Tumblr

I've been absent from tumblr for a long while, however I recently returned to it, to my own little corner of the tumblr world.

There are so many pictures that just create such beautiful visions, beautiful images, ones which beyond the typical porn and stereotypical Femdom images can really show such beauty in submission and in pain.

But for me, the beauty right now is in the words, there are some fabulous tumblr accounts where the words are just stunningly beautiful, words that touch, that seep into your soul.  There are words that people just have such a gift in sharing that when you read, they seem to reflect your thoughts, or how you feel in that moment. 

I led there for hours last night, not able to sleep, reading these beautiful words, some of them haunting, taunting, but some of them reflecting lots of the things that I'm feeling right now, words that reflect some recent things that have happened in life. 

Some people are blessed with a truly wonderful gift of being able to write, to express.  I am quite simply in awe at times of people who have that ability, of being able to touch someone with words, it's such an intimate thing to be able to do, it's a beautiful thing to be able to do.

I wish I shared that ability.  Words are a beautiful thing.

A gift of words

"Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and its thought has found its words" Robert Frost.

I love words! 

Reading them, writing them, hearing them, sharing them.  There is a beauty in how they can create such wonderful images, that they can create a vision that brings those words to life. 

I love them to flood the senses, touch the heart and trickle to the soul

I'm a word whore.

I can't get enough of them.

But, I had a truly wonderful present recently - a rather wonderful gift of words, something written, something sent to me, for me. 

A poem. 

And I loved it. 

And while I am not going to share it here, I just love how when you read something, as you see the words before you that they reach out, touch you, touch the heart, flood the mind.

And it was that and more. A whole lot more!

And I love it. 

The gift, the words, the gift of those words and that someone has such a wonderful gift and shared that gift with me is something quite lovely and it plunges in and warms the heart.  There is something quite special, that someone takes that time, that thought to send such a wonderful present. 

I've been touched by words, and in several ways recently, left lost for words of my own in response (quite a rare thing for me yanno?) but, sometimes it does happen. 

But that's the beauty of words.

And I love them. 

Words

Discharge your words

before my eyes.

Slowly trickle them

toward my ears, 
let them

gently flow 

into my heart.

Flood my soul

with your words

of truth.  Fuelling

fires in depths,

taking away 

my breath.

Empty out the

ocean of thoughts

that fills your mind,

your heart, your soul,

with things

not yet spoken.

Release the

floodgates of words,

of depth and of you.

Let them flow

over me, into me.

Flood me. Engulf me.

Mouthful of forevers

 

I am not the first person you loved.
You are not the first person I looked at
with a mouthful of forevers. We
have both known loss like the sharp edges
of a knife. We have both lived with lips
more scar tissue than skin. Our love came
unannounced in the middle of the night.
Our love came when we’d given up
on asking love to come. I think
that has to be part
of its miracle.
This is how we heal.
I will kiss you like forgiveness. You
will hold me like I’m hope. Our arms
will bandage and we will press promises
between us like flowers in a book.
I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat
on your skin. I will write novels to the scar
of your nose. I will write a dictionary
of all the words I have used trying
to describe the way it feels to have finally,
finally found you.
And I will not be afraid
of your scars.
I know sometimes
it’s still hard to let me see you
in all your cracked perfection,
but please know:
whether it’s the days you burn
more brilliant than the sun
or the nights you collapse into my lap
your body broken into a thousand questions,
you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I will love you when you are a still day.
I will love you when you are a hurricane.

— Clementine von Radics, “Mouthful of Forever”


Just because.

*sigh*

Blossom

I want to write. I need to write.  I've not done a great deal of it of late. I've gotten a few words down recently, but it's not how I want the words to flow, to be released, to be.

And it is frustrating.

I want the words to come, floating like the blossom that is falling from the trees. And they don't.

And I think of you. And how you left on the same breeze, fading into the distance, like the blossom blown away and never to return.  Now I know why they name hurricanes. They leave their mark, their name. Their force and strength.

I wonder what we would have named you.

 

Aristophanes in Plato's symposium

It is amazing the things we come across when insomnia hits.

I have a book to read and yet, neither my mind or eyes could focus on it.  I don't know if I will be able to.  At least not for a while at least. So I will place it onto the bookshelf until the time may come that I will re-open its covers.

Instead in the depths of the early hours, I have just read a translation of Aristophanes speech in Plato's symposium. Within it, there is such simple beauty, reflecting the naïve hope that we, each "find" our other half, their discussion upon their thoughts of "love".

