Divine Celestial "Fun"

A CHERUB'S FESTIVAL

One glorious Sunday afternoon

I walked through a field of vanilla

so sweet to my senses

as I was humming a heavenly tune.

So I laid beside a flowing brook

and dreamt of angels in the clouds

so peaceful to my soul

as I opened my eyes, to the sky I looked.

A rainbow of colors so bright and gay

appeared all of a sudden up there

so vividly to my eyes

as I stood up and jumped to catch a ray.

I felt as I was in the clouds so high

where a cherub festival was played

so joyful to my mind

as I learned in my dream to fly.

poem by Anjelikka

We had a special set at the Basement Club called Angels and Demons (Devils) which was really cool. Always fun to dress up in  costumes and for me my favorite as an angel.

Come and join us next time at the Basement Club. Every Saturday and Sunday 6-8 PM SLT. You never know what we will be up to, but you can count that the music will be good. We play music not just tunes :) See you there.

SUGAR IS NOT THE ONLY THING SWEET

A moment in time

just a little fragment of eternity

yet as significant

as the birth of a child

is a day spend with you.

You turn sadness into

chocolate mousse

with raspberry sauce.

I guess we should never take for granted the minutes and hours someone spends with us. So what does that mean "take for granted" ? Let us look at this a bit closer.

The dictionary says : 

take somebody for granted

"to not show that you are grateful to someone for helping you or that you are happy they are with you, often because they have helped you or been with you so often.

One of the problems with relationships is that after a while you begin to take each other for granted."

I am happy to say that we have never taken each other for granted. There isn't a day I wouldn't want to be with him. In fact, if there was an extra day I would spend it with him too.

Make every day special and always tell each other that the time you spend with them was wonderful, because it was.

Happy Canada Day

I like Canadians.

They are so unlike Americans.
They go home at night.
Their cigarettes don't smell bad.
Their hats fit.
They really believe that they won the war.
They don't believe in Literature.
They think Art has been exaggerated.
But they are wonderful on ice skates.
A few of them are very rich.
But when they are rich they buy more horses
Than motor cars.
Chicago calls Toronto a puritan town.
But both boxing and horse-racing are illegal
In Chicago.
Nobody works on Sunday.
Nobody.
That doesn't make me mad.
There is only one Woodbine.
But were you ever at Blue Bonnets?
If you kill somebody with a motor car in Ontario
You are liable to go to jail.
So it isn't done.
There have been over 500 people killed by motor cars
In Chicago
So far this year.
It is hard to get rich in Canada.
But it is easy to make money.
There are too many tea rooms.
But, then, there are no cabarets.
If you tip a waiter a quarter
He says "Thank you."
Instead of calling the bouncer.
They let women stand up in the street cars.
Even if they are good-looking.
They are all in a hurry to get home to supper
And their radio sets.
They are a fine people.
I like them.

by Ernest Hemingway

Just a great guy :)

Here is a little prayer for those single ladies out there. I didn't write this. but sounds good to me. I am lucky Zeekeee found me before I drowned.

Before I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for a man, who's not a creep,
One who's handsome, smart and strong.
One who loves to listen long,
One who thinks before he speaks,
One who'll call, not wait for weeks.
I pray he's gainfully employed,
When I spend his cash, won't be annoyed.
Pulls out my chair and opens my door,
Massages my back and begs to do more.
Oh! Send me a man who'll make love to my mind,
Knows what to answer to "how big is my behind?"
I pray that this man will love me to no end,
And always be my very best friend.

Zeekeee fits that request very well.

I was checking out some photographers for the upcoming wedding, but my goodness are these people for real? 
They wanted some pretty hefty fees for their services. I think I will have to take all the pictures myself.

I dream the dream

I dream the dream

The one I wished to be

That night we met

to set us free.

And you with me

I long to hold and kiss

to touch and feel

The lips I miss.

A new world for us

We create and share

Virtual love and romance

With pixelated care.

