He came to haunt this morning
And I cried for all the pain.
The fall-outs and fights,
Lies and deceits.
He loved me a lot.
I kept all his gifts,
Not just jewellery and clothes
But memories too.
Laughing as one in strange countries,
Cicadas by the window as we slept.
Creating precious children
Whose voices I still hear.
Remember the good times.
“Abbey followed Lewis to the edge of the terrace, to her favourite spot. The sky was deepest indigo blue, a velvet cloth pierced by the youngest evening stars. She felt his arms around her as the first fireworks burst over the town, scattering cascades of glittering flowers. His lips pressed against hers…”
How many times must you fail before you give up?
Of course that’s a silly question without any context. Give up what, exactly? It makes all the difference. If you were searching for a missing ball-point pen, or maybe trying to catch a spider in your living-room, then it might be quite reasonable to give up after a couple of attempts. A lost pen or a harmless spider doesn’t matter very much, does it? When you take a broad view, these things are quite trivial and soon forgotten.
Some things in life really do matter. A lot. Consider all the romantic connections you’ve had in your life. Now we’re are talking about something that is important to most people and I think I’d be safe enough in guessing that you feel the same. Think back. You had teenage flings of course. This was just the starting point, training at the Love Boot Camp and intensively developing your skills. The love you felt in your twenties was something different. Profoundly deep, compelling, overwhelming. So powerful that you married him.
Nearly half of marriages end within 15 years. Ok, so there’s more than one way to measure divorce rates but I don’t wish to get bogged down in such debates. Let’s just agree that divorce is a thing and it happens a lot. For better or for worse, never mind for richer or for poorer, marriage simply isn’t what it used to be.
So what comes after your divorce? Is it time to give up now? That’s the easy option but it’s far from satisfying. Envisage the lonely years that would stretch ahead of you. Instead of throwing in the towel, it’s time to start dating again. Argh, it’s so much more difficult now! Where have all the good men gone?
Despite the challenges, you do go on a few dates. Romances develop, they blossom for a little while but soon wilt. Back to square one, again and again. Failure upon failure. The months go by, hope is displaced by despair. Now you really do feel like giving up.
A friend called me last night and I told her everything. I told her about the lost love, the hope and the despair. I told her that I just didn’t have the energy to keep on trying. I was fed up, jaded. Enough was enough. “Don’t give up,” she said softly. Good advice from a wise friend.
Unlike a cheap ball-point pen, you can’t nip out and buy another lover. And without that lover, you’ll just have to have another go at catching the spider yourself. No-one said it would be easy. Just don’t give up.
I stumbled upon something recently. I have to admit that I had never heard of it before. Curiosity piqued, I found myself reading a forum called The Red Pill. Wow, what an eye-opener! It turns out that there’s a well-established men’s movement whose primary objectives appear twofold.
Objective number one: men are to treat females as an homogeneous commodity with which a formulaic game must be played in order to ensnare them and use their bodies.
Objective number two: men must analyse, delegitimise, devalue, disparage and discredit females. This applies to how they look, everything they say and all that they do.
Of course there is much more to it than this and I have simplified things, reducing them to the basic tenets. As far as I can see, it’s a reasonable summary all the same.
So, what is the red pill? The concept originates in the sci-fi movie The Matrix, in which a choice between red and blue pills is offered. Taking the blue pill means you stay as you are, oblivious to reality. The red pill wakes you up so that you can finally see the truth in everything around you.
You might think that a man who claims to have taken the red pill would surely be a better person for it. Nope. Red-pilled men are expected to be cold, calculating, heartless game-players with a bitterness bordering upon hatred for females, incongruously coupled with automatic entitlement to unlimited no-strings sex. There’s more: it seems that taking the red pill qualifies these men as desirable “alpha males”. Naturally this leads to disdain for all other men, the blue pill “beta” ones left behind.
The red pill has no room for compassion, it places no value in companionship. Love? Forget it!
Are all women really the same? Must men play a deceitful game in order to satisfy their needs? Does every woman prefer an alpha male? No, no and no again.
Is it when you make a bad decision? “I was crazy doing that. I should have known better.”
Is it a mental health issue, maybe psychosis or schizophrenia or something like that? “Don’t listen to her, she’s crazy. Out of her mind.”
Is it the world around you? “It’s a crazy world.”
Is it something to do with personality? “She’s crazy. Sure she’s fun, but you never know what she’ll say next.”
Is it just the natural, healthy variation between people? “Some of the guys here are just crazy.”
What is “crazy”? Can you really tell the difference between the various suggestions I have made? I think they flow into each other, they are a continuum, a spectrum of experience.
The hours come first.
Pretending I will heal
Today or tomorrow.
Wounding loneliness.
Days add up.
Seven make a week.
A week alone.
Bitter loneliness.
Weeks pile upon weeks.
Four weeks more
Is another month.
Crushing loneliness.
Months are fragments.
The jigsaw of time
That forms my years.
Burning loneliness.
Shona x
Coffee In Castillo 
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