There is one particular part of his speech, where the words have such simple beauty within them, yet they are words that reflect that naïve hope . . .perhaps the thing that we hope to "find", in whatever way, or wherever we may seek it . . .is it a naïve hope?


"And when one of them meets with his other half, the actual half of himself, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another sort, the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy, and would not be out of the other's sight, as I may say, even for a moment: these are the people who pass their whole lives together; yet they could not explain what they desire of one another. For the intense yearning which each of them has towards the other does not appear to be the desire of lover's intercourse, but of something else which the soul of either evidently desires and cannot tell.."

Sometimes words from others have such simplicity, yet, can hold such depth, such meaning such truth . . words which can at times touch, right through to leaving one breathless.

Maybe it is a naïve hope.

Things happen which give us hope that we may one day find what it is that we may seek, the thing that we may hope to find.  And hope can be dashed, it can be trampled and crushed and discarded.  Maybe we looked in the wrong place.  Maybe we are looking for something that isn't ultimately possible to find.  Maybe it just isn't. 

Risk

"Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go"

T.S. Elliot

True.

So very true.

It isn't easy to take risks.  But if we don't put ourselves out there, if we don't take them, we will not only never know how far we can go, we will never get how far we want to go.

Flowing juices

For the first time in a long time, the juices have begun to flow.

Flowing freely in a way they haven't done for a while.

I've missed it.  I've missed the feelings that I get from it, the way it feels when they flow and how when it does, it takes every thought, feeling and emotion with it . . .

It really has been a long time.  It feels even longer. I've battled with the lack of it all.  I've sat here, tried to get the juices flowing once more but it is like being in a drought. 

Nothing. No-one. Has been able to make them flow.

But thankfully . . they are beginning to flow again . .

How thankful I am to see my creative juices.  How relieved I am as I start to write. As the words start flowing freely, without thought, without force, it is a relief.

If only when they are overflowing I could bottle them up and keep them for the times that I hit that block, that barrier. It is frustrating when I want to write but it just doesn't happen.  I hate it even more so when it happens when I am beginning to write something that I really want to write.

The book.

Started. Block.

Unfinished.

I wonder if I will ever get back to being able to write. To being able to finish it.  If I could bottle up those creative juices, I could take the top off and let them flow when the barriers block my way.

I hate it when a complete stop is placed on those creative juices, when they stop flowing. Something, or someone blocks those thoughts, and there they remain on hold, until something, or someone, opens the floodgates once more.

I want to write.  I need to write. I love words and the images they create. The feelings they bring, the emotions they can express.

Word Whore.

I need a lot of things right now as I am beginning to discover, it is like the floodgates to a whole host of things have been opened.  The beast prowls. The flame is burning. 

I need.

word cloud

Have just spent some time helping mini man with his homework this evening, and we decided to do something different for his literacy and ventured into doing a word cloud for the subject he is studying.  It led me to do a wordcloud for my blog  . . .as a person who loves words, love how they form and sound, the feelings and emotions behind them, it was interesting to see the word cloud that came from my blog here . . .

It did make me smile the words that stood out more than the others . . .

Good fun these word clouds lol

Haiku

I love to write, whether it be recollections, creative, poetry or simply an expression of inner thoughts and feelings. 

But, when I write, the words tend to flow, I rarely have to sit and struggle for those words to come. Yes I occasionally have a "block" but that tends to be on writing as a whole rather than on a specific piece of writing.  Which is what I have at the moment due to life being so chaotically busy!

In recent weeks however, I have taken an interest in Haiku ~ more so Haiku in English as explained in wiki HERE (now I don't normally like wiki, but it explains it pretty well) but writing in such limited words, such defined patterns seems so limited to me, probably because I am so used to having the freedom to write, to express whatever I wanted, how I wanted and having the control to do so. (Yes even writing comes down to control lol)  So, having a limit placed upon myself by the confines Haiku, makes it a form of writing that isn't or doesn't come naturally to me. 

But even in such limited words, some examples of Haiku in English I have read say so much, they create an image, a picture, a vision, they bring feeling, emotion, thought.  They bring food for thought, creating a whole host of images that can lead to so much more, all from 17 syllables.

You would think it was easy right?

But, it is in fact quite hard to do when you first try to write, limiting to 17 syllables (in English Haiku that is, as traditional is very different), but trying to make the words, to give them a meaning and to give them feeling within those limited words isn't easy. 

It is a challenge . . .and I like a challenge *grins*

I am going to "dabble" in trying to write, to create in Haiku in English, something else to get the creative juices flowing and am going to include them here in my blog, a lot I am sure will be related to Ds, to FLRs, to the things that are close to my heart.

