Just a Girl Lost 2

Just a girl lost~ Here I share bits & pieces of me, in poetry, prose, music & posts from writers who inspire me.


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A Mother Is

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A mother is

Band-aids & boo boo kisses

Lullabies~eyelash wishes

Homemade brownies after school

Patience~Love~the Golden Rule

A mother is heart and soul

imperfectly perfect

thru and thru

~

Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers

and to all fathers who fill the role

of both mother and father.

You are LoVe! ❤

~

©justagirllost2 ~ Monique


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The Moment I Saw You

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~
The moment I saw you
Time stood still
I was lost~ entranced
as three Fates wove us into dance
the Earth un-spun forgot her place
but, for the gods, her saving grace
The smitten Wind, tame as a lamb
laughed at the Sun sudden shy
blushing in clouds behind the sky

Under your spell Life hypnotized
and then
you looked into my eyes
You touched my soul
I held your light
a universe returned to right
Blue carousel spinning again
Chariot of gods, ghost horses ran
all frenzied haste to beat the sand

My thundering heart
the only sound
whirlwind of thoughts
spinning me round
invading skin ~ heaven and sin
tasting life ~ drowning within
a newborn joy ~ beyond the breach
love’s miracle ~ within my reach

A brave new world
finally found
Lost in a place
I’d never known
A place deeper
than skin and bone
A place my Soul
knew all along
the place was You
the place was Home
~

©justagirllost2

*endlessly, an Ink on Paper by LOUI JOVER


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My Feelings Never Wane

I’d fight with fire just to get close to you…

~

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~

My feelings

those dark, delirious

delicious feelings

My wants relentless

My needs

of desire ~ love ~ lust

never wane

they pulse pizzicato,

firm, strong

stronger

flowing thru me,

Vibrating my being

sighing touching tasting streaming

My thoughts never stop

touching

searching for yours

My lips never stop

aching

throbbing for a taste,

A bite

a lingering lick

of your skin

My body never stops

humming, quivering

burning to feel your lips

And though life is often insane

in its chaos

it never drives me to distraction

Only you commit that crime

Though I get lost, overwhelmed

and cannot find the strength to fight

Knowing you breathe and exist

Knowing you live in my world

Knowing who you are is my forever breath of life

You are my muse

My poetry

my inspiration

My desire

My delight

~

 ©justagirllost2

~

~

image

*top image by serge marshennikov

* bottom photo mine

… and my feelings never wane 🍃


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He Has a Certain Something

Another favorite poem that I tweaked a bit here & there. Three years old, but always relevant when it comes from the heart.

Niki ❤️

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He has a certain something

I don’t know what it is

His certain vibe passes through

the barriers of distance and time

A certain joy shines out onto the world from his within

~

It’s psychedelic, surreal

the way he makes me feel

A je ne sais quoi he owns

A charm that feels like home

~

He’s the perfect crime

A decadent, daring

combination of soul,

sinew and skin

Seduction with a grin

He has me begging to

strip my clothes

and inhibitions away

with a righteous ache to sin

~

He is the only one I turn to

when I want to come undone

 

My desire for him has no end

Of a kind, he is the one

~

 

©justagirllost2

* image~ Lazy Hazy Days, by Jack Vettriano


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The Blue Dream

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I promised I would write my dreams,

since I’m not inspired right now to write anything

about Love or Life or Living.

I have been dreaming lately and that is a rarity.

I mean that i am ‘remembering’ my dreams.

I know that we all dream, blah, blah, blah.

I just lately have had some memorable dreams

as in BRIGH COLORS

and STRANGE SITUATIONS.

In this dream, I’ll call it ‘The Blue Dream’, I am in a HUGE, MASSIVE, meandering house.

This huge house is apparently being ‘given’ to me and my children.

(my children’s ages vary and morph as the dream progresses)

In the process of moving in, the former tenants have left a LOT OF STUFF, weird stuff and the former tenants (picture The Brady Bunch times 10) the Brady Bunch are ‘helping’ me clean-up.

As they help me clean up they are also finding things they had forgotten and are happily taking them home.

This house is HUGE and one room has a red puppet theater and a white baby bed and lots of baby toys just lying around.

It’s night and the room is bluish in hue with lights dancing off the walls.

There are people pulling wallpaper off, sawing, hammering, nailing, taking paneling off, putting things in bags.

