The Art of Love

 

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© Lynda Filler Photography, Venice, Italy

 

The Art of Love

 

a moments rest

time to digest

the thoughts of him

his illness

my Love

so long ago

and yet

always clear

present

and near

 

words

uninvited

the sound of his voice teasing

knowing that something

was not

quite

right

 

the solemn day

rushes up to me

grabs my heart

squeezes old tears

demands of me

an/swer/s (to questions) I don’t want to hear

 

     what are you doing sweet heart

     there is an art to love

     have you been asleep

     throughout your life

 

     are you too busy

     looking for Love

     to follow the rules?

 

there is no logic to Love, I respond

it cannot be dissected

ana/lyz/ed

filed

it does not fit

into

patterns

principles and strategies

there are no rules

to Love

 

the art is in the Loving

in the selflessness

in the joy of knowing

your beloved feels safe

and loved

 

the Art is in the Love

 

and for this Love

I would do anything

 

and so

I do nothing

 

© The Art of Love by Lynda Filler, I (Spy) Love

 

 

 

 

 

What is life’s​ most important lesson?

 

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The most important lesson in life is to learn to be happy. In order to do this, you must find a way to fall in love—with yourself.

The movies, books, TV, social pressures all tell us that happiness is about money, success, prestige, finding a mate, having children. I will tell you that if you are looking for those things to make you happy in this lifetime, you will always be searching.

So look for peace and joy in the simple pleasures of life. Learn about the things that interest you. Be a loving daughter, mother, father, son, or friend.

Find your passion, the things in life that make your heart sing. I write, sometimes paint, love to read, love to travel, discover new things, people, food. Find your passion because no one can ever take your inner happiness and peace away. Learn this lesson early by asking the question you have asked me; and practice what fulfills you and makes your heart sing.

And if anyone tells you you’re selfish, so be it. In the end, we come into this world alone and we exit in the same fashion. But along the way, my friend, learn how to love yourself and you will never be lonely.

How long did you take to finish writing a novel? Q

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In my lifetime I’ve written 4 complete novels, published two of them. The first I lost. Don’t laugh! I must have thrown it out by accident thinking it was previously published poetry work! I wrote the first book over 6 months and consequently if I can focus on it, 4 months seems to be my period to write a book. But the editing can take at least another month with back and forth.

Thoughts to make yourself more efficient:

  1. Know where you’re going when you begin, otherwise you could be writing that novel for years
  2. Plot it out even if it’s not a mystery—I use Excel
  3. Be open to surprises that will throw your plot off—visitors who show up in your mind and jump onto the page without warning!
  4. Write, write, write—try not to go back over what you’ve written and edit. It’s hard to do that but all writing teachers will say write that first draft and then go back
  5. My personal challenge: be aware of plot holes.
  6. Have fun!!

Yearnings… p o e t r y

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Yearnings

 

by Lynda Filler

in the stillness

of this New Year’s night

I stare at stars

i m a g i n i n g

if they could speak

would they repeat

laments

of lovers past

lovers thwarted

lovers longing

for memories

for chances

to re-invent

to re-live

to realize hearts last journey

when spirits soared

and hope was alive

when love took my breath away

and time stood still

 

 

 

Welcome #RWISA Author Jan Sikes

 

 

 

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

By Jan Sikes

Henry Jacobsen ran gnarled fingers through 84 years of living and swatted at a fly that buzzed around his head. The sun warmed his old bones and he turned to face his longtime friend. “You know, Aaron, what the world needs now, is for people to show a little more respect to each other. Back in my day, if I acted or talked disrespectful, I got my hide tanned.”

The wooden boards underneath Aaron’s rocker creaked in syncopated rhythm with his movement. “Yep, Henry. Times are different nowadays.”

Henry timed his chair rhythm with Aaron’s. “Before I came to stay here, I had a house over on Boulder Street. There was a family a few doors down that was always borrowing things from me, but somehow they never remembered to return any of them.”

Aaron nodded. “I’ve had it happen to me many times.”

