Reposting a favorite...THE MURDER OF LOVE

Twas Valentine's Eve and I slumped in my chair,
No chocolates or roses, or man in my lair.
Cupid lay dead on the Persian rug in the hall
His bow to his side, an arrow stuck in my wall.

They'll think I did it, killed "Love" out of spite,
Single people everywhere will rally to fight.
The truth will stay hidden, I won't have my say,
They'll jump to conclusions and lock me away.
The pink cherub had it coming, arriving so late,
I waited all week for him to change my fate.
When he never showed, I surrendered my plight
All I wanted was a bath and to call it a night.

Surrounded in bubbles and candles aglow,
I resigned to my destiny at Cupid's no-show,
But when something downstairs made a thump and crash,
I jumped from the tub with nothing covering my ass.
I fumbled in darkness not wanting to be seen
For a gun, a bat, a weapon of means.

Soapy footprints marked my descent downstairs,
Without knowing I stood naked, in the crosshairs.
I screamed when the pain shot through my behind
And swung my bat fast, dazed out of my mind.
He squealed like a pig but my aim was too good,
His wings beat hard, but he still smacked the wood.
With arrow still dangling from one precious cheek,
I painfully scurried to save Love's little "geek."
No time for the lights when I saw my mistake,
But the comment he made determined his fate.

"Seriously, lady you should join a gym,
"I'm having a hard time finding just the right 'him'.
"They all want a model with boobs that don't hang,
"A washboard stomach and a long golden mane.
"You're funny and sweet, but slightly plump
"I had to use 'turbo' to penetrate your rump.

"Are you saying I'm fat, you insensitive pest?
"Which coming from you meets an ironic best.
"You're nothing but blubber, chubby and round,
"Those wings barely keep you off of the ground.

He raised his bow, a fiery red in his eye,
I'd pushed too far, hurt his pride.
But he flew in a circle, one wing badly bent,
I ducked out of the way when an arrow he sent.
It hit the light socket, shooting sparks in his hair,

Startled, the cherub flew into the stairs.
He bounced off the railing, hit the banister post,
Ending prone of the rug, smelling a lot like burnt toast.
With the arrow from my butt I gingerly poked,
But he didn't move, just laid there and smoked.
I called 911 to report the break-in and assault,
Quickly dressed and rehearsed why this wasn't my fault.

Red and blue clashed against my sage green walls,
And dozens of officers filled my entry hall.
One noticed the arrow now glowing red hot,
And the Fire Department arrived on the spot.
I recalled my terrifying brush with death,
Noting most of them snickered under their breath.

The "murder of Love" was declared self defense,
No charges were filed, because nothing made sense.
Cupid suddenly vanished leaving no trace,
No bow, no arrow, nothing left in his place.
We all swore an oath we weren't losing out minds,
And the officers left, but one stayed behind.

"I hope you don't mind my asking so late,
"But would you consider being my Valentine date?
Cupid's arrow did more than just inflict strife,
It brought "him" to my doorstep and into my life.
I rubbed my backside, while nodding my head,
I had a date for Valentines and proof "Love" wasn't dead.

Happy Valentine's Day!

and 
"Designer Genes - The Boyfriend Cut" is FREE on Amazon Feb 14th-16th

[Repost] Twas Valentine's Eve...

Twas Valentine's Eve and I slumped in my chair,

No chocolates or roses, or man in my lair.

Cupid lay dead on the Persian rug in the hall

His bow to his side, an arrow stuck in my wall.

They'll think I did it, killed "Love" out of spite,

Single people everywhere will rally to fight.

The truth will stay hidden, I won't have my say,

They'll jump to conclusions and lock me away.

The pink cherub had it coming, arriving so late,

I waited all week for him to change my fate.

When he never showed, I surrendered my plight

All I wanted was a bath and to call it a night.

Surrounded in bubbles and candles aglow,

I resigned to my destiny at Cupid's no-show,

But when something downstairs made a thump and crash,

I jumped from the tub with nothing covering my ass.

I fumbled in darkness not wanting to be seen

For a gun, a bat, a weapon of means.

Soapy footprints marked my descent downstairs,

Without knowing I stood naked, in the crosshairs.

I screamed when the pain shot through my behind

And swung my bat fast, dazed out of my mind.

He squealed like a pig but my aim was too good,

His wings beat hard, but he still smacked the wood.

With arrow still dangling from one precious cheek,

I painfully scurried to save Love's little "geek."

No time for the lights when I saw my mistake,

But the comment he made determined his fate.

