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.
Long Legs
Tag: Lifestyle
Don’t Put Me On A Pedestal
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.
In A Million Years
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?
First Date
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
The Child Inside
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.
For the friend I have yet to meet.
Maybe Tomorrow
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.
She Dreams
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.
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Love’s Burden
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.
The Day Before You Came
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.
Inspired by The Day Before You Came © 1982 ABBA
You Don’t Get Lonely, Do You?
“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.
Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.
Sun And Blue
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.
Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.
Single Beds
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.
Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.
On Our Honeymoon
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.
Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.
Secret Tracks
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.
Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.
The Island Of Dreams
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.
Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.
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The Sweet Fruits Of Love
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.
Two Days To Go!
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Faded Love
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.
Three Days To Go!
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Twenty Two Years
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.
Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.
Riding With Him
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.
Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.
Love Died
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.
Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.
Bring Me Flowers
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.
Waiting For You
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
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
The Last “I Love You”
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.
Words from my muse.
I Look For 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”.
I Was Ready
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.
Looking for inspiration? That’s what your muse is for!
What Will I Write?
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?
For my muse.
Tonight He Broke My Heart
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.
Words from the heart of my muse.
Broken Love
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.
For my muse, for whom my heart cries.
Enwrapped In Love
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
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.
Two Years Of Love
ONE
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.
TWO
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
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
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
Find Peace
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.
Salaam – Shalom – Peace
Mehndi Image © 2018 Shona Silverman
Arthur Is My Cat
A poem for kids and grown-ups too.
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.
Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.
A New Chapter
Inspired by a scene from Coffee In Castillo
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
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.
Connected
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
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
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.
Rambling, twisted and tortuous thoughts,
painful to think, tough to read.
Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.
You’ll Come To Me
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.
He Waits For 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.
A companion piece to Waiting For Him.
Waiting For Him
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.
A companion piece to He Waits For Me.
Time To Reflect
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.
The Tale Of The Odd-Legged Goat
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.
Your Perfect Lover
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
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.
In The Morning
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.
Times We Laughed
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.
Fun poetry inspired by a real life event!
Affection Rejection
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.
For Another
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.
To Help Someone
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.
Hiding Place
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
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.
Guest post by CB, a very special person.
A Hint Of Summer
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!
Just a bit of fun on a surprisingly hot day in England!
He visits me in summer
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.
He stood on a chair
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.
Fuerteventura Wind
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.
Image: Abandoned Construction Project, Fuerteventura.
Copyright © Shona Silverman 2014.
This Is You
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.
Rain Of The Heart
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
I hope you enjoy the many subtle connections made here.
Even I had to read through it several times to see them all – and I wrote it!
Shona.
His Heart Is Her Haven
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.
Valium And Vodka
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.
Let Me Show You Something
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.
Do You Remember His Eyes?
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?
See The Little Things
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.
Retail Therapy
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!
In May
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.
From My Radio
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
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?
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.
Just a bit of fun for this post – hope you enjoy it! Shona x
You Think It’s Over
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.
With gratitude to my muse, whose love and light sustain me.
For A Moment
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
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
“Your Dawn” Lyrics © Solis & Sean Truby w. Ultimate & Stine Grove
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
Daydreaming
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!
A Mediterranean Night
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.
Coffee In Castillo is out now!
Stars Of Lovingness
“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.
“Stars Of Lovingness” lyric quoted from White Queen (As It Began), Brian May 1974
Live The Journey
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.
Photo: Road between Plumtree and Clipston, England. Copyright © S Silverman 2018.
The Artist In The Street
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…
Coffee In Castillo is out now!
Your Love Story
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
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?
On Our Anniversary
We change,
Things change,
Circumstances change.
But I still cherish the beautiful feelings
and experiences that we had together.
We are different now from who we were in the past,
Those eight years shaped us to who we are today.
So here I am wishing you a happy anniversary
and thanking you for what we shared.
Guest post by Gali’s Little Kitchen
I Wish…
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.
Shona x
Night Dreams
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?
Dream it, live it, love it. Tonight.
Shona x
Remember The Good Times
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.
Should he take the red pill?
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.
By The River
In the place by the river
We talked for hours.
The others left
So we were alone.
His green eyes caught mine,
Easily I trusted them.
My story spilled out
Along with the tears.
Lost dreams from the past,
Despair for the future.
He took my hand
As I fumbled apologies.
Don’t say you’re sorry,
His green eyes smiled.
We talked for hours
In the place by the river.
First Dates
Hey, are you ready yet?
He’ll soon be at the restaurant, anticipating, waiting just for you and no-one else. Of course you’ve been on dates before, lots of them. But those dates didn’t matter so much. At the back of your mind you knew that they were just practice runs, going through the motions. But this one is different, you can feel it. This one is special.
You’re choosing which dress to wear. This is tricky. Sexy or modest? How much should you show, how much should you leave to his imagination? Yes, that one is perfect. A hint of your charms, just the right amount of leg to tease him with.
