Monday, October 31, 2011

A Little Way ...

A little way past the gate
Beyond the garden wall
A lovely place to escape
I hope to see it all
Past the hedge
The stone ledge
Where daisies seek the sun
And lavenders grow against the wall
Such a fragrant garden edge
There beside the path I find
Red roses still in bloom
Lasting past their Summer blush
As Winter will come soon
Basking in the Autumn sun
They release their sweet perfume
Sweet petals, so soft to touch
Such a lovely afternoon
Other flowers begin their rest
And await their Winter sleep
But the roses remain in full blush
Such a lovely memory to keep ...

Poem by Dianne Dee ... ♥
Image Source via Vanda on Pinterest

Pour Alexandre

Sunday, October 16, 2011

A Time for Everything

Once I thought that for us
There would be a time for everything
Words we shared, I treasured yours
Moments together in time
Days spent together in sunshine
Nights beneath moonlit skies
Perhaps one day, a time for love
So much still to share
But sadly time does not stand still
It races away so quickly
And takes with it my dreams
I can hardly catch my breath
As I try to catch the hours and hold them
Trying to stop them from slipping away
And what we have shared
But I cannot capture the moments
And hold on to them, or you
For you are slipping away
And taking with you my light
I am losing you and cannot stop time
I will never hear your words again
All I have left are memories
I wanted more time for us
But all hope is lost
As I fade away in this loneliness
Alone in this prison of darkness
Now there is no time for anything
And such an empty sadness fills my heart...

Prose: Dianne Dee ... ♥
Image: Alone in the Dark-Free Wallpaper

Sunday, October 9, 2011


Slowly the west reaches for clothes of new colours
which it passes to a row of ancient trees.
You look, and soon these two worlds both leave you,
one part climbs toward heaven, one sinks to earth,

leaving you, not really belonging to either,
not so helplessly dark as that house that is silent,
not so unswervingly given to the eternal as that thing
that turns to a star each night and climbs –

leaving you (it is impossible to untangle the threads)
your own life, timid and standing high and growing,
so that, sometimes blocked in, sometimes reaching out,
one moment your life is a stone in you, and the next, a star.

Poem: Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926)