"Seriously, lady you should join a gym,

"I'm having a hard time finding just the right 'him'.

"They all want a model with boobs that don't hang,

"A washboard stomach and a long golden mane.

"You're funny and sweet, but slightly plump

"I had to use 'turbo' to penetrate your rump.

"Are you saying I'm fat, you insensitive pest?

"Which coming from you meets an ironic best.

"You're nothing but blubber, chubby and round,

"Those wings barely keep you off of the ground.

He raised his bow, a fiery red in his eye,

I'd pushed too far, hurt his pride.

But he flew in a circle, one wing badly bent,

I ducked out of the way when an arrow he sent.

It hit the light socket, shooting sparks in his hair,

Startled, the cherub flew into the stairs.

He bounced off the railing, hit the banister post,

Ending prone of the rug, smelling a lot like burnt toast.

With the arrow from my butt I gingerly poked,

But he didn't move, just laid there and smoked.

I called 911 to report the break-in and assault,

Quickly dressed and rehearsed why this wasn't my fault.

Red and blue clashed against my sage green walls,

And dozens of officers filled my entry hall.

One noticed the arrow now glowing red hot,

And the Fire Department arrived on the spot.

I recalled my terrifying brush with death,

Noting most of them snickered under their breath.

The "murder of Love" was declared self defense,

No charges were filed, because nothing made sense.

Cupid suddenly vanished leaving no trace,

No bow, no arrow, nothing left in his place.

We all swore an oath we weren't losing out minds,

And the officers left, but one stayed behind.

"I hope you don't mind my asking so late,

"But would you consider being my Valentine date?

Cupid's arrow did more than just inflict strife,

It brought "him" to my doorstep and into my life.

I rubbed my backside, while nodding my head,

I had a date for Valentines and proof "Love" wasn't dead.

Happy Valentines Day

Forever and Always...

Listening to:  "Made for You" courtesy of One Republic

He stood at the end of the aisle, hands folded behind his back, nervously shifting on his feet. His hazel eyes scanned the room, his jaw feverishly chomping on a piece of imaginary gum, which made me giggle. I'd watched his mother walk up to him and put her hand out, making him take it out a few minutes ago. He appeared nervous, uncertain...the same as me.

Smoothing my chiffon dress, I pulled the lace edge veil slightly over my shoulders. I didn't want it covering my face as tradition dictated. Several nightmarish scenarios played through my overactive imagination where the veil would catch on my dad's cuff link when he lifted it, or the headpiece would slip off during the orchestrated moment, ruining my hair. Or the fabric would tickle my nose and I'd sneeze...

The first step was the hardest. Remembering to smile, hoping no one noticed the slight trembling of my body or the bouquet shaking in my hand. I grasped my dad's arm so tight, I'm sure it felt numb by the third step. Ahead, a brilliant sunset slipped away on the western horizon, spreading golden fingers of light across the wall of windows I walked toward. The closer I got to the gorgeous heartthrob, still chomping, I noticed how the glow of the amber backdrop created a halo effect around his head, outlining each sandy curl. 

My angel--sent to me in a time of my life when I desperately needed a lifeline. Just didn't know my prayer would be answered in the form of a stranger who asked to borrow my binoculars at a Doobie Brother's concert. Four months later he returned the favor by dropping on one knee with a diamond ring and a promise to love me forever. Or at least try. 

I don't remember the ceremony, just the way we looked at each other, silly grins painfully pressing between our cheeks, and the kiss afterwards. A kiss filled with urgency, fear, excitement, and knowledge that we were embarking on a lifelong adventure, having no clue how to proceed...beyond the honeymoon (that we had figured out).  No instructions, or road map to follow. 

Marriage is truly based on blind love and guided by the heart. Each one is like a snowflake - original in design and equally fragile. There's no warranty, certainly no easy exchanges, nor a guarantee attached to that first kiss full of promise that you'll have a happy ending. You only have "hope" to rely on, besides each other. I'm one of the lucky ones who managed to give "hope" a good beating, but held tight to the belief everything would work out despite the obstacles that seemed to constantly bombard us. Every time we survived one, our relationship grew stronger, along with our respect for each other.

All these years later, after several buckets of tears have been shed through love, laughter, and heartbreak, he's still borrowing my binoculars. The sandy curls have turned turned gray and thinned, the deep "V" from broad shoulders to a "six-pack" waist has squared, and the gait a bit slower with less sway. But those hazel eyes still glitter, the playful smile deepening the crinkles at the corner of the eyes still hiding mischief, and the hands have remained strong...the arms comforting. When I snuggle into him at the end of the day, butterflies still flutter in my stomach and I giggle to myself as if I was twenty again...sleeping with my boyfriend.

