Mood:  chillin'

Harley

Harley sat by the lakes edge, glaring into the rippling waves, staring the stare of the dead of mind and humming the tune of uncaring.

Multi colored leaves blew in all directions, floating, just floating, and riding the small waves of indecisiveness.  Harley glared as the sun went down and the shimmer of blue turned to grayish black.

A cold breeze sent dampness through her body and by and by she got up and left the lakes edge.

Walking without thinking, she promenaded through town and found the entrance to her apartment door.  Turning the key in the lock, she looked at the golden shiny name plate underneath the door knocker.  Harley saw the face of the guardian of death beckoning her forth.  In she went, not afraid of the threat of her demise.  If she would die this very night she would be free of mindless action, free to face the new realm at hand, the unknowing realm mystifyingly at her reach.

As Harley entered the moonlit room, she reached for the light, she felt a hand upon her shoulder, and yet another hand lay gently upon the hand that reached slowly for the light switch. She lit the light of unconcern and looked dead into the eyes of her new captor.  Her captor was fair and lingered there; she gave to her a smile of wisdom and beauty beyond compare.

Their eyes were locked in a beautiful stare while the breath of hope was breathed into her lungs. Her captor was an angel of God, not the devil of whom she would try to spite for all that was wrong and nothing that was right. Very shortly after, Harley was found by a friend, lying on her chaise with a smile all aglow and a delicate rose in her hand.  Harley's spirit hovered in the air for it had not yet left the atmosphere.

Her friend gave a sigh and as she tried to close Harley's eyes, her hand went numb.  She pulled her hand back, only to vision Harley rising. 

Harley stood by her friend as she called her by name, telling of her rejuvenation.  Her revision was swift, like a torrent she'd lift, from her chaise to the halls of salvation.

By: JvS aka Gilda Schaal © 2000 All Rights Reserved

Mood:  bright

A Children’s Poem

Did you ever see a scallop fly?

They fly so high and give a sigh!

A scallop feels as much as you,

It has a heart and sneezes too!   

Small and soft but firm, a scallop

has it all over a worm!

I went to the sea and sat on the sand,

a scallop flew up and grabbed my hand.

It said "oh my but you are sweet".

I said, "oh scallop, where are your feet?”

So now you know and my poem is done.

A scallop can fly, but it can not run!

By: JvS

Mood:  sharp

  She sang for her supper, alone in her life, a pretty lady with no one to love. Her time in the piano bar filled the air for the lonely people who gathered there. Her song was her gift, her expression was passionate, her children were her listeners, her lover was her prayer.

  She walked in the door of her apartment that night; the burglar was startled and pulled out a knife.  He came from behind, she never knew, as  crimson colors drizzled from the blood he drew.

She lay on the floor; so very still, this lifeless body whose name was LiL.

  A soprano has died in Manhattan tonight, baring her voice to a heavenly light.  She will sing with the angels and dance on the wind, with a host full of children who will carry her in.

Mood:  special

  September 11, 2001, a day when the world cried for the loss of innocent souls and the horror that befell a peaceful nation. Over and Over again the television flashed the fated demise of the twin towers in NYC. Who would ever imagine that such hideous acts of inhumanity would crumble the icons of world trade as we knew it. Not only a horrid and senseless loss of lives were felt by families and friends as well as every caring human on the civilized earth, but the loss of trade information and whole city blocks were taken away within hours. In a wake of disaster, thousands of people were lost in the rubble of destruction by the hands of the sultans of Satan. Unholy demons in human form, insidious terrorists with no regard for the children of the earth, took from the United States, a sense of safety.

Osama Bin laden and his cohorts in terror planned a lethal attack on our nation with callus aforethought and delighted in the vision of our misery.

This terrible tragedy will never be forgotten, and should a day come that one soul forgets this heinous crime against men, women and children, that will be the day when all have perished.

Lest we not forget that not only the trade centers were attacked but people were navigated to their deaths in planes piloted by evil men who crept into the cockpits of our jet liners with ease.

Early that morning, America stood still as they watched the attack on the Pentagon. We listened intently to the news media on September 11th, 2001, report the events of what was happening on the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania, carrying valuable cargo (human beings) who knew they were going to die, and did so willingly to save our nations white house and the people who would have been doomed to certain death when their plane would strike the building where our presidents base of operations lie.

  NYC and the surrounding boroughs were closed down to ingress and egress as our armed forces and National Guard took over to intervene on any additional attacks that might occur.

Our harbors were filled with navy ships ready to defend our city. Bridges were closed and searches for the scoundrels who made off like thieves in the night were started by every law enforcement body in the nation.

Our waterways and reservoirs were protected as the air traffic and major cities and towns leading to them were manned by government agencies and volunteers, in an attempt to protect our citizens from further harm by terrorist action via germ warfare.

  Out of the rubble and dust, through screams and tears, we as common people, united together in love for each other and for our country, to stand in unity and show our dignity among friends and nations. We the people of the United States have joined hands in prayer and to fight wickedness.

