Tag Archives: love

Thanks, everyone!

WARNING! THIS POST MAY CONTAIN STRONG CHEESE!

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I’d like to thank all the amazing bloggers who have supported my prospective venture into uncharted waters. Some have reblogged the post in which I explained my plan, others have given helpful technical advice, or told me where I can access it. Many have wished me well. I humbly thank you all. Should my new blog succeed, I want you to know that you will all have contributed to its success.

It’s going to take a while to get the blog up and running, as I’ve decided to do a blogging course which Safar at Blisters, Bunions & Blarney thoughtfully directed me to. Although I’ve been blogging for two years, there are a lot of things I don’t understand about SEO (Search Engine Optimization), and I’m sure there will be other little details on the course which will be valuable. The course begins this coming Monday, and I expect to start building my blog after the first lesson; it won’t go public until I have all the details straight. A part of me wants to rush into it, but that wouldn’t be wise. It needs to create immediate impact to prevent the risk of it fizzling out. It has to succeed.

Thank you all again.
You have done more than you can know.

I had compassion by the bucketload, but there were a lot of factors lacking in my life.

By liking me, you made me feel likeable.

By trusting me, you taught me to trust again.

By showing your faith in me, you gave me faith in myself,

and with your love, you eradicated my fear of giving out love.

You’ve given me all the tools to succeed

(apart from writing: I’ve got that covered)

Please highlight space between brackets to reveal arrogant secret message.

🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

If that sounds like some clever little piece of word-weaving-Jane-ishness, I want you to know it’s not. It comes from my heart. I’m a richer, better person for knowing all of you. I love you all.

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 ©Jane Paterson Basil

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Gifts

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In
this
lonely
living room
clocks don’t tick.
Time
pretends
to stand still,
while I pretend
that there is no tock.
Festive
decorations
hang, my lights,
my many glittery bells,
giving the bright impression
that my life, and my family are well.
Tomorrow,
I will find a way
to chase away lost days:
catch up with the relentlessly
shifting, silent clock of turning time.
I will wrap the treats my  family really need,
though few of them are found in humble retail shops.
Here’s a list of all the gifts I want to give: health, happiness,
and
love, love,
love, love,
love, love,
endlessly.

©Jane Paterson Basil

For Laura

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I’m seated by the window, watching boredom unfurl,
when you walk down the street, my dear depleted girl.
I focus my eyes on your wasted little frame;
hunt for a clue that something is the same;
a hint of that innocence I used to see;
the essence of your childhood personality;
something I can recognise that hasn’t changed;
a spark within your heart that’s not been rearranged;
a clue that you still attached to this family
in whatever odd way you may wish to be.

your unreachable proximity is baffling to me,
I watch you closely though I know you can’t see.
I’m unsure if in my absence you feel like my daughter;
it pricks me with guilt, makes me feel like a voyeur;
I’m spying like a stranger, an agenda in mind;
to steal away the limited freedom of your kind;
to lock you in my love or in a barred up cage;
ignore your screaming agony, your frothing rage;
strangle all the dealers who knock on the door,
until you finally appreciate what life is for;
when you rediscover a child’s sense of mystery,
and your hunger for drugs recedes into history.

You’ve passed the houses and you’re out of view;
I wish I’d left my flat and caught up with you,
but I know you’re needing something as you’re in a hurry,
and your answers to my questions would make me worry;
I shouldn’t inquire but there’s a limitation
on how many ways to have open conversation,
since you fell into a hole full of chemical highs,
while to everyone’s surprise, your body survived.
There’s so little of you left, but whatever you do
and whatever more you lose, I will always love you.

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©Jane Paterson Basil

The lonely man

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Having made the decision to dismiss all things related to jiggling passion and doe-eyed romance, she hypnotised her libido into an indifferent torpor.

Months stretched peacefully into years, before a lonely man with physical allure, but dull conversation, approached with an inviting smile, injecting a rippling frisson beneath dry skin;
a tiny itch like the tail of a sting.

The eyes of the lonely man dove deep into the core of her, and with a finger, tickled unwilling, damp fantasies.

His hand(as if by accident), brushed lightly against her thigh, pressing lascivious ideas into wakening flesh.

As weeks went by, each accidental meeting added heat to her unwanted, wanton desire for the relief which he was longing to give.

And he, hungry for love, pitching for her heart, her soul, continued in the only way he knew,
until she, weakened by the ache, gave him the treat of no more than her body.

It would not be true to say she had no heart, for in the moist heat before he undid her buttons and zips, her heart froze at the knowledge that the lonely man with physical allure but no conversation, was undone.

Later, in her melting tower she turned the lock, took a shower, cleansed herself in steam, all the while humming the closing strains of a bawdy song, her demeanor briefly shaken by his desolate scream.

Wrapped in fresh linen, her renewed flesh forever banned from thinking of him, she slept.

The Daily Post #Banned

©Jane Paterson Basil

Those promises

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those loving promises
shaped by shy lips
lightly brushing the ear
with caressing sigh
weaving a dry melody

those loving promises
conveyed through eyes
glittering with unfulfilled desire
their fire hidden
behind a tiny fear

those loving promises
pressed into my aquiescant flesh
giving your firm body confidence
finally making you believe
you had won my love

those promises so truly given

I regret that for me
it was merely a pleasant game of
sensuous interplay
ending in physical gratification

it should have mattered
that you were more than a mechanical toy
to be switched on with a click
and quickly discarded

you were so much better than that

did I hear the rip of your heart splitting?
possibly
but I was more interested in the promising blue eyed thing
swinging into view

I smiled at him, never guessing
he was my retribution

The Daily Post #Promises

©Jane Paterson Basil

Hairy legs

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comely green eyes gazed into mine
reavealing his deepest desires
eyes that could hold entire conversations
even while the lips dripped drivel

I read the language of those eyes
the plea
please love me, they cried

the promises
I’d scatter flowers for you, build towering castles in your name,
it would be a passionate game of love that only two can play
me and you, side by side, day by day…
we could be a team, I’d buy you icecream, life would be a dream…

you get the scene

and the questions
wouldn’t I like the company, a helpmate, soulmate, best mate,
a man to to rely on, a shoulder to cry on
a warm companion in my bed
why won’t I try
to be half of a duo instead

I smiled at the cliched phrases written in his eyes

I’ll tell you why, I said
I’m not inclined to shave my legs

©Jane Paterson Basil