Tag Archives: Love story

Haiku Friday –– Love Story

22 Jan

Hello and welcome to Haiku Friday! It’s great to have visitors. I hope you enjoy!

 

i_lost_my_hope_along_the_way_by_ilojleen-d66ek2v

I Lost My Hope Along The Way by Ilojleen on DeviantART “The depicted girl is the beautiful Cristina Otero. Anyway, although it’s not my face here, the portrait symbolizes all the seriously bad and sad experiences I’ve been through since last year. If someone thinks, ‘I didn’t notice any change in your behaviour’… well, I’m good at keeping up appearances.” ~Dominika (ilojleen on DeviantART)

 ♥

Love Story

by Vashti Quiroz-Vega

All consuming pain

A hundred Bullet Ants sting

How losing you feels

bullet ants-pain-vashti-quiroz-vega-blog

Bullet Ant – Click the picture to watch a YouTube video A man bitten by one of these. The worst pain known to man

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Wedding Bliss

by Vashti Quiroz-Vega

Whirling through the air

Nuptial flight to test true love

A courageous heart

gallup.d-Vertigo - Whirling Bald Eagles Over Santa Cruz Island

Have a great Valentine’s Day weekend everyone!

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Lyrical

2 Oct

Lyrics

Hello wonderful people! Welcome to my blog. Today I would like to share one of my favorite songs by the singer/songwriter Bruno Mars. It’s called “When I Was Your Man” and it’s one of those songs that grip your heart, not just with its melody,  but with the lyrics as well. It’s a romantic and dulcet soul/pop piano ballad about a pre-fame heartbreak. Most of us have that one man or woman we let get away. He regrets the way he treated her and sincerely wishes that her new man treat her the way she deserves to be treated. Well, read the lyrics, which is poetry set to music (my opinion), and then listen and watch Bruno’s performance. If you’re not sitting dreamy thinking of a lost love by the end of this, then I don’t know what to tell you. ;D  Enjoy!

“When I Was Your Man”

Same bed but it feels just a little bit bigger now
Our song on the radio but it don’t sound the same
When our friends talk about you, all it does is just tear me down
‘Cause my heart breaks a little when I hear your name

It all just sounds like oooooh…
Mmm, too young, too dumb to realize
That I should’ve bought you flowers
And held your hand
Should’ve gave you all my hours
When I had the chance
Take you to every party
‘Cause all you wanted to do was dance
Now my baby’s dancing
But she’s dancing with another man

My pride, my ego, my needs, and my selfish ways
Caused a good strong woman like you to walk out my life
Now I never, never get to clean up the mess I made, ohh…
And it haunts me every time I close my eyes

It all just sounds like oooooh…
Mmm, too young, too dumb to realize
That I should’ve have bought you flowers
And held your hand
Should’ve gave you all my hours
When I had the chance
Take you to every party
‘Cause all you wanted to do was dance
Now my baby’s dancing
But she’s dancing with another man

Although it hurts
I’ll be the first to say that I was wrong
Oh, I know I’m probably much too late
To try and apologize for my mistakes
But I just want you to know

I hope he buys you flowers
I hope he holds your hand
Give you all his hours
When he has the chance
Take you to every party
‘Cause I remember how much you loved to dance
Do all the things I should have done
When I was your man
Do all the things I should have done
When I was your man

bruno-mars

Bruno-Mars-Vashti Quiroz-Vega's Blog

Do you regret someone you let get away?

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Beautiful Poems

1 Sep
The Butchering Goddess

Lilith by Samantha Meglioli (deviantART)

Hello! Welcome to my blog. My name is Vashti for those of you that do not know me. I love art, creativity and beauty, and I know these come in many forms. In my quest to build my author platform I have met and befriended a group of incredibly talented individuals. Writers, poets, artists and even singers who are masterful at what they do. I feel blessed to have found them and I would be selfish if I kept the beauty, artistry and creativeness of their craft all to myself.
So from time to time I will be featuring art, writings and music along with my own work on this blog. I guarantee you will enjoy every bit of it.
In today’s post I will feature a very talented poet Dr. Archit Srivastava. The two poems featured here are powerful and will enthrall you. They are saturated in beauty and intensity. They become more pleasing every time you read them. Dr. Srivastava writes with the pen name Archwordsmith, he began writing at the tender age of ten, and is currently single.

Vashti Quiroz-Vega's Blog

Dr. Archit Srivastava

Dr. Archit Srivastava –

“I am a doctor by profession, still fresh in this field and a poet by
heart. I easily get affected by the ills of society and pour out my
empathy in form of words. I believe that poetry isn’t mere rhyming of
words but an energy with infinite potential to change this world.”

The butchering goddess

She stared at her womb,
Eyes greedy; gleaming,
A smile she offered,
Inside joyously screaming,
Gleefully motioned,
To the opposite chair,
The father apprehensive,
Mother in morbid fear,
She was now a master,
She read them well,
Mind wandering to greens,
Dreamt her fortunes swell,
He spoke in hushes,
She responded in affirmation,
Planned together,
A heinous operation,
She worked out a deal,
Like a vegetable vendor,
Smiled in hell, the Satan,
As her soul surrendered,
Reached they an agreement,
The doomsday was set,
Her thirst for the blood,
Drowned her regret.