  We are one nation, under God, indivisible, for Liberty and Justice for All. This site is dedicated to unity and friendship. We want to give back to you, that which may have been lost. We want to heal old wounds and open new friendships. Our hope is for old friends who have parted way's to come together with a better understanding of each other, and for new friends to discover a closeness to those who they meet here. Our dream quest is simple, it simply means joining hands, caring for one another, and creating a common bond through willingness, curteousy and the dignity that lies deep within our soul. We are people of great substance, our ideologies are basic and easy to display. If we have anything to show for the lives we have led, let us show decency and respect to the world by coming together in forgiveness and love. Let us never ever forget who we are and may we walk in the sun and remember, September 11, 2001.

By: Gilda Troiano Schaal , JvS © 2001 All Rights Reserved

Mood:  happy

In centuries that passed us by so many people lived to die. Their souls flew on a rainbow high and hover still above the sky.

The souls of long ago are watching us below.

Loving us for who we are and not for what we sow.

Little neon ghosts are flitting passed the stars.

We are passing buildings in our little neon cars.

Milky ways and moonbeams are shining in the heavens. We are counting days gone by in six and eight and sevens.

Angels hang around to watch us leap and bound.

You'll never hear an angel cry; you only hear their heavenly sound.

Amidst the muck and mire our lives hang on a wire.

We'd rather be on rainbows than in the devils fire.

In centuries passed so many years ago,

soldiers were sent forth to plod the clean white snow.

They march to conquer for an emperor's greedy wrath. Souls were left for dead in a raging bloody path.

Where there were no people, the land was left to grow. Filtering the sunshine so winds could cleanly blow.

Hallowed be the woman who leaves her babe alone.

Upon her babies casket she will throw her limb and bone.

Give to me your love and call me to your womb.

Never let me hear the sigh of repentance or of doom.

I'll give to you your namesake on this very day.

If only you'll be happy and come with me to play.

By: Gilda V Schaal aka JvS © 2007 All Rights Reserved

Mood:  happy

O solo mio was a loner it seems,
all by herself, just her & her dreams.

She was found in a basket & covered with moss,
her tiny hands were cold and her momma was lost.

Wanting her baby she died all alone,
her spirit stayed wandering, sad to the bone.

O solo mio grew healthy and strong,

living on discards, all her life long.

In the city she wandered a wayfaring waif,
inside herself she felt happy and safe.

She worked when she could, and not for much pay, 
O solo mio would eat on that day.

Some days her belly would rumble and roar,
hunger was something she felt many times before.

This sweet little woman child never complained,
one day a man got her drunk on champagne.

He took her in an alley, she went willingly,
she was innocent and pure with a heart full of glee.

He beat her and raped her and left her for dead, 
O solo mio just lay there and bled.

As the life left her body, a spirit came near,
holding her baby she shed an invisible tear.

They rose in the heavens, together at last,
smiling and happy with no thoughts of the past.

They entered a realm of beauty and light,
O solo mio was glowing so bright.

She was sent back to earth as an angel for those,

who were battered & torn and quietly forlorn.

She was the angel of mercy with arms held out wide,

she sat on their shoulders to give them their pride.

O solo mio was not lonely you see,

her new name was planted in life’s human seed.

Her grace is your glory, her wings are so warm,
her momma is with her in angelic form.

By: JvS ©

Jill Schaal All Rights Reserved

Mood:  chillin'

My beautiful flower who waits for me, the woman whose love is not tame.

In  prayer I'll delightfully be one heart beating so breathlessly, who never bares sorrow or shame.

A desire grows in our flesh only to savor and mesh, waiting excites me it makes me grow restless, now come to me dear with all of your freshness.

Give me the flower that buds there so willing; I’ll give you a love that is warm and fulfilling

.

Together in waking as we are when we sleep, a new love is binding two souls oh so deep.

Mood:  hug me

August 14, 2002 at 11:42:11 PM by Jill

 

There were once two loves who shared a time when food was good and wine was better. But one loved more and one loved less and the one who loved less gave the one who loved more a Dear John letter.

So the one who loved more, tried to get well and she took a pill and swallowed it whole, then crawled in a cavern like a little old mole.

While the one who loved more passed through a door she bowed and blinked and piddled a bit, but low and behold upon the floor was a big high chair on which she could sit.

She sat there awhile, her frown turned to a smile, as she saw a light shine in the cave.

She strolled right on out and dancing about she felt happy, courageous and brave.

By: JvS © copyright 2005 All Rights Reserved

Mood:  happy

Far away and long ago a mother's heart so true, lest she forgot the merriment t’was in her eyes so blue.
A mother blonde and blue of eyes, so fair her skin was then, but now her flesh is gone from here and won’t come back again.
She was cool and so aloof that no one bid her down, she needed no one but her children, for them she came around.
She traveled life a lonely soul surrounded by a crowd, she was beautiful and one could see she was so very proud.

One day we talked and then she cried for she thought my love was lost; my dream was that she came to me and gave my head a toss.

Who would know the love I had inside my garish soul, only she could ever see this part of me so bold.
A child is but an image of the blood that bore her flesh, and in her image we pass the blood that we bare and we caress.
Our children come to us as we have come to them, yet every child is different and each one, a loving gem.
Pass not our merry lives away without yielding to our discontent; show your love in every way and give your Mom her compliment.

By: JvS © 2002

Gilda Schaal All Rights Reserved