I decided to write a little poem today. Our wedding preparations are almost completed. The bridesmaids and groomsmen have their outfits, we have an officiant, the venue is ready. Oh, and I have my dress and bouquet. 
Now we just have to get the vows ready and the ceremony.
In the meantime, visit the Maison de L'amour...the ocean property I worked very hard on to complete. Enjoy :) 

Slumber seldom comes to me (poem)

Slumber seldom comes to me

I swim below the yellow sea

When tossing and turning

Drowns me with yearning

Each drop of liquid pure

Mixing emotions de jure

Amongst the fears of life

Piercing heart s of strife

And deeper in a glass cage

Pushed by thundering rage

Neptune on the sand of white

To the sky of glorious height

Trident in the fist at right

Water elements with fright

Solitude of Pisces’ dream

I awake and scream.

Anjelikka

Poem: For the truth is what I said

Second Life can be very therapeutic for many of us or of course it becomes an addiction, not necessarily bad. When Real Life is too troublesome I come here and see the beauty in the Art on my screen. Sometimes it helps me create my own pixels as in photographs or written form, like this poem below inspired by Sirens Isle:


The truth is what I said,
for some reason you misread.
As fast as the wind twirls
around my black colored curls,
you wrote your own version,
and made the rug Persian.

No sorrow is greater than
being misunderstood again.
Ahoy! I sail the pixelated sea,
where the air is not salty but free.
A seagull over the island circles
the life under water gurgles.

Oh Siren, nymph of the sea,
sailors admire your sweet beauty,
but now the plane lies in the water;
and the truth has become your slaughter.
Yet I stay here without regret
for the truth is what I said. 

VIDEO: Falling Snow

Let it snow is a beautiful Winter Sim. You want to go here with someone so you can dance and play in the snow. It is a very romantic place. You can also come here if you just want to get away from it all and enjoy the calm Winter as the snow falls.

"FALLING SNOW"

See the pretty snowflakes,
Falling from the sky;
On the wall and housetops,
Soft and thick they lie.

On the window ledges,
On the branches bare;
Now how fast they gather,
Filling all the air.

Look into the garden,
Where the grass was green;
Covered by the snowflakes,
Not a blade is seen.

Now the bare black bushes,
All look soft and white,
Every twig is laden,
What a pretty sight!

In the Fog

Hermann Hesse is one of my favorite poets and writers...he also was a great painter and artist. I truly believe the Retreat has many parts of his passion for creativity present.

Strange, to wander in the fog.
Each bush and stone stands alone,
No tree sees the next one,
Each is alone.
My world was full of friends
When my life was filled with light,
Now as the fog descends
None is still to be seen.
Truly there is no wise man
Who does not know the dark
Which quietly and inescapably
Separates him from everything else.
Strange, to wander in the fog,
To live is to be alone.
No man knows the next man,
Each is alone.

Maybe we all need to be NOT so in the fog and pay attention to what is around us...the daily beauty of life and the elements.

...it is most mad and moonly...

love is more thicker than forget

more thinner than recall

more seldom than a wave is wet

more frequent than to fail

it is most mad and moonly

and less it shall unbe

than all the sea which only

is deeper than the sea

love is less always than to win

less never than alive

less bigger than the least begin

less littler than forgive

it is most sane and sunly

and more it cannot die

than all the sky which only

is higher than the sky

e.e. cummings

Somehow romance for us never dies, it comes around and blossoms all over again.

Sonnet XVII

My newest machinima...

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Mary had a little Frog

Mary had a little frog.

The frog croaked every day.

And Mary always wondered

What the frog was trying to say.

To freshen up the critter’s breath,

She fed the frog some mints.

And when she gave the frog a kiss,

It turned into a prince.

Mary and the prince were married,

And on that happy day,

Mary asked the prince just what

The frog had tried to say.

“Mary,” said the handsome prince,

“I’m going to tell you true:

When the frog croaked it was saying,

‘I love you’.”

Text © Bruce Lansky

A clear midnight

A Clear Midnight

This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,

Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,

Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou

lovest best.

Night, sleep, and the stars. 

Walt Whitman