Came the day of devil,
He brought her ready,
She handed reassurances,
Her demeanor steady,
The nurse prepped up the OT,
As she put on the gloves,
The angels began wailing,
In the skies above,
She walked in to butcher,
To feast on her sin,
As the nurse shut the chamber,
Cordoning of the din,
She peaked on adrenaline,
In that house of slaughter,
Cutting of the cord,
Of yet another daughter,
And when out she stepped,
Her hands were sparkling clean,
But clean weren’t those eyes,
Bloodied, remorselessly gleamed,
The father stood relieved,
His burden was disposed,
Handed over the niceties,
Like she had proposed,
And when she returned home,
Cuddled up her daughter,
She had forgotten the blood,
Forgotten the slaughter.

Not a tear of regret fell,
Not a hint of remorse,
As she slept content with self,
Her lust screaming for more.

~Archwordsmith

Supporting by Youffie (nami64 deviantART)

Supporting by Youffie
(nami64 deviantART)

The last letter

Silent is the night,
But I fear it won’t last,
Waiting for the calm,
To be shattered by a blast,
So sad, so deplorable,
This heaven is now a hell,
I walk around clutching the death,

Waiting for dropping shells.

I look at the skies,
I feel so alone,
Thinking of you my love,
I wish I could be home,
I wish in were my arm,
Not death but my life,
I dread the fact that I may,
Never kiss you dear wife.

I walk along the fences,
The barbed wires say,
Your life is more bloodied,
Than we ever may,
And yes, you may have,
Love waiting back somewhere,
Tangled in our world of hate,
You’ll never feel that care.

I focus in the dark,
For shadows that may move,
My grip tightens on trigger,
But I still think of you,
Torn like a piece of paper,
Between this love and war,
I wish for you the smiles,
Ready to take the scars.

Oh there goes the enemy,
His canons breathing fire,
The deafening boom simply strokes,
All my hidden desires,
The sky is lightning up,
As I run to take cover,
If I come back in pieces,
Well I’ll still be your lover.

~Archwordsmith

Please click on the links below to connect with Dr. Archit Srivastava and to read more of his work.

http://archwordsmiths.blogspot.in/

http://loveizcomplicated.blogspot.in/

https://twitter.com/docsaystruth

https://twitter.com/docsaystruth

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Missed Opportunities

16 Aug
Do You Remember?

Photographed by Marcin Laskarzewski (losesprit – deviantART)

Hello! Welcome to my blog. I’ve been asked many times why I write. I’m going to take a moment to answer this question. Firstly, I write because I love it. I have a very active imagination; my mind is bursting with stories, characters and worlds waiting to spill out onto paper. Finally, I write to entertain…myself as well as others, and if along the way I can inspire or teach: it would be icing on the cake. I love icing. ;D

Now on to today’s post. I ran across this piece of writing on twitter, and it moved me to tears. It doesn’t have a title, or a writer’s name attached to it, but I thought it worth sharing. I hope you enjoy it.

***

Remember the day I borrowed your brand new car and dented it?
I thought you’d kill me, but you didn’t.

And remember the time I dragged you to the beach, and you said it would rain, and it did?
I thought you’d say, “I told you so.” But you didn’t.

Do you remember the time I flirted with all the guys to make you jealous, and you were?
I thought you’d leave, but you didn’t.

Do you recall the time I spilled strawberry pie all over your car rug?
I thought you’d hit me, but you didn’t.

And remember the time I forgot to tell you the dance was formal and you showed up in jeans?
I thought you’d drop me, but you didn’t.

Yes, there were lots of things you didn’t do.
But you put up with me, and loved me, and protected me.

There are lots of things I wanted to make up to you
when you returned from Iraq.

But you didn’t.

~Anonymous

ssAmericanSoldier20

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aptopix mideast iraq --71605116_v2.grid-6x2

My Love

I wrote this for you, my love

For your gentle, verdant eyes

For your dulcet lips

For your sparkling, sincere smile

I wrote this for you

Because you loved me so tenderly

You forgave me so easily

You understood me so well

I love the way you

Gladly gave me what’s yours

Showed compassion to all living things

Always put my needs first

I wish I would have

Been more appreciative

never exploited your generosity

Told you how much I really needed you

It is too late now because you’re gone.

I’ll never have the chance to love you the way you deserved to be loved.

~ Vashti Quiroz-Vega

lovers__by_lileinaya-d5drrdl

Don’t Wake Me

I saw your smile in my dreams

I didn’t want to wake

I reminisced gazing into your eyes

I saw the soul of an angel

Your kindness astounded

even the most skeptical side of me.

You taught me to love, to feel

when I was but an empty shell.

I assumed you’d always be here,

but one morning I woke to find

your arm was not draped over me.

~ Vashti Quiroz-Vega

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Don’t put off telling someone you love exactly how you feel. You may not get the chance later.