But lets get started . . .

Words to express so

much in so little

is not easy to achieve.

Looking into your eyes

takes me into the depths

of your soul and you.

My heart beats

in erratic rhythm and passion

 as it longs for you. 



Patient

I am extraordinarily patient, provided I get my own way in the end.

Margaret Thatcher





*smiles*

Beautiful Pain . . .

"Behind every beautiful thing, there's some kind of pain."
Bob Dylan

And when I look at this picture,

I see the beauty. I feel the beauty.

It gives me goosebumps.

It is beautiful.

Paradox

Domination/submission is filled with similar paradox’s.

Such as Pain/pleasure.

Enslavement/freedom.

A circular and connected balance to exist between apparent opposites.

*unknown*

Foot whore!

I love words.

In reading. In writing.

In hearing. In speaking.

In blogging.

I need words.

I am a word whore!



I like to include definitions within some of my writings. 

It gives a basis to start from, it gives food for thought.  So, I was looking today for a word with a definition of someone who loves attention, of someone who loves to be worshipped as I wanted to include such a formal word and definition in my blog.

The thesaurus had nothing.

Nothing apart from where someone had asked

"I need some words for someone who :  "Loves being given attention" "wants to be worshipped""

First words that sprung to my mind?

Me.

Others? Dominant. Female. Domme. Me!

The replies that people had responded with went across the board, everything from ego-centric to narcisstic, to needy, to self-centred.

But none of the words fitted, none of them had fitted the description of what the person was searching for.

Then one man had responded

 

"Female"

It made me smile.

The response I thought quite likely from someone submissive. Someone who knows what it is like to worship.

Someone who knows what it is to give real attention and all that can mean.  Someone however, commented about how wrong he was with his reply.
But he later responded with this:

"Show me a woman who doesn't love being given attention or who doesn't expect to be appreciated and I'll show you a woman who is going to be in bad relationships. As for worshipping, a little goes a very long way.

If men willingly gave more appreciation and attention instead of competition, relationships would last much longer."

Again he had made me smile. 

He got it.   He knew just what the "meaning" was even without the right word or definition.

Someone later went on to say

"I prefer the use of a non pc word "attention whore""

Not whore in the correct sense of the words of course, or with the correct definition.  But it fits ya'know.

It does describe it so very well.

So, I am female.

I am an attention whore.

I LOVE having my feet "worshipped".

And I do not mean just licked and sucked.

There is SO much more to it than that!

I love having them washed, soaped, dried. I love having them rubbed, pumiced, moisturised.

I love having them tended to, massaged, touched, gently scratched.

I can sit there for hours having my feet attended to.

They love the attention.

My feet are attention whores!

I love the attention they get, and I know that from a sub's point of view that it can be one of the wonderful acts of service, one which they gain pleasure in doing, knowing how much they have pleased the Dominant.

It is one of the basic acts of service, but one which can show much attention, much devotion, much love.

I love it.

I miss it.

And my feet are feeling ULTRA neglected.

It has been such a long time since they have received such wonderful attention.

And at the end of a very long week like this one has been, it would just be the perfect way to end the week.

And my god, how they would love such attention right now.

How wonderful it would be, to have my feet taken into a lap, to have any polish removed and then to have them gently washed in a bowl of warm water, gently scented, maybe even bubbles, oils or even petals.

And once they have been cleansed and allowed a leisurely soak for a while, to then have them taken out, gently placed on a warm fluffy towel.  Each foot then taken in turn, gently rubbed with a pumice to remove any hardness and leaving them so very soft to the touch. 

And then get rid of the traces of pumice and skin, to soak them further.  More warm scented water, feet allowed to soak while being gently rubbed while in the water.
The water being constantly topped up to make sure it remains warm.

Then, loving removed, placed on another warm fluffy towel to be patted dry. Followed by a lovely, long gentle foot massage with oils and lotions.  With more pressure just in the right places.

Around the heel, the balls of the feet, attention to each individual toe, across the top of the foot and around the ankle. Between each toe. No spot left untouched or unattended.

Then, for the nails to be freshly painted, making sure there isn't any on the surrounding skin. 

A couple of layers with plenty of time for them to dry in between time. 

And then, when they are cleansed, massaged and painted and then to shower them with even more love and attention.

*sigh*

Foot worship isn't about licking, kissing or sucking.

Hell no.

It is SO much more.

And my god it would be just bliss right now.

I miss that.

My feet are attention whores!!