Wild Irish Rose ~ Ottava Riva

The Sweetest Symphony ~ A Villanelle

"Symphony of the Night"

Deviant Art by Obscure Nymph (c) 2009

The Sweetest Symphony

Nestled beside you, there is no place I’d rather be,

Kissing beneath the canopy of stars and moonlight.

If I ever lost you, it would be the death of me.

The sight of you lifts my spirits and sets my troubles free.

As the majestic eagle spreads his wings, love takes flight.

Nestled beside you, there is no place I’d rather be.

Your voice affects me like sweet music from a symphony.

Your fingers on my skin make me tingle with delight.

If I ever lost you, it would be the death of me.

Passion washes over us like the warm, gentle sea.

Our love has a ripple effect, there is no end in sight.

Nestled beside you, there is no place I’d rather be.

When we are apart, I count the hours in misery.

I try, try again to make it through each lonely night.

If I ever lost you, it would be the death of me.

I pray that we will be together for an eternity.

These feelings we share are so rare, but oh so right.

Nestled beside you, there is no place I’d rather be.

If I ever lost you, it would be the death of me.

Colleen M. Breuning © 2010

January 9, 2010

Talking Penguins and Singing Komodos

Note: This is my most recent post for a group that I blog with on myspace called "Blogophilia." Each week, there is a challenge with bonus points given for including them in your write. I think you'll enjoy this one. I often write blogs from my cat Tommy's point of view, and my myspace friends really seem to enjoy them. (In fact, I might have to give Tommy his own myspace page if his popularity continues to grow!) I hope you like this, I had fun doing it. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all!!

Blogophilia 42.2 Topic: "Hair of the Dog that Bit Me"

Bonus points

(hard, 2 pts): mention a former diplomat of the ....USA.... (NOT someone stationed here for another country)
(easy, 1 pt): include a speaking penguin

Final date to post Dec. 21st, 2009 midnight GMT

Talking Penguins and Singing Komodos

Yo, it’s Tommy! I’m having lots of fun around the house, now that Christmas is only a week away. I heard Dad say to Mom the other day, “This place looks like a gift shop.” I think that’s a very accurate description (even though technically I’ve never been inside a gift shop.) There are so many new hiding places and familiar toys to play with around here. Mom has transformed this place into a virtual Christmas wonderland. It’s a cat’s dream come true, I tell ya.

The penguin brigade has certainly grown. You see, my Mom has a miniature park bench set up by the piano where three stuffed penguins sit year round. Their names are Willy, Frosty and Henry Kissinger. But wait…. the year round penguins are now standing behind the park bench, and some newcomers have taken their place!

I decide to move in to get a little closer look. I sniff all of them, after all, that’s my job. They all seem familiar. The newer Christmas penguins have a cardboard box odor, probably from being in storage for close to a year. Harmless enough, I thought, until one of them opened their mouths.....

“Hey, check out this out!” Penny the penguin boasts as she jumps aboard her wooden sled. She was the smallest of the brigade, and the only one that could fit on the sled. “Look at me!!!!!”

“What? Hey listen... dude, you can’t sled on Berber carpet,” I retorted, but she wasn’t listening to me. But magically, the sled began to slide across the carpet until it ran smack dab into me. Too close for comfort!

“Ouch! Watch where you’re going, moron!” I yelled, withdrawing my paws, getting my claws ready to swat at her.

Out of nowhere, Squawky the penguin started waddling towards me, flapping her wings and squawking up a storm. She’s getting right up in my face, and I have to admit it unnerves me a bit. I guess she’s just doing what mothers do best, defending her baby from imminent danger.

“Stop! Stop! Get away from my child!” she screams at me, ferociously flapping her wings.

Oh God, I'm screwed! A talking penguin? I try to fake an innocent look. “But I didn’t do anything. I’m just a bystander!”

“Squawk! Squawk! That’s what they all say! Back off, Jack!”

“You’ve got it all wrong! It was my sister, Jordan. See that big white puffball over there in the corner?” I replied, pointing my paw in her direction.

Squawky did a 180 and proceeded to waddle towards Jordan, who had backed herself into a corner. She was clearly more afraid of this talking penguin than I was. Her green eyes were wide with terror. No sooner did Squawky start to open her mouth, Jordan was leaping out of her way.

“Haaa haaa!!! What a fraidy cat!” she taunted Jordan, who proceeded to hide beneath the dining room table.

Suddenly I saw a large green komodo dragon lumbering down the hallway. It was moving slow compared to Squawky. Then it opened its lizard mouth and began to sing.

“Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad! Prospero Ano y Felicidad!” the thing sang in perfect key.

I glanced over at Jordan. She was keeping her distance, but by now her hair was standing on end. I was clearly concerned for her. “You okay, Jordy?”

“Hell no! All of this is freaking me out. I need a little hair of the dog that bit me. Think you can persuade Mom to break out the catnip?”

I sighed. “No way! You know she won’t do it, she just cleaned the tile floors. No amount of begging or pleading is going to work. Believe me, I’ve tried it before! I could sit all day beside the closet where the catnip is stored, flashing my sad little cat eyes… NOT GONNA HAPPEN!”

