|
Hello, friends. Things are looking a little brighter for our dear ones, and, although there is still quite a lot of uncertainty, which will probably remain in the horizon, on both sides of the Atlantic ocean, for several days or even weeks to come, we are considering the latest developments from a positive perspective – and that makes us feel better, too! This awareness that even bitter fruits delivered from the tree of life do not have to make us believe that all life is actually bitter, somehow inspired this… segment of a poem, which I hope you may enjoy in its perception of subliminal sweetness. As I’m able, I’ll be returning to your very deeply cherished company – and, even during those segments of distance, I’ll be holding you all in my warmest thoughts… and {{{{{{{{{{{hugs}}}}}}}}}}}}}}, with love.
(Art by Franz Heigl)
|
A segment of lemons – a poem in love
It is not of love. It is in love - and being shaded like the ashen darkest green of leaves in lemon trees does not make it less so. See, it is in love. And the scent, in the hands, of unmistakable lemons, derives not from holding bitterness, but rather, from this perception that, in love, the subliminal taste is sweet - no matter the fruit. It is not of love. It is in love, and there are no elaborate metaphors being held within pale yellow peels. We know, as we gather them with other fruits – simply lemons, by nature bitter, so what? It is not of love. It is to sit in love at a shared table and to hold hands – scented of lemons picked from a ground naturally shaded by the ashen, darkest green of leaves in lemon trees. And not being less so – unmistakably in love – because this segment of a poem came to be just one of… lemons, with this perception of subliminal sweetness, and not of love.
© 2007 Alexandra* ~ OneLight*®
|
|
OneLight*® Authors
|
Want to review or comment on this
poem?
Click here to login!
Need a FREE Reader Membership?
Click here for your Membership!
|
| Reviewed by Joseph* OneLight*® |
2/23/2007 |
|
Xandinha, meu Amor,
It is your love that transforms the bitter into sweet so that we may
"sit in love at a shared table and to hold hands –" It is in this holding of hands that we are able to strengthen each other.
Muitos Beijinhos,
Teu Joseph |
|
|
|
|
| Reviewed by Mitzi Jackson |
2/22/2007 |
|
and this poem is in light that you took the time to share
beautiful picture
and this in itself holds all the well wishes one could bare
truly beautiful and heartfelt |
|
|
|
|
| Reviewed by Jorge Vicente |
2/21/2007 |
|
a poem truly in love, dear Alexandra.
Thank you for sharing, my dear friend
Jorge |
|
|
|
|
| Reviewed by Paul Berube |
2/20/2007 |
|
Alexandra,
A beautiful poem for one who loves lemons. The tartness erases the feelings of any impurities. |
|
|
|
|
| Reviewed by Kimmy Van Kooten |
2/20/2007 |
|
A Segment of Lemons...truly is a masterpiece!
The lemon never told me her love...
I feel your thoughts on this one Alexandra...and within the sad, patience on high, you can still smile!
God Bless you and keep you...as I sit in continued prayer, on that same high!
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
|
|
|
|
|
| Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner |
2/20/2007 |
|
Alexandra,
You took lemons and made something sweet out of the sourness, the bitterness, the uncertainty, and made it beautiful. Thank you! One of your best. Still in prayer--
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. |
|
|
|
|
| Reviewed by richard cederberg |
2/20/2007 |
|
Cause and effect. It always amazes me dear Alexandra what the stimuli coming into us will do to enrich us and change us. Your ability to percieve the "layers" around you is stunning. I hope that you are well.
Light and Wisdom ... |
|
|
|
|
| Reviewed by Michael Mathieu |
2/20/2007 |
|
Sit and smell the roses as true love has a delicious smell and taste,Don't judge a fruit by it's cover...
Loved it,
Michael |
|
|
|
|
| Reviewed by Felix Perry |
2/20/2007 |
|
Nothing at all sour about this work of art as the perceptions of not love trigger the heart to automatically jump to the conclusions that love is immersed in each and every line of this work. Love it.
Fee |
|
|
|
|