We move on into the kitchen.  The kitchen is a jumble of carpentry, hardware, sawdust, no table or anything, just a weird metallic, greenish, harsh, undone, uninviting mess.

There’s white stuff everywhere.

Like, that white stuff on walls and ceilings, crumbly and powdery white.

There’s drawers lying on the floor filled with CRAP.

You know, that junk drawer you just throw little pieces of crap into.  There are drawers scattered and tossed and filled with utensils and forks, knives, spoons, corn-cob holders, different colored rubber bands, tacks, tacks, tacks, little nails and all the little things you need to stick things to the wall.  BORING.

I march/slither/slide upstairs, downstairs, all around, seeing rooms with bunk beds, seeing into bathrooms with clothes hanging everywhere and toothbrushes, toothpaste, pictures, children’s paintings, all sorts of things just everywhere.  Stuff left behind, not worthy of keeping, but the Brady’s were realizing that there was some pretty cool stuff they’d left behind and so as I’m seeing into these rooms, I’m seeing the Brady’s picking up, sorting thru, laughing about, holding onto all this stuff they had forgotten about.  They’re finding treasure as I’m tearing down to move in and it’s a chaotic mess.  NOISE and MESS and NOISE and ripping and tearing and running thru the house.

I turn and step into an elevator.  It’s a brown elevator.  Wood with scratches in it.  I step in hesitantly, I know I’m going down, I know I have to get in, but also I decide in this dream that I am NOT going to be stuck in this elevator.  (I am SO CLAUSTROPHOBIC. As a child I wasn’t in the least, but as an adult, I am)

Suddenly, I come to a STOP.  I’m at a dead end.  No where to go forward. I step out of the elevator and am a bit relived because my lucid dreaming worked!

A cul-de-sac in the hallway.  I’m standing in a hallway.  I look to my right and I see sitting on a wooden crate a blond girl, about 5 or 6, wearing yellow shorts and top.  She has pigtails and is just sitting quietly, solemnly on the crate in the cul-de-sac staring at me. Not moving, just staring at me.

I need the bathroom.

I turn suddenly and look straight ahead.  I’m looking in a mirror.  I’m in a bathroom.

I’m standing in a narrow, white enamel on the wall, white sink, light bulb hanging down with a pull string, bathroom.

I look in the mirror and I’m COMPLETELY BLUE.  I’m covered in blue.  Painted blue.  A cobalt blue.  My hair is a mess, all frizzy and sticking out and BLUE.  My skin is blue.  My gown is blue.  My feet are blue!  I look at the girl and feel confusion, I know I have to keep going.  I look down the hallway.

I hear people laughing and I know there is a party going on.

I turn and find some stairs.

I go down these dingy, dark stairs.  The whole house is falling apart/being redone.  It’s got a 70’s vibe. The party room.  Paneling, blue and green furniture, not too well lit.  It’s dim, like a dying sun yellow.

It’s a party and everyone is happy and laughing and talking, but the colors and smell and feeling all say dank, dark, slime, oppressive.

I step into the room and see everyone dressed in groovy polyester pantsuits and dresses, chunky shoes and puffy hair.  I see our neighbor from across the street.  Miss Bea.

She and her husband, Mr. Andy, were my second parents.  They had 4 kids, the youngest girl was a year younger than me and my best friend, my sister almost.  We spent everyday together. Our mom’s would drink coffee and talk and we would play.  We practically lived together. 

Miss Bea.

She looks beautiful.

She’s smiling and laughing, wearing a lovely dress and she’s young.

I’m surprised to see her there because she’s dead.

She tells me that she’s with her daughter.

Her first pregnancy was a miscarriage, they named her Susan, and I’d always felt a sadness from her when she thought about Susan.  I loved Miss Bea.  She was very quiet, tiny.  Didn’t drive a car.  Her husband drove her everywhere. 

Miss Bea, my sweet, mysterious, very kind, never raised her voice, LOVED romance novels, smoked like a chimney, my mom’s best friend, my second mom was telling me she was happy and with her daughter. 

I was uncomfortable the whole time, of course, I’m in disarray.  My hair is a mess and I’m covered in blue! I turned to look around …

I woke up.

That’s it.

That’s my Blue Dream.

 

*image, Death and the Mirror, James Christensen

@justagirllost2