Site hosted by Angelfire.com: Build your free website today!
 
 
Open Community
Post to this Blog
« June 2009 »
S M T W T F S
1 2 3 4 5 6
7 8 9 10 11 12 13
14 15 16 17 18 19 20
21 22 23 24 25 26 27
28 29 30


 
 
Poetry and Stories by JVS
Tuesday, 23 June 2009
For Her


 In my heart I see a dream unfold before me, a dream of silence yet to come and one to come who will adore me.

Her heart is riddled like a shell shocked player with miles of road to wander, she will never let me go for if she does her life will squander.
She keeps me here for loving and keeps you there for God knows what; she's like a gambler in a mist, waiting for the golden coin, to drop into a mirrored slot.

The coin goes in and hits the bottom, searching for a sweet reflection; the bells go off inside her head to send her heart in my direction.
She knows I'm there and takes my soul for granted and with lust; she knows I am the one true lover who she can always trust.
She keep's me in her sunlight while caressing me in twilight; she loves me when she wants me, as we kiss under the skylight.
Who can love her good and show her where she needs to be, I often thought of that, but always knew that it was me.
I'll wait to give you all I am and never claim your bounty, and then one day your heart will say,

 

"You,  are the one I love"

 

 

By: JvS aka Gilda Schaal © 2005 All Rights Reserved


Posted by jillschaal at 3:36 PM EDT
Updated: Tuesday, 23 June 2009 3:50 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post
WOLFEN
Mood:  irritated

August 12, 2002 at 01:00:01 AM by Jill

 

Wolfen

The wolf has changed into a man and taken your breath inside his evil heart.
He breathed a spell of un-power over your aura to dismantle your knowledge of right and wrong.
The spirit that gave you goodness made you kneel like a wantonness whore, and fed you full of lusts desires.
The dragon of emptiness glowed in the eyes of your new master and as you kneel before the wolf, he sings his insane song.


By: JvS aka Gilda Schaal © 2002All Rights Reserved


Posted by jillschaal at 3:31 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post
Greta GArbo

Greta Garbo

 

She slept while I thought, a miracle child, she grew up so lovely and so very wild.

Her heart was so lonely, I wish she could see, the beautiful lady God wished her to be.

In hindsight I saw her for what she was then, a wild child just waiting to mingle and blend.

Her name was Greta, she was so finely tuned, and she made life her love song, when she looked to the moon.

If she singled you out with her long lusting stare, you would breathe in her charm and hold her so dear.

 

By: JvS aka Gilda Schaal

Posted by jillschaal at 3:28 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post
Tuesday, 9 June 2009
Whispering Willow
Mood:  happy
Topic: Poetry

 Dedicated to my husband

 

 My true love is sleeping so far from my home yet in the distance I feel him caress my flesh my and bone.

 If I were to fly in his arms I would be as he whispers my name on his breath, he would tangle me up like a vine on a tree, I will love him in life and in death.

 Many young years have we spent in the past, glistening love was our tale, we held on so tight till we entered the light, and our future was set on a sail.

 
 The mystery of us is not hard to understand, for our path was a glorious plan.
This is a tale of love strong and true, the love of a woman and man.


 We are lovers of beauty and our beauty can be seen in the wind of the whispering willow. My breath can be felt on his succulent lips as we lie face to face on my pillow.

 
 We were lovers before, we are lovers evermore, we'll be lovers through time and again.  I love you my love with a heart strong and true,  we are lovers and you are my friend.

 

By:
 JvS aka Gilda Schaal all rights reserved ©2005


Posted by jillschaal at 5:51 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post
Terror on Dark Street
Mood:  don't ask
Topic: Story

Terror on Dark Street

 

WHO IS WALKING IN THE NIGHT LIKE A MAD MAN, CLOAKED IN A LONG RUFFLED GOWN?  BLACKENED BY THE DEPTH OF ANGUISH, HE IS LIKE A PROWLER ON THE HUNT TO FORCE HIS WAY INTO YOUR UNSUSPECTING SOUL!