I held my ground as the dragon passed Jordan by and made his way over to me.

“My name is Jose. I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas from the bottom of my heart!” he crooned, wagging his massive tail as he sang.....

Okay, this is starting to creep me out. First talking penguins and now singing komodo dragons? What is the world coming to? I slowly back away from the komodo dragon. When I reach a safe distance, I turn towards the year round penguins whom I share the house with the entire year.

“Henry Kissinger, we need your help!”

The unflappable Henry waddled over to me, and I appealed to his sense of diplomacy. He was a wise old penguin, somber and of few words. But he had successfully mediated so many conflicts for me in the past, when I’d taken on small lizards and dragonflies buzzing inside the house. He even made peace between me and the scarecrows, which just packed up and left a few weeks ago.

“Listen, Tommy. This house is big enough for all of us to peacefully coexist. All you need to do is steer clear of the little penguins. No need to be sniffing around them, you know they only come around during Christmas season. Hang tight, and in a few weeks, Mom will be packing them back up & putting them in storage the rest of the year.”

I sighed. “Okay, I suppose you’re right. I’ll back off. Could you also tell that komodo dragon to knock off the singing? I tell you, that is the cheesiest excuse of a Christmas song!”

Henry nodded in agreement. Hmmm ...I think to myself. Henry knows so much and he’s so worldly. I wonder if he has connections. I'm feeling a little stressed and Jordan is jonesin', so I bend in a little closer and whisper discreetly in his ear.

"One more thing... Dude, you got any catnip?”

Colleen M. Breuning © 2009

December 18, 2009

Acqua Alta

Acqua Alta

Feel the torrid caress

of the rising scirocco winds

relentlessly whipping

across the Adriatic Sea,

churning indigo waters

that once languished

under the hot sultry sun.

Venetian lagoons swell

with acrid animosity,

its gondoliers silent, faceless,

paddling in narrow canals

as muddy brown water

invades city streets,

flooding the empty plaza.

Bora tempest peaks

as tepid tidewaters

crest and tumble,

crumbling seawalls,

eroding coast lines

and washing away

the sins of yesterday.

The hypnotic pull

of the magnetic moon

melds with the faint glow

of streetlamps, reflecting

on streets of high water,

cobblestones wet,

and immersed

in this merciless tide.

Resigned to fate,

I gingerly step in,

plunging my feet

into the cold water…

waves of anxiety

rising, then receding

in this acqua alta,

the ebb and flow

of my life.

Colleen M. Breuning © 2009

December 2, 2009

From Fallout to Fortitude

"Fallout" Karezoid @ DeviantArt (c) 2009

From Fallout to Fortitude

Walking alone through the minefields of life
Dodging mortar shells of agony and strife.

Rapidly reaching the end of the rope
Clasping on tightly, holding out hope.

Sinking to the depths of Andromeda black,
Summoning strength to win my dignity back.

Seeing beyond the mirrors and smoke,
Placing my bets and going for broke.

Conquering fear through sheer persistence,
Leaving behind the bane of my existence.

Recovering from the fallout of a violent charade,
Waiting for mottled bruises and scars to fade.

Realizing that I have the fortitude to survive,
Thanking my higher power that I am still alive.

Colleen M. Breuning © 2009

October 14, 2009

Gilded Wings

The heavens hang
a laundry line of clouds
as far as the eye can see,
where placid waters
meet the sky.
The gentle tumble of breakers,
languid whispers
like velvet…
a soft caress
upon my ears
reminding me
of long ago.

Summer days that stretched
like bent and broken limbs,
reaching across
gray linen fields
for the temporal sun,
forever beckoning
with its white hot light.

But my dreams
dissolved….
I was not unlike Icarus
in his doomed attempt
to fly….
I hovered
ever closer
to your heart
of radiant beams.
I too, have melted,
like those gilded wings,
imperfect, wilting.

Perhaps it was my destiny
to melt, to dissolve
in a puddle of wax at your feet,
a fallen angel who veered
from her righteous path
on the way
to eternity.

Colleen M. Breuning © 2009
August 1, 2009

Healing Touch

Healing Touch

What do you do when life seems unfair,
Constantly raining on your parade?
Do you wallow in an ocean of self-pity,
Or make lemons into lemonade?

You can obsess with keeping up appearances,
Scattering excuses to cover up all the lies.
You can cry over spilled milk all day long,
Or you can brush the tears from your eyes.

What do you do when you can’t go on,
When your world is falling apart?
When your worst fears become reality
And you’re left with a wounded heart?

You can build a wall around you,
Retreat inside your shell to hide in vain.
Or reach out to those who truly love you,
And begin to heal your pain.

Don’t lie in a bed of remorse,
Don’t hang your head in shame.
Just stand as tall as the Eiffel Tower,
Own your mistakes, take the blame.

Though secrets may seem safe in your diary,
The confessional for your soul,
Open up your heart and let true love in,
Its healing touch will make you whole.

Colleen M. Breuning © 2009
June 4, 2009