Samantha Beardon's Blog, page 50

Internet Relationships… What is real.

What is real and what is dream

Hard to tell with you it seems

What is real when all you know

Is second hand, a major blow

What is real, when all you share

Is part  of your  life, but, is reality there?

What is real , is the friendship case

Knowing at some point, we touch base

What is real is humour and fun

Sharing  moments one by one

What is real is a ripple in my life

Changing my boundaries, making me thrive

What is real is a lack of insight

Things that I share, are they recieved right

What is real is the way to know

What you are saying, when it feels like a blow

What is real is the need to believe we are 

friends indeed

What is real are our different lives

But thats just fine that makes us wise

What is real is our different take

On lifes problems our views on fate

What is real is the spark that we get

Chasing new knowledge when we’ve never met

Going sane

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Quote Bruce Lee

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For You

Feelings

For You

Just get better

Love

Longing strong

Red letter day

Friendship

Firmly Grasped

Strong bonds stay

Partnership

Particular trust

Together we should stay

Coup de Foudre.

The coup de foudre when it comes

Often has a roll of drums

What sparks the action, who can tell

Lust and hormones can cause hell

The gentle meeting of two minds

Interests that mean, you are two of a kind

The lightening strikes, the need to touch

Desolation, when apart, can be too much

The need to eat each other alive

Without the other you can’t survive

But will it last and stay the course

Or will love die and cause divorce?

The coup de foudre doesn’t stay

When lust has waned it goes away

Then the work is on to build

A strong relationship, become more skilled

Alternatively the relationship dies

Too little in common, no stars in the eyes

The coup de foudre is an amazing thing

Nothing is quite like it for creating a zing.

Shared from WordPress

The Hall of Mirrors – http://wp.me/p7Yn8w-f

Trust

What we need is the fluidity if trust

Not reinforced concrete, with bars that rust

Trust, that our partner will do the right thing

Not constrained by our moral compass, expectations with a sting

Love is being given the space to grow

Support and caring , without the rigidity, of the under tow 

In life there will always be hurt, often unintentional

Its how we deal with the issues, we need to learn, unconventional

Can we ever learn, to make our relationships zing

Growing the good, deflecting the sting

We need to learn the lessons from yesterday

Modify our own responses to the issues at play

Do we find out to late, the relationship could have been good

It was our actions and inactions, that made it into splinters of wood.

 

Loves changing form.

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My internal monologue

My internal monologue is mine alone

Some of it hidden, like a dog hides a bone

Some of it’s shared with those I love

But those darker thoughts, are shoved

Into minds recesses, shrouded and clothed.

Sometimes my monologue, shows in my face

Irritation, impatience mirror my distaste

I am adept at hiding , some of my feelings

Looking serene when the mind is reeling

My internal monologue is mine alone.

Some people think they can predict my moves

My reactions transparent, well oiled groves

They don’t understand, when my choice is askew

When I take an altogether, alternative view   

My internal monologue is mine alone.

Is there always, a part hidden away?

Ideas, memories, beliefs, that hold sway

Those deepest doubts, the darkest fears

The naughty needs, the mental scar, opinion drear

My internal monologue affects the personae I present.

My internal monalogue

My internal monalogue is mine alone

Some of it hidden, like a dog hides a bone

Some of it’s shared with those I love

But those darker thoughts, are shoved

Into minds recesses, shrouded and clothed.

Sometimes my monologue, shows in my face

Irritation, impatience mirror my distaste

I am adept at hiding , some of my feelings

Looking serene when the mind is reeling

My internal monalogue is mine alone.

Some people think they can predict my moves

My reactions transparent, well oiled groves

They don’t understand, when my choice is askew

When I take an altogether, alternative view   

My internal monalogue is mine alone.

Is there always, a part hidden away?

Ideas, memories, beliefs, that hold sway

Those deepest doubts, the darkest fears

The naughty needs, the mental scar, opinion drear

My internal monalogue affects the personae I present.