HE WILL FIND YOU AND CRUMBLE YOU IN TWO!            

HE WILL FORCE YOU DOWN ON THE GROUND AND STUFF YOUR MOUTH WITH WORMS.

HE IS THE SEEKER OF VENGEANCE!

HE COMES TO CLAIM A BOUNTY AND WILL NOT LEAVE THIS EARTH UNTIL HE FINDS YOU.

HE IS A RAIDER ON A MISSION!

HE EXISTS ONLY IN YOUR MIND!

HE ATTACKS YOUR GUILT AND DEFILES YOU WITH A MIRRORED IMAGE.

HE HAS A NAME, HIS NAME IS, ‘OBSCURITY.’ 

HE IS THE FEAR THAT WEILDS HIS HEAVY SWORD UPON YOUR BREAST FOR ALL THE BAD YOU HAVE DONE IN LIFE AND HE WILL GET YOU, NO MATTER HOW FAR YOU RUN.

YOUR ONLY CHANCE TO RID YOURSELF OF HIM IS TO TURN AROUND AND FACE HIM DEAD ON!

YOU MUST TELL HIM TO LEAVE AND TO STAY AWAY, TELL HIM HE IS NOT PERMITTED TO RETURN.
HE WILL ONLY LEAVE IF HE KNOW'S THAT YOU HAVE CHANGED YOUR
VILE WAYS.

HE WANTS NO MORE FORNICATION, YET HE WANTS YOUR SOUL.

IF YOU REPENT HE WILL DISTANCE HIMSELF FROM YOU AND SEEK OUT ANOTHER.

HE IS; THE ‘TERROR ON DARK STREET.’ 

HE WILL BLOW FIREY SMOKE DOWN YOUR THROAT; HE WILL PILLAGE YOUR BRAIN WITH GRUESOME VISIONS. 

THE AFTERSHOCK OF HIS APPEARANCE WILL LEAVE YOU WITH AN IMPRINT OF HIS GORY FACE EMBEDDED IN YOUR EYES WHEN THEY FIND YOUR LIFELESS BODY.

HIS NAME IS, ‘ INIQUITOUS.’ 

HE WILL SLEEK OFF INTO THE NIGHT AFTER HE PLUMMELS YOU TO A WASTE LAND BEYOND THE FIRES OF HELL.

HE WILL DISROBE HIMSELF AND EXPOSE A BEAUTIFUL BODY, THE BODY OF WOMAN BARING LOINS OF DECIET!

HE HAS A NAME; HIS NAME IS, ‘UNFORGIVEN.’

By:  JvS  aka Gilda Schaal © 2007 All Rights Reserved


Posted by jillschaal at 5:12 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post
My Visit to the Tibetan Mountains
Mood:  happy
Topic: Story

My visit to the Tibetan Mountain Temple
'A comedy of minds'

 

Far in the hills there sat an illustrious temple where monks lived and prayed and listened to the preaching of the great Dahli Pardon.  Monks were all over the place eating and drinking, saying psalms and rubbing the master’s baldhead while chanting wishes.  

When I got there in my little 1971 yellow hatch back Toyota Celica I could hardly wait to get out of the car and race up the hill to the temple.  I put the car in park, took the key out of the ignition and held my tummy in and still couldn’t get passed the steering wheel.  I grabbed the small can of Armour-all which I kept in my glove box and sprayed it all over the steering wheel. Doing this allowed me to slide out of the car as easy as trash slid out of George Bush’s mouth.

Up the hill I ran, tripping over the bedelia & petunia blossoms, scuttling frantically at the prospect of meeting the great Dahli herself.  When I got to the temple gate I was greeted by a monk, he blindfolded me and took me toward the temple door.  I took my blindfold off and entered the temple in silence, there she was sitting beneath a very ornate alter donned in a coat of many colors.  She looked like Miss Piggy, big and pink; in fact she was a big pink pig.  I was shocked but not surprised.  I even wiped a tear from my dry eye. “Hand me the visine please!”  They say visine takes the red out but I had pink eye from looking at the Dahli as she bent over in the petunia patch.