First impressions do matter, despite what they say. Hair, make-up, perfume. Done. You’re in control now. Should you wear your glasses? Well, you won’t be able to see him if you don’t! Glasses it has to be, then.
Hurry up, the table is booked for 7.30! In a couple of minutes you’ll be on your way there. Head up, shoulders back, it’s time to go. Is your heart pounding yet?
Your Special Moment
The most romantic moment of your life. What comes to mind right away?
Perhaps it was your wedding day, a truly momentous occasion. Was it your honeymoon, a sun-kissed holiday in a tropical paradise? Could it be your engagement, the precious seconds shared by no-one else as he slipped a glittering diamond ring onto your finger?
Do you recall the first time he kissed you, lingering tenderly?
Perhaps he wrote to you – a real letter, lovingly inscribed in the old-fashioned way. Or maybe it’s something as fleeting as a secret smile shared across a crowded room.
Inspire me – tell me about your special moment. I’d love to hear from you so please post a comment.
Shona x
The Bizarre Theatre Of Your Dreams
Dreams, the playground of grotesque fantasy. Distorted reflections of your life mirrored in a troubled, stormy ocean. A theatre filled with players that shift, meld and fade. Mingled voices speaking in tongues. You can’t hear their words but still you feel their minds.
Dreams, packed with imperative, reminders of all the things that you have yet to do. Journeys you must make, relationships to heal, broken things that need mending, voids in your life still unfilled.
In dreams, loved ones come to talk to you. A parent that lives on only in your heart comes to comfort you, a lover from the distant past touches your face, friends you can barely identify arrive to heighten the chaos. Sometimes disturbing, occasionally consoling, the ensemble changes as the drama plays out. Time is fluid. Minutes, hours, even years mean nothing.
The backdrop of this theatre is bizarre. Distortions of places that you barely remember or have never even been. Perhaps the house you lived in when you were just a child, a street in a city you have never known, your church or synagogue populated by characters you are sure would never be seen there.
Dreams, half-crazy, surreal, disturbing. Do they seem pointless, no more than absurd distractions sent to cause fleeting distress? Are they no more than discarded snippets of indie cinema, ill-conceived and worthless mind-art produced by some misguided director? Or are they trailers for a compelling movie that you must not miss?
When you wake tomorrow, don’t try to shake off the shreds of your dreams. Hold on to those movie snippets for a moment. Make it your quest to remember your loved ones, to heal relationships and re-connect with friends.
You have the power to take control of your waking hours and you can start right now. Fill the voids in your life, one by one. Seek a little more contentment each day, make your waking world a better place to be. Sail away from the troubled ocean, see your life reflected in calmer waters.
She Sits Alone
She sits alone all day
And looks out of the window.
A window dusted with snow,
quietly waiting for spring.
Spring warms the garden,
yellow daffodils blink in surprise.
Surprised by the heat of summer,
she opens the window and cries.
She cries and her tears fall
with the autumn leaves.
She sits alone all day
And looks out of the window.
Copyright © Shona Silverman 2018
Romance or Erotica?
Demure or indecent?
Coffee In Castillo is certainly no Fifty Shades Of Grey. Oh no, not at all! There’s a great story-line for one thing. Every character here is compelling, three-dimensional, the kind of person that you quickly find yourself really caring about. It’s less about playing it safe than simply blending the ingredients in perfect proportions. Suspense, intrigue, desire and passion all have their part to play.
This is contemporary romance. The nimbly-paced scenes play out in the modern world with up-to-the-minute values. Abbey is no prude. She knows what she wants and she expects Lewis to deliver, so things may get a little steamy from time to time. That’s only to be expected… and enjoyed!
Green and Blue
A dream, green and blue,
of waves kissing the shore.
Warm breeze-tousled hair,
fingertips touching my face.
I loved him and he loved me,
his jade eyes searching, knowing.
I was happy for a little while
in my dream of green and blue.
Love: The Secret Ingredients
You have to make the best of what you’ve got.
I’ve just been making chicken stew and that sounds weird. Why would I make that? Because I had chicken, of course! I also had lots of vegetables, some garlic and a pinch of inspiration. So I’m looking forward to a delicious meal tonight and it will be all the more delightful because I know that I’ve used what I had to hand and wasted nothing. It was easy and quick, too.
We can waste even more of our time, energy and indeed money on people and relationships than we do on food. Just think of all those hours you’ve spent online or maybe in bars or some place like that, searching for the perfect mate. With just a touch of chutzpah I’m going to guess that you’ve invested a lot of resources in those efforts.
Did you find that hot and tasty special someone? I hope you did, but if not then may I suggest something? Take a few moments to reflect on all the people you already know, the ones you see at the office or maybe at your church or synagogue. How well do you really know them? Have you given them a chance to come into your life?
Perhaps it’s time to give Tinder a break and take another a look at the special ingredients that you already have.
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