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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=568723" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>PH passions: Falling In And Out Of Love</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Passion </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I’ve got a new passion, can’t stop writing <br>maudlin poetry when experiencing these <br>heavenly transports, least I’ve learnt to <br>hold my tongue and not drive colleagues <br>up the wall with my odes to joy, but I have <br>to write about it so much to express a host <br>of joyous emotions that is overpowering, <br>juvenile and magnificent all at the same time </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Stones </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the old days I fell in love with stones <br>collecting them illegally in nature resorts, <br>walking back and forth with enormous stones <br>between campsite and beachfront, sitting up <br>till three in the morning playing with them, <br>at home varnishing them and placing them<br>all over the house till the mess was too much<br>and the kids started throwing them around…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shells </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then I had a love affair with shells, collecting<br>them for hours and lovingly washing them in <br>the bath, sorting them then arranging the small<br>shells in the big ones, pasting them down with <br>salt and icing sugar, a flimsy affair but so delicate<br>and enchanting, covering them with cellophane<br>handing them out as gifts to my friends – what <br>they did about the ants I don’t know…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Branch and Rope</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then I hung up the branch of a tree in my office <br>decorating it with glitter and shells and anything <br>nice, pictures of fairies and elves, and then <br>criss-crossed the ceiling with rope on which<br>to hang more fanciful stuff, even condom balloons <br>when it was forced upon us during a promotional <br>campaign, feathers and small toys I secretly took<br>from the kids’ rooms in a bid to save them </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bricks </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Feeling quite insulted when my boss objected to <br>this lovely mobile of mine whereas the cleaners <br>designated me the local sangoma – an honourary <br>title, of course - then I discovered bricks, the red <br>clay ones called mamparas that glow with life <br>and feel so good to the touch, I licked them and <br>took them into the bath, the easiest way to clean <br>them and scratching the bathtub irreparably, then </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Gross </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pasting dried leaves and flowers on them, finishing <br>off with silver glitter, a wonderful mess, brought <br>them to the office one by one, bricks, dust, clay, <br>dried flowers and glitter messing everywhere…<br>Because of my odes to clay bricks a translator <br>actually licked one - when I saw how gross it looked, <br>I was most heartily ashamed and never did it again <br>at least not where other people could see me</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Grass Phase </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then I had a grass phase, being fascinated with <br>golden elephant grass, I stashed grass everywhere <br>and it was beautiful, but hubby was quite disgusted, <br>grass is messy and we don’t live in a den – so out <br>they went – then the stringing little-glitter-thingies <br>everywhere-phase came and went, it seemed that <br>passion phases were over - nowadays my taste <br>is more sophisticated – but</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An Affliction </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I still can’t get rid of another affliction: Licking an <br>empty ice-cream plate; always making sure the kids <br>can’t see me, but I know it is terrible all the same- <br>only my mother forbade us to do it when we were <br>small, so it became a token of solidarity among us <br>that we licked those plates – in spite of her edicts<br>against it, In any case, after that I discovered PH <br>and my passions drove people wild, now I fall in <br>and out of love without anyone being the wiser…</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Margaret+Alice">Margaret Alice</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=568723" data-title="PH passions: Falling In And Out Of Love de Margaret Alice" data-description="Passion 

I’ve got a new passion, can’t stop writing 
maudlin poetry when experiencing these 
heavenly transports, least I’ve learnt to 
hold my tongue and not drive colleagues 
up the wall with my odes to joy, but I have 
to write about it ..."></div>
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