- Books, Literature, and Writing
Reflections on Love
N.B: Please note, all my articles are best read on desktops and laptops
These short pieces are my reflections on the subject of love.
Some of these will be very personal truths for me, some have a basis in truth in my life, and some possibly have only a little truth in my life.
I can relate to all of the sentiments, but I cannot at this time say which are most personal to me.
I hope though that all may strike a personal chord with someone.
It has been a pleasure to write them.
THE TOUCH OF LOVE
How strange the touch of love...
The touch of the skin of a billion people would stir no emotion, no feeling, no sense of desire, no passion.
The touch of the skin of the one I love feels softer and gentler than the finest silk, and more comforting too. And lips; to touch our lips together; how such a simple touch can pump the adrenalin and make the heart beat faster, is something no science can explain.
How strange the touch of love.
How sweet the innocence of youth and the immense passion of first love.
The belief that love is all that matters. The belief in fairy-tale romance. The belief that love conquers all...
A belief that all too often fades with age, and is extinguished, as harsh realities set in and the daily grind of living becomes ascendant, and the romance is then forgotten and loving together becomes just living together and existing together.
But I still believe...
40 years on.
THE EMOTION OF LOVE
An all-consuming emotion. An emotion which can block the mind to rationality, an emotion which can blind the eye to ugliness, an emotion which can deafen the ear to evil words. It lightens the heart more than the lightest of good humours, it stirs the tears more than the deepest pain, and when it is betrayed, it can create bitterness deeper than the most intense anger.
That is love.
THE NEVER ENDING LOVE
The emotion, the tugging at the heart, the bond stayed firm, the man and the woman together in the field. Nothing could take away the strength and the depth of the feeling.
The bond between them would never be broken. She knew that. There among the grass under the shade of the old oak tree, she knew the love would live forever.
The tears poured as she laid the flowers on his grave.
The following is taken from one of my other pages - a compilation of short stories each of exactly 50 words
With love, my mother gave birth and nurtured me.
With love, my girlfriend stared into my eyes, squealing ‘Yes!’ to my proposal.
With love, my children laughed and squeezed my hand and needed me so much.
With love, my friends mourned my passing.
What love! The measure of my success.
THE DEEPEST LOVE
She doted on him. In her eyes he was the most special man in all the world. He was the man who could do no wrong. He was the man who had the brightest future, the nicest smile. He was all she lived for, all she thought of. She would have done anything for him. And did. Oh, others would come into his life and love would grow again, and any new love would be of a very very different kind, and maybe this new love would grow deeper than his love for her.
But the love which any other person felt for him would never be as deep as the love he experienced from her.
And he knew it, but he knew it too late to say thank you. Saying thank you when she is no longer there is too late.
Thank you mum.
LOST LOVE RETAINED
Is there anything which is worse than a relationship which still remains, when all the love in that relationship has been lost?
Yes there is;
There is a relationship which has been lost, when all the love in that relationship still remains.
Her love was clear and focused. She came from a poor background in a poor country. He came from a rich background in a rich country.
Her love was deep and true and and it was certain. And she had so much love to give.
First for his passport, second for his wallet, third for him.
There is a hole that exists. A hole that is deeper than the deepest well, deeper than the deepest mine, deeper than the greatest chasm. And it is darker, more empty, more hollow.
Emptiness and hollowness can be relative terms. A hole which has always been a hole is no more empty today than it has ever been.
But where once there was solidity and warmth and fullness, if now there is vacuum and coldness and emptiness, then this is when the hole feels deepest, and the emptiness and the hollowness are most acute.
Today the hole is in my heart. And it is the deepest, most empty, hollowest hole in all the world.
And it can never be filled again.
Each time she strolled past him she smiled, and continued on her way, forgetting the moment. Oblivious.
And each time he smiled back, and consumed in his own fantasies, he watched her go.
Some times she'd briefly chat with her acquaintance, before continuing with her day, forgetting the moment. Oblivious.
And each time he would cherish those moments and how he wished he had the courage to tell her the things he wanted to tell her.
Then one day she left and never returned. Oblivious to what she had left behind.
And he would always wonder. What ever became of her? And what might have been, if only .....
Thank You for Reading this Page
I'D LOVE TO KNOW WHICH OF THESE REFLECTIONS YOU LIKE THE BEST...
Please put a tick in the appropriate box. Thanks.
All My Other Pages ...
- Greensleeves Hubs on HubPages
As an Internet writer I have written articles on many subjects including science and history, politics and philosophy, film reviews and travel guides, as well as poems and stories. All can be accessed here
Please feel free to quote limited text from this article on condition that an active link back to this page is included
My Other Creative Pages ...
- 50 Word Mini-Stories; A Creative Writing Exercise
A number of years ago the Daily Telegraph newspaper ran a competition to write a story or essay in exactly 50 words - not one more, not one less. In this page I publish a few of my 50 word essays.
- Reflections on Loneliness and Depression
This is a page which explores through some short essays the emotions and behaviours which accompany the clinical state of depression, and also one of its most prevalent and pernicious causative factors - the experience of loneliness
- Reflections on Beauty
They say 'Beauty is in the eye of the beholder'. In this collection of poetry, prose, sentiments and reminiscences, I am the beholder, and these are my thoughts on the subject of beauty and what it means to me
- Reflections on a Lost Relationship
These are xpressions of emotion composed in the first two weeks after the end of a relationship, and reflections of the thoughts which flitted through my head.