This White Room

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  This White Room

  
  

  
  
  This white-walled room
  Streaked with lavender
  From the glass heart
  Hanging in the window
  In the sun...........
  
  The heart you gave me
  With a smile in your eyes
  The heart that was shattered
  By cruel unthinking hands
  And was mended, restrung, on it's white silken cord.
  
  My bare feet rest
  On moon pale carpets
  Strewn here and there
  On hardwood floors
  Clean and cold as a hard winter snow.
  
  Silky white curtains
  Flutter in day breeze,
  Tease the book's pages
  As it lies on the shelf
  Reading to it's self of my long ago dreams.
  
  And here sit I
  In my satin and lace
  White sofa covered with pillow and fur
  Waiting, as I often do
  For my life to go on......
  
  Long, silver mirrors
  Catch the odd glow of sun,
  Of fragmented purple, of my long raven hair
  And reflect back the silence
  That the world cannot hear.
  
  In the garden, a cat
  And the song of a lark
  Sharp smell of roses
  And the whisper of trees
  But I do not turn, I sit stiller than stone.
  
  Waiting for footsteps to fall on the stair,
  A door opening softly and the embrace of your eyes
  Waiting for the smile that once out shined the sun
  Waiting for forgiveness in a world that's gone dark.
  
  Maybe today I think, he'll come
  He'll stand behind me, brushing my hair
  Watching me watching him as I did in the mirror
  Before I crushed his heart like the lavender glass
  Now mended, restrung, on the cord in the sun.
  
  Maybe today in this white room
  The wind will blow my hair like ribbons,
  The book will close and my heart find peace
  Maybe today, on moon pale carpets
  My sad, sad feet will stand up and dance.
  
  A sound in the garden, not of cat or of bird
  On the wind there's a sweetness
  And a tasting of hope
  Gently, the lavender heart starts to sway
  And I watch it transfixed and I turn towards the door....
  
  
  

  

  
  
  

  
  

  

  
  
  

  ©by Voo

  Feb 24, 2010   

  9:36 p.m.
  
  

If Blues Is A Woman

 

If Blues Is A Woman

Honey, if blues, it is a woman

Well, then, heartache is a man

Can't nobody down here tell me

The devil don't have busy hands.

You see, the boys, they love to preach it

How they love us little girls

Then they love us and they leave us

Where they found us in this world.

Then they sit in bars till daylight

Talkin' how they was done wrong

Chasin' women, chasin' whiskey

Till ever drop o' love is gone.

Now, I've broke a heart or three

Had my share of dirty deals

Didn't love the one that loved me

So I know just how that feels.

But I never meant no evil

Never tried to do no bad

Made acquaintance with tha' lonely

Slept in rooms just full of sad.

Men say blues, it is a woman

Makes 'em hurt long as it can

But I say if blues, it is a woman

Surely, heartache is a man.

        I'll Take Care of You by Van Morrison

    

©By Voo

May 11, 09

12:43 a.m.

The Blue Vineyard Of Voo Shining Stone: The Evanescence of Love In The Year 2022

The Blue Vineyard Of Voo Shining Stone: The Evanescence of Love In The Year 2022:   The Evanescence of Love  In The Year 2022 Ethereal, though it was In every way Every day, it became More and more eternal in it's scop...

You Write As If

 

You Write As If

You write as if you're bleeding

Bleeding on the inside where hurt hides

Though the hiding further amplifies it's voice

There in your eyes, those wounded eyes

That used to see me as the sun

On a dark and cloudy day.

The days when you wrote poetry

Like a fountain flowing love

You poured out every thought and dream,

Desires so raw and pure they felt like sacred

And handed them to me to bring to pass.

You didn't have to touch me but I felt touched

You didn't have to bless me, still I felt blessed

As in your arms a dance could last an eon

And your sweet kiss could make me levitate.

Where went those days, my love, when we could fly

On wings of bliss like honey-making bees?

The nectar of our mouths intoxicating

When nights flew by without the need for sleep?

Look at you sitting there now, lost in memory

The paper stained with ink beneath your hand

You write as though you're bleeding

As the words pour from your soul

And it's then I see, unseen, over your shoulder

That every drop of blood spells out my name.

©By Voo Shining Stone

Nov 14, 2023

7 p.m.

First new write in a long, long time🌻🌺🥀

AaCHOO VOO, PRIVATE EYE BLOG still in progress

 https://aachoovooprivateeye1940sserialstory.blogspot.com/