Thirty-six years ago today, I married my best friend, with dreams of romance and endless possibilities for happiness. Thirty-six years later, I understand the meaning of true love...what real "romance" feels like, and the realization that "happiness" sometimes comes after paying a hefty price. I'm older, wiser, bolder, and still in love with my boyfriend.

I'm sharing a link to a darling video that makes me cry every time I watch - sweet and romantic...enjoy! (hope one or the other works!)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Su1YLAjty-U&feature=youtu.be

http://youtu.be/Su1YLAjty-U

CUPID'S ARROW - LOVE OR JUST A WOUNDED HEART?

Current Listen:  Exit Wounds courtesy of The Script

VALENTINE'S DAY.  A day we celebrate "Love." Red roses, dark silk chocolates in glittery red heart boxes, and expensive cards filled with someone else's words...not ours. Oh we sign the card, but how many of us "writers" write our cards?

Remember elementary school and homemade "valentines" we created because we had no money to buy them? I'm guessing a lot of mother's have a shoebox in the closet or in the cedar chest, full of misshapen hearts with little one's terms of endearment. So what happened in between? We write hundreds of pages of romantic scenes and lip blossoming kisses, but rush right out and buy Hallmark's best, instead of writing our own. I must confess. My store bought greeting card is tucked inside the nightstand drawer awaiting Monday.

Below, in case I've guilted you into creating  your own romantic token but you suffer writers' block, are enlightening sayings written by my favorite (and non-liable) author:  "Anonymous."

"Once in awhile, right in the middle of an ordinary life, love gives us a fairy tale."

"My love for you is a journey; Starting at forever and ending at never."


"I tell you I love you every day for fear that tomorrow isn't another."

"The most eloquent silence is that of two mouths meeting in a kiss."

"No three words have greater power than 'I Love You'. "

Now let's talk about the "Valentine Gift." Here's where I get to have fun, and if my "peeve" is your "preference," please don't be offended. My intention is lighten not darken.

Pet peeves: 
1.  Heart shaped jewelry. Seriously. Are you really going to wear it after Valentines Day? Maybe if it's crusted in several carats of diamonds, big enough to look tacky and heavy enough to strangle. Then yes. By all means, "surprise" me.

2.   Sexy lace "teddys." For you. Right. It's like I want to say "Oh honey! How did you know I was dying to wear sheer red lace over my pasty white body (it's winter for heaven's sake) so my cellulite thighs can be enhanced by that comfortable piece of satin dental floss tucked between my dimpled 'cheeks'?" Pass me the grenade, but keep the pin.

4.  Stuffed animals. Loved them when I was fifteen; the first token of love from my pimply faced boyfriend whose voice was higher than mine. Smiled affectionately at sixteen because my boyfriend had a part-time job or bigger allowance so the fluffy gift was at least larger. At seventeen, my teeth ground together, knowing my boyfriend had put enough thought into finding the last one tucked on the shelf, that he forgot to remove the tag on his way over to pick me up for our date. At eighteen, a stuffed animal meant "something more" and was usually holding another "teddy." It was also a "parting gift."

Favs:
1.  Roses. Always a safe bet. While red roses are traditional, yellow roses call to my playful side and brighten any spot they're placed.

2.  Diamond rings. The larger the better. Need I say more? (Cupid will be greatly rewarded .)

3.  Dinner out and a romantic movie with a bucket of popcorn and a large bag of M&M's. (Cupid will get "lucky" later.)

4.  Shopping for clothing (other than lingerie) or furniture, without gasping for air or clutching a heart when the final tally is rang up. (Yep, a guaranteed "happy ending.")

5.  Hire me a weekly housekeeper. (Cupid will be horizontal for as long as that service is employed.)

But in the end, whatever my Cupid decides to do in my honor, I'll be thrilled with. Yes, even a lace teddy. A sense of humor is essential in a relationship, and me wearing one of Victoria's "secrets" will generate a gut busting laugh for sure! In the end all that matters is that he still considers me his "Valentine."

Love expressed in any manner, said in any language, and felt inside your heart, is wonderful. Hope your Valentines Day leaves a romantic memory that brings a private smile to your lips when it passes through your thoughts later.  Here's to a "hole in your heart" from Cupid's arrow. 

Thanks for spending a few moments. Harley Brooks, the lust crazed hopeless romantic stuck inside Joelene's head.

Thought for today:  You have to give "love" to receive "love." Pay it forward.