Old Movies & Saturday Nights!

Old Movies & Saturday Nights!
Mike and I have been getting one good old movie a week, usually on Saturday night, to watch, sometimes it is better to see a movie years later, than dead on the spot, so last night was “Field of Dreams, perfect for a mid-summer movie, yeah, we both cried and awwwed over some of the scenes we had forgotten.
Ever get that feeling of nostalgia during different months, like summer? I usually have a lot (I repeat, a LOT) of free time on my hands during the summer months, so I tend to catch up on a lot of things (games, movies, TV shows, etc) that I was too busy to enjoy earlier. And this last year, it has been great doing all that catching up with Mike home, we have grown in new ways, closer somehow, new to us and each other, better, more grounded, centered, for summer months bring out the best in me, I like that.
Kind of a random way I wanted to end this month’s posts by pointing out that with the nice weather, comes lots of nostalgia. I never realized this until I pointed it out to my husband a while ago, but during the summer, I get this nostalgic feeling, and I want to go back, view old movies, sit to talk about our childhoods, another aspect of us getting to know each other better after ten years. It didn’t really hit me this summer, and today, here is Alberta , is was a surprisingly nice day. And something about it just made me…happy, and as I said, nostalgic.

I like that feeling that overcomes me from random thoughts, good conversations, old books, a good movie….. Life is blessed and I am really enjoying it, living it and loving each day as it comes.

I am Viesta, I am out

I search the internet and found old verses of me

Mimesis of face

I met a woman in a field
Sunshine teasing through thin fabrics
as long spnindles of rays hit under her
flowing skirt, she was slapping me as she
spun in the gold gleam of her inhibited smile,
she made love to the sun in that field, with the
warm rays that followed her, the shadows made
way for her as she was the idle of all that was,
with regard to her foot steps, I viewed her, watching
her in the sun, playing with the freedom of all she
was, I stayed in watch for I became entrenched with
her semblance, not seeing me, she was barefoot, passing
the time with her hand made songs, trampling down on
weeds, the tiny blades of grass, her footsteps soon became
leaps, as she made her way to the edge of waters winding
along the fields, my eyes followed, all too soon, her form
departed my sight behind the bushes of the water's banks,
making my way to the water, I searched the scene, playing it
again in my head, where had she gone, I wondered, then looking
into the smooth liquds, I found her again, looking down into the
mirror of the river, she smiled back at me, She was me~

Viesta

Untitled

I always said it was the perfect end,
the only way to go,
never fade away,
no, I'lll never fade away,
I said I will just burn out,
and that's just what I'll do one day soon,
no one will miss what I was after a time,
I'll be stored in memeory, with time and
the passing seemly easier for those that live on,
for I always said it was the perfect way to go,
to die with pride,
to die so good about who I was, what I left,
to live it up fast, not wasting a minute,
to then make my escape,
from the urgency of too many faces,
save myself the grief,
everything else can go to hell,
it doesn't matter anyway,
I'll go out with a bang,"
and that's what just I will do one day soon~

Viesta

Raft

In my moonlit dreams I swam across the crystal mirror
To a sad country beyond
Made of rain and silence and
Empty fields of broken shades
Where dark trees arcade the stars
As comets discard the black night's reveries.
Toward the harbor of shadows
The curling sky arches over faded statues
At the end of the sea.
Here our pulses slow, mesmerized by beautiful collapse,
And the lonely outlines of an isolated home,
An island of ghosts and unwritten request,
and in this island of love I see, I feel,
a new beginning, stray from the past,
as the twilight of our days together,
re-fresh us, we begin in *Us* anew,
our eyes excelled the morning sun
Your smile laden my breast with flame
I'll boast upon that lilting sun
Your beauty worthy of a name
O what shall I give but a song
A song to sing my love for you
A song to time and space belong
Until the world is born anew

Viesta

Oh the Man and His Pleasures

Push apart your white legs.
Let my eyes see
those rapacious followings of
roaming aisles
of the world's
best candy shop,
and creep,
a little guilty,
up to the gumdrop counter
past where your stockings end.

Let me ponder
the shape of paradise,
a philosopher
discovering anew,
the sleek truth,
that the universe
is made of water.

I want to marvel
at the soft hair
that frames
your hemmed mouth--
mouse-brown moss
from a marble cave.

Part further,
and I'll watch breathless
how your lily opens,
greeting warm rain
and my nectar-seeking look.

And please, crest
of vanilla skin,
show me that small, smooth
stone of pleasure
that hides
your overwhelming secret--
the reflex arc of heaven.

Viesta

Fragments of a Woman's Disorder~

Abiding in a lonely reality
towers of flesh mount on me,
fill the shimmer of praise for a woman,
with her pumping blood.

And I quake at the need of a man~
See in me this land of fools

that heat my soul, with touch of a hand,
bleeding gums swell in my mouth's own juice,
I, the slave to a fragile requisite of pledges

And I shake at the want of man's touch~

Patheic, be the name of a woman,
who longs for love when only lust
exsist in the heart, it is not destiny in a hauntued
face to feel that glorious momentum of climax

And I break knowing I am a fugitive in man's dark night~

Viesta
'


Feather in Me

Feather of my yearning for life,
feather of my vain desire
to grind the mist with frivolous laughter at the sun,
feather of my longing for embraces
that fill the night with hushed tones,
feather of peace that listens to star-lit whispers
and echos them back to a tender heart of need,

I am the feather that will float in a breeze, carried
away to awaken in your slow decay
and return to the place of dreams,
to the skies of no boundaries or recalling of time,
by silently absorbing the impacts of harsh expressions
As I, the feather will find other meaningless destinations
to abide, weightless, waiting to be carried away in a
current

Viesta