Solitude Journal Entries

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• Stillness Speaks feature - I'm so honored
  by lianne

  My gratitude to the Stillness Speaks group can’t be contained in a journal entry no …

  My gratitude to the Stillness Speaks group can’t be contained in a journal entry no matter how effusive I might get! They have honored me by selecting my poem, Certain Solitudes as a featured piece this week and I’m truly overcome with emotion about that. As all of you wonderful, creative and fabulous artists know too well, sometimes you create a piece that is personally very meaningful to you and this is one of those for me. I’m so touched and so very grateful to the marvelous hosts in this extraordinary group – and grateful to all of you who read it and commented as well. I cherish your words. Much love, / Lianne xox

• Massive amounts of snow...
  by Michelle Hitt

  It’s very cold. I could hardly feel my hands on my way home from work. Also, it is, as Grammy would say, Snowing to Beat the Band...

  It’s very cold. I could hardly feel my hands on my way home from work. Also, it is, as Grammy would say, Snowing to Beat the Band outside! Speaking of which, I got a warning of Danger, Falling Snow on my way home. Yeah. No kidding. Anywho, after snapping a few pictures of our Snow Season I drove on in Solitude – lonesome as a leaf without a tree. I got home and sat here in Solitude as well. That is, until I logged on to Yahoo messenger and talked to Ozjami , and MSN messenger to talk to Googa . Oh well! Well, in case I forget to send Season’s Greetings your way in a timely fashion, I wish Happy Holidays to you all.

• What of the Friendship Bracelets?
  by Rella

  This morning my artist got up early and did the dishes because the plumber was coming. Silly girl, the plumber is coming tomorrow morning…

  This morning my artist got up early and did the dishes because the plumber was coming. Silly girl, the plumber is coming tomorrow morning. It’s been so many days at home alone that it’s getting difficult for her to distinguish a Monday from a Sunday from a birthday cake. Without a better plan, she headed back to bed and eventually dozed off and that at least took her through to lunch time. A little disoriented at sleeping so late, she came to realise it was Sunday and for a moment she was filled with hope that perhaps someone was coming to visit. She hoped that maybe one of those people, the ones who always say things like “We should catch up” and “I’ll stop by and visit” had decided to make good on their word. She got up quickly and found her phone to check for messages. And there it was. That screen. The one with the time and the symbols and the picture of the one that really matters. The one that just doesn’t light up with messages like it used to. My artist has had some really good friends. Fun friends; close friends; friends forever. She was always really good at staying in touch with friends, even when life shoved them around different bends. She helped when they were in trouble. She really helped a lot of people. She doesn’t know where they all went. I mean, it’s not like the friendships ended, they just don’t understand how it is for her now. They don’t understand the solitude and they don’t understand the pain. They don’t understand what happens to a person when their independence is snatched. They don’t understand that taking a couple of minutes to send a text or make a call or for the great God of effort, coming to visit, would make all the difference in the world to her. Just a little company while she waits at the mercy of her failing shell. A couple of people have been there to help and she is grateful for everything they do. It’s not fair that she should need so much from people that she can’t give back. To be with people is to be a burden and to be without them is to be painfully lonely. She knows life doesn’t work that way but she can’t stop trying to figure out how to win……

• Solitude
  by Kelly Boyle

  Hi there, To all those that have paid an intrerest in my piece of art work Solitude...

  Hi there, To all those that have paid an intrerest in my piece of art work Solitude / It is now available to buy. Thanks for your comments Kelly

• Guardian of Solitude
  by Jacqueline Haberer

  Guardian of my solitude. I saw him once trapped between shades of crimson and gray, his thoughts turning into smoke, and slowly escaping …

  Guardian of my solitude. I saw him once trapped between shades of crimson and gray, his thoughts turning into smoke, and slowly escaping from his quivering lips. They vanquished into nothingness. I will go back to that small corner, behind those Cyprus trees, below the chants of afternoon prayers and golden domes, and perhaps search for remnants of his thoughts from that sunny January afternoon in those bullet filled walls. I will go back and I will sit down. He never knew of my existence, never knew of those foreign young eyes transfixed on him for merely seconds, much less of how technology somehow immortalized him. He will never know that his presence still hovers over my roof, everywhere I go. He will never know my face, nor my name, nor my origin. He will never know that his wrinkles have transcended the iron walls that have been built all these years. It was the day that our labels became non-existent. Perhaps he smoked them away in oblivion.

• The Making of Good Memories
  by Katya Lavorovna

  Solitary and silent walks in the park in the evening sun amid the leaves to the sound of the click of my heels making echoes on stone. P…

  Solitary and silent walks in the park in the evening sun amid the leaves to the sound of the click of my heels making echoes on stone. Pumpkin spice coffee from a dark heavy mug at a terrace table with shafts of sunlight twinkling through the rustling trees. The sound of birdsong and a few remaining crickets begin to sing at dusk. Curling up in the big chair with a comforter and a good book. Soft jazz and wine alone by candlelight, punctuated by the sound of the wind at my window. The light of the moon across blue satin sheets that cover my body as I lay abed in the cool night. Sleep comes, and with it just a little healing. The scars on my soul fade a little, and the pain gives way to the fleeting but sweet respite of fond dreams. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll look through my viewfinder and see something I want to keep. -Katya

• Intemporel
  by Katya Lavorovna

  Soft skylight spreads it’s cool glow through the windows of my study, splashing across the intricate designs in the carpet as the mantle …

  Soft skylight spreads it’s cool glow through the windows of my study, splashing across the intricate designs in the carpet as the mantle clock marks the passing of time with a soft click at each swing of the pendulum. I sit at my desk in front of my screen, the tapping of my keyboard an insistent whisper as the sweet, haunting voice of Alessandra Santovito sings her melancholy rendition of Ave Maria softly from the stereo. I look up with the delicate chime of the clock and I realize hours have passed, yet I feel as if I’m still only minutes into my work. As evening approaches, light fades and withers on a room full of dark wood and memories, the air redolent with the aroma of brandy and candle wax. Another day has come and gone. I sit in a great black chair covered with worn, cracked, leather, suspended in solitary stillness as if I exist both in and out of time. My fingers have stopped typing, the music has long since gone silent, and my eyelids have grown heavy. A single last ray of sunlight peeks through a cloud low along the horizon and stabs silently into my sanctuary, illuminating the motes of dust as they float through the air. I become aware of my own breath as it escapes my dry lips, and the momentary spell is broken. -K

• WOOHOO!!!
  by Lee Trujillo

  I sold my first piece of work! Solitude I hope whoever bought i…

  I sold my first piece of work! Solitude I hope whoever bought it loves this as much as I do! Lee

• The Wind
  by Ursula Tillmann

  I can feel the wind today / stronger than ever whipping / away my tears of / solitude and loneliness. No longer do I feel / him overpower…

  I can feel the wind today / stronger than ever whipping / away my tears of / solitude and loneliness. No longer do I feel / him overpowering me - / we are one – in need / of each other. Poem by Ursula Tillmann

• Solitude
  by Hashmi

  Within me was a haunting darkness, / a limitless,endless space, / i wandrd around aimlessly / longing for a taste of life / with tears fillin…

  Within me was a haunting darkness, / a limitless,endless space, / i wandrd around aimlessly / longing for a taste of life / with tears filling my heart / you fild my heart so that / light pours forth my body.