I listened, I saw, I heard, I looked, and I listened again.  Dahli was belting out a psalm, it sounded familiar.

I knew I heard this psalm before, ‘da da da da da da da_da da da da da da da, da rah rah rah’.  Dayum, it was the stripper song!

At that moment several monks regaled into the temple arm in arm looking like the Rockettes doing a river dance at Radio City Music Hall.

There was a big crack on the temple ceiling. These temples sure aint what they’re cracked up to be.  I asked the head monk if I could repair their cracks; he broke his vow of silence long enough to tell me to quit the monkey business.  

I knew I owned a Candle Shoppe but I never even knew I was in the monkey business.  

I made a mental note to call my accountant in the morning.  

I wanted to talk with the Dahli and attain some insight.  I took my glasses off as she pointed at me, waving her finger for me to come closer.  She was so big and so pink, being in her presence was totally moving.  She moved, I moved, she moved again, everything moved!  Like I said, it was totally moving.  Oh Dahli I screeched as I fell to my knees, anoint me with your wisdom and grace. She began to oink, I mean speak, She told me of a place in the hills far away, she said that love was like a butterfly, she told me of a girl with a holy destiny.  I whispered the name of a good tailor.  She leaned over and whispered in my ear, “You can’t be a bacon, ooops I mean ‘beacon if your light don’t shine.”  

 I asked who this girl might be and she told me the girl was named Hiawatha.  I was so confused; I thought Hiawatha was a poem written by Longfellow.  She laughed like a wild banshee, slapping me on the back and shouting…gitcheegoomeeeeeeeeeee!

So I slapped her back and told her to get her own goomie!

I asked her to show me the way out of the temple, she told me to go two doors down, their laughing and drinking and having a party with some tramp.  There you will find the golden camel of Tibet, rub his hump and when he spits three times you will have your answer but you better hurry cause he only works from nine to five.  She was anxious to get rid of me because she wanted to get to the casino Tibet.  I left her standing there; I went two doors down and opened the door and saw Hiawatha there, I knew this was my chance and so I took it, Hiawatha I humbly asked…what is the meaning of life? She looked at me full of wisdom and said; "let me call my handmaiden and she shall bestow you with your answer", with that she opened her mouth and screamed...

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jo leeeeeee-eee-eeeeen.  

She waltzed over to me; her beauty was beyond compare with flaming locks of auburn hair.  She had ivory skin and eyes of emerald green.  I asked her, “What is the meaning to life?”  She said that life was like an Island in the stream, a place where one could meditate.  A place of solace and solitude where one can freely flatulate.  Let the wind go free where ere ye be, if not the wind may killeth thee. I was so disappointed to find out the meaning of life was “GAS”.

With that she told me it was time for me to go. Fry Daddy the silent rapping monk led me to an exit door.  I found myself standing in the petunia bed with Dahli Pardon.  I said, I have to go cause if I should stay I would only be in your way.  I went to my car, happy at the prospect of heading home. As I slowly drove away I saw Dahli in the petunia patch waving her hanky and in the distance I heard her saying, I, I, I will alwayays love you-oooo - oooooooo!

 

 

By: JvS and LMG aka Gilda Schaal and Linda Marie Sharp © 2005 All Rights Reserved

Posted by jillschaal at 5:07 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post
My Thoughts Tonight - August 11th. 10:38 pm
Topic: My Thoughts

 

 

 

 Souls that share but see nothing in the depth of one soul lose so much but not by their own control.

Loving two is hard to do and loving three is far too many.
Kissing the warmth of her hairline and letting her slip away the very nex't day is what you do when your heart is hardened.
Kissing the lips of the most precious thing in your whole life is why you breathe,  it is why you wait.
Being considered someone less than someone lesser is a hard pill to swallow.
Caring and not wanting to let go for fear of never again feeling is wrong because you do yourself a great injustice.

Yet there you sit, ever waiting but knowing that once in a lifetime these feelings that were, still are, and will never pass.

