No Magic

I remember; because I'm old enough to, as a teenager sitting at my desk listening to my tape of Barry Manilow. Yes, you read me correctly I liked/still like Barry Manilow. There, I said it! lol Everything I had ever learned of love in my short 14 years was due to the song styling of Mr. Manilow. The sweet, sappy melodies wafting through my combination record/AM-FM stereo/ tape player taught me that absence does make the heart grow fonder, love can be found and remembered on a New England beach, and lost in a Cuban nightclub.

Romantic love was possible for all who believed. Heartfelt, hopeless, romantic; that was me. That is until I grew up. Reality reared it's ugly head and here I am. Sure I relapsed a couple of times, once recently but I got over it. lol

Someone I highly respect once called me Byronic. As soon as I looked the word up in the dictionary, I was well pleased. I do believe it's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. I'm still pleased.


Crappy poetry comin' at ya.

Living

Because I have hurt, I feel more completely.
Because I have lost the victory is savored
sweetly.
Because I have been bound, I recognize
freedom.
Because I have loved I know what it's like to be
loved.
I learned to listen because I first heard nothing.
I learned to wait in stillness for that something.
I struggled with myself, the one that I am.
I sailed on an ocean to stand on dry land.
Because of circumstance that came my way;
every time I wanted to go, but decided to stay
I found a home within myself and a heart within
that home.

Mostly, nearly done, but not all the way gone.


Peace to my cyber friends, and happy halloween,


Moni