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Chantaclair Rose

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 ---<--{©@ Marsha Rose 

Chantaclair's Library

Come and Write in the Library
Add your own Story, or add on to those of others
Click the doorway to Enter



The Eye of the Beholder
by Drew and Marsha ---&nsbn--[@ ChantaclairRose '99 

She sat on the thick rough boulder and looked out over the raging waters. So filled with strength and majesty they were. She wondered if she could ever again feel that way, strong, sure, confidant. Her eyes were misted from her thoughts, gentle tears contrasted with the angry drops of pelting rain. Her hair whipped around her as she shivered in the storm, though she didn't move away from the stone. It was here that she had last seen him, his eyes were still emblazoned in her thoughts, those eyes that would make her heart pound and her palms sweat. She didn't even know the name of the color of them. They were an uncommon blue, much like the sea that she sat mesmerized by at this moment.
The rest of the story HERE 

Thought for the Day

"Do unto others, doesn't mean... Do to others what they have done to you."
---&nsbn--{@ Marsha Steed ' 00

Not Perfect

Not Perfect

Take an hour glass
and turn it around.
Don't look away

Those are the moments
of your life.
Those are the little things
that make up an existence. 

Each grain of sand
like the grand Creator
when He was finished, 
"It is good" ... 


"It is perfect."

It is good.   Every grain,
every moment
every thought
every effort
every failure
every day
every month
every year.
Not perfect, but,
it is. . . 

---<--{© Marsha (Chantaclair Rose) Steed  10/01
written after a day I ran out of kleenex.
inspired by Sarah Van Breathnauch's 'Simple Abundance'.

---&nbsn--{© Marsha (Chantaclair Rose) Steed '01 (idea from Sheila Heen) 



Soul lies closed
fearful from the exposure
captured and beaten
too often blistered.
Opening to softness
challenged to unveil
sunburns cause cancer
best remain covered. 

Sharing what moves us
is like offering a taste
of ice cream
to a waif.

Possibilities endlessly
piled upon graveyards of want
promises whispered piercingly
through the fog of long regret.
Gauntlets thrown daringly
blindfolds fastened tight.
Hearts bloody remains the casualty
of another Quixotic attempt.
Will the windmills dash
and make ribbons of faltering attempt?
The dusk settles in silent pause
of one more brighter dawn. 

---&nsbn--{© ChantaclairRose '2k 


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The Manor | The Ezine | Search Site | What is New | Web Design | Victorian Pins | Poetry | Stories | Links | Family Room | Chapel | DeliumFFRPG | Piano Arts | About Me | Business  | Feedback | Contact

Chantaclair's Parlor Designs © 1999 ; 2000; 2001
Marsha Rose
Copyrighted Images and/or Poetry on this site may NOT be removed from these pages, changed, sold, referenced in your web pages (as in linking to the source) or used in any way for any purpose without express written consent.
They are the property of the copyright owner listed upon this page. and subject to the 
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as set forth.. 
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Thank You.

Page last updated Oct 6, 2001

Thank You For Visiting the Parlor