 

 By: JvS aka Gilda Schaal © 2002 All Rights Reserved

Posted by jillschaal at 4:46 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post
Thinking To Myself
Mood:  chillin'
Topic: My Thoughts

Sometimes a person gets tired of having no privacy. I know that having a place to go to where you have no one pulling at you to do this or that can be a comfort zone. For me, the night I met you, was a night like that.

I watched for a week or so but no one noticed I was there.  I remember coming into the chat room and seeing familiar names each day.

One day your name was there and something you wrote caught my eye.

From then on every time you wrote anything I was watching your every word.  You were the light that I saw among the darkness that was sitting on my shoulder.  Times are strange for people like me, being a deep thinker sometimes leaves way for to many things, so many thoughts, ahhhhh what would it be like to be simple of mind? 

I envy the one whose mind goes in an even direction. They see things in black and white. There is a right way and a wrong way, no mincing around of thoughts to confuse a reasonable solution.

When simplicity is taken to a level of concern and our minds have to work overtime, is it fair for another to strap us down by taking up our time for good thinking?

I do so value my alone time, the time to seek out a different world and to set my eyes on a new expanse over the ever so present internet people who are much like me.  We feel good sitting at our computers because they do not give us more then we can bare.  If we do not like what we are seeing we can go elsewhere in one click of our little mousy mice.

I am talking to you; the things I am writing are the words within my mind.

You are very nice, very sweet, someone I have met but have not seen in fleshly form.  If I were to describe you I would have to describe you from the inside, not from a visual perspective. I could not tell you your hair color or eye color. I could not tell you how short or tall you are or if you had a limp or wore your clothes like an old hippy.

All I could say is that you have given me a piece of sunshine.  I think your eyes are sparkling and they pierce my heartstrings.  I would like to be with you and talk to you face to face but I know that would take some planning.

If you were here I would take your hand and look deeply into your eyes.

You would notice that my smile was sincere. You may look down a little because you don't exactly know what to do with me but you would only look down for a short time because you are beautiful of heart and your strength is the dream which will slowly unfold to save a lonely soul like myself.

There is no bidding that will interrupt the bonding of hearts that come together in friendship.  If time goes by and all we are is what we see, then let the goodness of our spirits flow around the aura of our beings.

I perpetuate to you that I am who I am in the name of the Father and His son, and the holy spirit of our breath.

Life is too short to hold back, with age comes a definite wisdom.  We cannot live more than a half century in this life and not have learned a little.

I bequeath to you a love that is true. The love of a friend is more important than the attraction of flesh

 

By: JvS aka Gilda Schaal Ó 2005 All Rights Reserved

Posted by jillschaal at 4:08 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post
Sunday, 7 June 2009
My Teddy
Mood:  crushed out
Topic: Poetry

 



My Teddy Bear was shaggy and torn.
I looked at her this very morn.
Her eyes were gray her nose was ripped.
Her tail still fluffy, but her cork was flipped.
We climbed in bed and snuggled up.
I called her my Teddy she called me her Pup.
Once was a time she gave me pleasure.
I loved her always she loved me never.
Or so I thought and was I wrong?
My Teddy just needed me to be strong.
She loved me like a Teddy should.
She always did what I never could.
But Teddy Bears are stuffed you know.

And so are girls who puff and blow.
It was my steam that made Teddy shaggy,
so forlorn and simply raggy.
I kissed my Teddy on the nose,

and told her to go where the four winds blow.
She smiled and left me all alone,

to drink my tea and eat my scone.
I drank and ate, and cavorted around,
as Teddy watched her Pup expound.
Teddy was mad as I acted glad, but I knew that she was smart.
She would love me still and always will, for I was her Pup with the true blue heart.
Now if you have a Teddy Bear, fluff her everyday.
Cause if you don't take care of her, she’s bound to run away.

 

 

By:  JvS aka Gilda Schaal © 2006 All Rights Reserved


 


Posted by jillschaal at 4:12 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post
HARLEY
Mood:  chillin'
Topic: Story

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

 


Posted by jillschaal at 4:02 PM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink | Share This Post

Newer | Latest | Older