“I pulled into the driveway one day just in time to see the oldest kid unscrewing my water hose. By the time I parked the car and got out, he had it slung over his shoulder.” Henry’s frown deepened. “It’s frustrating when you can’t move like you used to.”

He gazed across the green manicured lawn of the Post Oaks Retirement Center as if viewing some long-ago forgotten scene.

“Well?” Aaron prodded. “What did you do?”

“I hollered at him and asked what in the world he thought he was doing. And you know what he had the nerve to say to me?” Henry screwed up his face.

“Nope.”

“He said that he was taking my water hose so he could wash his motorcycle.”

“Don’t that beat all? Aaron clicked his tongue. “Didn’t even bother to ask you.”

“I saw red. I lit into him like nobody’s business,” he growled. “The nerve. Take a man’s things like they meant nothing.”

Aaron shifted to take the weight off his bad hip. “There was a day when I would’ve jumped a guy for pulling a stunt like that. But those times are over for me. At this point, I’m doin’ good just to make it from the bed to the bathroom without embarrassing myself.”

“Yeah, me too. But, I tell you, I didn’t take it lying down. I told him what a rotten, no good, worthless human being he was and that he’d better put the water hose down or I’d call the cops and turn him in for stealing.”

“What did he do then?”

“He laughed in my face…told me I was too old to use the damn water hose anyway and he needed it.”

“Why, the nerve!”

“I marched myself inside and called the cops. When they came, I gave them a list of everything they had so-called borrowed and said I wanted it all back.”

“Did you get it?”

“Yeah. In pieces. The weed eater was battered and wouldn’t start. My shovel was broken in half. The water hose was split in two pieces. All of it was in shambles. Just no respect. That’s what the world has come to.”

Silence spun a web between the two old-timers who’d seen more than a lifetime of battles.

“I remember when I was in the Army. Nobody ever pilfered in someone else’s belongings. I did two tours overseas, fighting for this country and now I have to wonder what for.” Henry’s voice trembled. “The way folks carry on is a shame. Just no regard for one another.”

Aaron halted the rocker and leaned forward. “You’re right, Henry. The mess things are in is downright disgraceful. Take for instance the presidential election. Now, I can’t say I agree with the candidate who won, but for people to go out and tear stuff up, turn on friends and family who voted for him, and get consumed with hatred is ridiculous. No one is willing to bend.”

“Never saw anything like it,” Henry agreed. “I remember when John F. Kennedy won the election in 1960. People spoke out against him because he was catholic. But, they weren’t filled with the kind of hatred they are today. It pains me to think about what kind of society our grandkids are growing up in. For old geezers like ourselves, it don’t really matter all that much. We’re on our way out.”

“Dinosaurs. Men like us with backbone and decency are disappearing just like those prehistoric creatures did. I’d sure like to see something that would give me hope for the future. Hope for our country.” Aaron’s rheumy eyes glistened.

Henry pushed up from the rocker and stretched. It troubled him more than he could say that his grandchildren were growing up in these unstable times. A tired old man needs salve for his weary soul.

Just as he was about to shuffle inside, he saw his grandson, Micah, bounding across the lawn.

Micah waved. “Hi, Grandpa.”

Henry waved back.

Breathless, Micah reached the two men. “Hey, Gramps, look at this beautiful spring day. How about I bust you out of here and we go fishing?”

Henry chuckled. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard in a long time.” He turned to Aaron and winked. “There’s our hope. This young man knows how to respect his elders.”

With that, he joined his grandson. It didn’t escape his notice that Micah slowed his steps to match his grandfather’s or that he held the door while they went inside.

Respect. That’s what Micah demonstrated.

And, it’s precisely the healing the world now needs.

 

 

 

Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH “RWISA WRITE Showcase Tour today!  We ask that if you have enjoyed this member’s writing, to please visit their Author Page on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they’ve turned you into a fan.  WE ask that you also check out their books in the RWISA or RRBC catalogs.  Thanks, again for your support and we hope that you will follow each member along this amazing tour of talent!  Don’t forget to click the link below to learn more about this author: Jan Sikes