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It Happened In An Elevator – Short Story

16 Jul

 

The Writer Next Door_Vashti Quiroz-Vega_love_story

It Happened In An Elevator

by Vashti Quiroz-Vega

I was staying on the 10th floor of a ritzy Madison Avenue hotel in New York City. I was due in the conference room, where my presentation at a board meeting would shape my career. As I pushed the fifth floor button in the elevator commanding it to transport me to this engagement, I was entirely unaware my life would be changed forever: that a stranger would steal my heart. All of this before I had even reached my destination. Who knew so many emotions could blossom in a 4 by 7 ft. suspended box?
She entered my life on the ninth floor, hauling a suitcase on wheels. As her long, shapely legs crossed the threshold, her smile caught my breath. There was something in her glance that made my heart beat faster. A mermaid’s alluring voice said, “Ground floor, please.” She might as well have sung a lullaby. My knees faltered. What is happening to me? This is not the first beauty I’ve seen. I inhaled, remembering to breathe, and absently pressed the button, obeying her command.

 

 

I looked at my briefcase and reminded myself of the importance of my session on the fifth floor. My successful performance in this meeting would mean a promotion, a raise—all the things I had been focused on achieving. From the corner of my eye, I caught her checking me out. When I turned, she snapped her head forward and played with her hair. Does she feel it too? I swear the temperature in the small space went up a degree or two as I watched her lick her lips. The intense chemistry filled the chamber—primal, and thick enough to snuff out the air.

The elevator stopped. Talk to her! You may never get another chance. I wrestled with my id. A woman with a haggard face entered the elevator with her brood. Kids played and ran circles in the tight space, while their mother yelled at them to stop. A little boy pushed the beauty, knocking her into me. Prickly sensations coursed throughout my body. I reached out to steady her. As I touched her arm, my eyes narrowed. My pulse raced. I was on fire. Through a cacophony of shrieks and shouts I heard her say, “I’m sorry,” as she moved away a proper distance and tidied her formfitting skirt. How I envied her clothes!

The elevator stopped again. Momma and her chickadees scrambled out of the cubicle. The little boy who had shoved the fetching stranger looked over his shoulder and grinned at me, as if he knew I wanted to thank him. A few more floors, and she would leave my presence forever. As the doors closed before us, she glanced my way and giggled as she shook her head. “Kids,” I said. She nodded and lowered her eyes. She gathered her long tresses to one side, exposing her neck. She feels it too.

Once more, the elevator came to a standstill. This was the fifth floor, my floor. I clenched my jaw as I stared at my briefcase. The meeting can wait. I turned to look at her. She questioned me with her eyes, no doubt reminded that the fifth floor button was glowing when she first entered the elevator. She glanced at my briefcase and then at me again. Slowly the corners of her lips curved upwards. I imagined what they would taste like. Her face told me she knew I had to be somewhere else, but chose to ride with her instead. The doors opened, and I lost her gaze. Frustration began to set in as a woman invaded our sanctuary, her hair twisted in a severe bun. Although it was lit, the woman jabbed at the ground floor button. My body went slack. The last few floors would be spent with this intruder.

I turned my face and looked at the angel. I tried to muster the courage to speak to her. At least ask for her name. The rejection and maltreatment from beauties past rooted my being in fear and fixed my feet where they stood. Even my voice box was gripped firmly shut so as to prevent me from uttering words. Her lovely blonde hair glittered in the dim man-made radiance. I contemplated the smooth curves of her face. The silky texture of her sun kissed skin beckoned my touch.

Ding. The elevator doors slid open. More people plagued us by entering our world, but I forgave them since the alluring stranger moved closer to me to make way for the crowd. My chest heaved in rhythm with my rapid breathing. Her fragrance drifted into my nostrils, rendering me helpless. Her hips lightly brushed across my manhood, making it come to life. My body quivered. Making room for her luggage, she stood so close. She slowly turned her face toward me. We stared at each other. Speak to her! I could feel the warmth of her breath. I watched her full, rosy lips move to form words. My entire body tensed in anticipation. “This is my floor,” she said.

She might as well have stabbed me in the chest. The hoisting platform came to a halt, and my heart skipped a beat. The doors opened. One crowd departed the elevator while another multitude rushed to enter. She wove her way through the mob, slowed by her luggage. The fear that gripped my body finally released me, and I stepped forward to claim my destiny.

A hand took hold of my shoulder. “Ethan, I hope you’re ready for this meeting. Those men are sharks!” It was my boss, grinning and patting me on the back. I tried to focus on what he was saying, but my eyes kept roaming back to the captivating splendor crossing the threshold.

I gripped the handle of my briefcase tightly. “Yes sir, I am ready.” I stepped back to stand next to him and fixed my eyes on the ground. My heart turned to lead, the weight of it dragging me down. I lifted my eyes and watched her walk away. I had never longed for anything as much. Before stepping out of my life she turned and with her eyes, she kissed me goodbye.

Copyright © 2013 by Vashti Quiroz-Vega. All rights reserved.

Romance-The Writer Next Door-Vashti Q-short story-storytellingThe Writer Next Door-Vashti Q-short_story-storytelling-Romance

Have you ever had an experience like this? I’d love to hear about it in the comment section below. Tell me about the one that got away or the romance that almost was. ;D