Post has attachment

Post has attachment
Bonjour à tous et tous.
Si vous aimez ce morceau de ma musique, partagez le!!

Post has shared content
"Yellow And Green Flower Bed / Price"
"Yellow And Green Flower Bed / Price" by Arcassin Burnham Sweet Fridays wake the sun again, The wind takes care of them that never ends, The beauty in them reflects the beauty in you, and you shall prevail giving them an awe display, let them know your name...

Post has attachment

Post has attachment

Post has attachment
(Like the dresses...I couldn't & blue or gold & white)

By Isabella George -- Storyteller

That warm breath of pungent odor
Was a puppy yawning under your nose;
And when the puppy licks your face
Straight to the heart, emotion goes.

You fall in love to say the least,
Affection bonds man and beast.
You bring the puppy home to the kids,
They show surprise with wide eyelids!

And promise to share with the house breaking, 
A chore you know they would be forsaking.
The kids are beaming, happy and smiling;
With the new puppy out romping and wilding;
Fetching and catching frisbees zooming,
Giving it a bath, brushing and grooming. 

But for you,-- 
There is doggie day care,
Constantly vacuuming up the hair,
Getting it off of your favorite chair.
Now, suddenly it is chewing the shoes,
And biting the furniture keeps it amused,
It comes in muddy and jumps in the beds,
Bites the pillows and rips them to shreds. 
And the "cute little puppy" is such a louse
Though housebroken, it poops in the house.
The teenage pup is a real hard head,
When it doesn't obey, it makes you see red!
And, so that it knows to obey your rule,
You put the hard head in obedience school.

Now, you have enormous bills for the vet,
Shots and flea collars, and you're getting in debt, 
Making sure it has all its meds,
And the growing puppy has to be fed;
Well, it's not like you did not know,
That, cute little puppy, would continue to grow!

But after all-
When you first held it, your heart grew fond 
When it opened its tiny mouth to yawn;
And your heart got a bit of a whiff
As your senses took that fatal sniff. 
In that moment, a phenomenal feeling
Started the love in your heart to reeling
It was puppy love, the way you could tell
Was the moment your heart began to swell.

The fumes of that intoxicating vapor
Oozed a lifelong doggie caper;
A pet to love and a joy to own
Though it digs the lawn to bury a bone
And now you're thinking,
"Is this the same muzzle  
That's panting and stinking?"

Puppy's breath-
Like the smell of a new car,
It didn't last long, but you've gone so far.

© Isabella George
All rights reserved
2 Photos - View album

Post has attachment

By Isabella George --- Storyteller
Spending sunny days on the bay
Beneath coconut palms, as they sway,
Laid back in, the flow of a warm ocean breeze
Staid likin', the blow of trade winds off the seas.
The sun hides behind billowy clouds, that tease
As if they might attempt to rain.
But a sunny day in the tropics, is plain
And simply fabulous and lush,
Barefoot in sand, that's warm and plush.

He whips up, triple sec, lime and tequila,
And sips up, a frothy cold margarita.
He blazes a blunt, under a Banyan tree,
He lazes in front, of the turquoise sea.
The island lifestyle is simple and good,
The big city rat race, forever withstood. 

Dining on;
Red snapper and succulent mango shrimp;
And they absolutely do not skimp
On native, rice and beans or guava pork slabs,
Or grouper, conch, spiny lobster and crabs.
They free-style multiple laps, to fight the flab,
And rub coconut oil on their toned abs.

She sips, a frosty cold banana daiquiri,
She dips, her pretty feet in the foam of the sea,
Her curves are getting a lot of his flattery;
Relaxing, in a lounge chair
Under the palms,
Seagulls, scrounge where,
She throws them alms.

From city life, they are emancipated
Have planned and eagerly anticipated
Adopting a low-key way of life
They're falling in love again, he and his wife;
In love with a lush island paradise
Where a few million US, will more than suffice.
Being in the latitude, is so good for the attitude
The pace is slow, and laid way back,
Whereas city folks can't seem to relax,
He and his lady chill 24 / 7,
That could be on Earth, as it is in Heaven.

They've traded long commutes to the office,
Emails, texts and urgent phone calls,
Freeway traffic, and crowded fashion malls,
For caves and mountains with rushing waterfalls.
And for sheer cotton gauze and fine linen flax
And weaves of sheer fluid silks for her slacks.
He shed pin stripes and the boardroom, in fact

He now works several e-businesses alone
With a laptop, a tablet and his cell phone,
To the mining of Bitcoin, he is profitably prone.
He works on the beach or on the veranda,
In swim trunks, flip flops, a T-shirt, and-a 

Hand rolled cigar, sporting a Panama hat;
He's holding on to her, and staring at that
Spectacular ocean front sea view,
On a mountainside, God has kissed with dew.
© Isabella George
All rights reserved

Post has attachment
DJAVAN is a Brazilian singer songwriter, who combines traditional Brazilian rhythms with popular music drawn from Africa, Europe and the Americas..
By Isabella George
I blamed it on Basia,...............(jazz singer)
When Asturd,..........................(Brazilian singer Asturd Gilberto)
Which was so absurd,
Briefly distracted me;
My fling with her was fast and fleeting  
She lacked the funk,
She was smooth, but in completing,
I soon tired of her one note samba,
That girl from Ipanema and all the drama.
I missed your steady and passionate cool,
And your "Luz Som Dimensao" old school,
With that fusion of bossa nova meets Beatles fame.
I missed the sexy sound of your Portuguese name
Since "Flor de Lis", you have been my muse
Through mental clarity, or being confused,
I have grooved with you through bliss and blues.
Sailed with you through life's frontiers
And never stopped loving you all these years
Your voice, an erotic whisper in my ear;
Deeply penetrating, soft and clear
Is the velvet of your vocal tone,
The grit, I hear, in the growl of your groan
The fit, I get, from the scowl of you moan
As melodies gently blow off the curl of your tongue;
"Oh how good... if I could... again to be young!"
The rhythm of your sway moves me,
The pulse of your bossa grooves me
Each string of your guitar quickly moves
To syncopate the rhythm of your samba grooves.
Then the lyrics flow from the fullness of your lips
Lyric of the sea as the storm rages,
And how far away, from the bay, are the ships?
Your African bloodline is in the dread of your hair,
In your eyes, is the sensuality of your sexy stare,
Your electrifying aura, permeates the venue air
Your bronze skin glows in the spotlight glare,
Center stage, you so royally take your chair,
The guitar, as close to your heart, as a prayer.
Then you sing to me in Portuguese,
Of your bird of paradise and the quiet seas
You get my Chicago blues,
"Que Foi My Love?"
I get your jazz and samba fuse.
You scat in my language, in the quiet room.
You sing of passionate moments in a quiet lagoon,
With your bird of paradise, under the stars and moon.
There, you anchor down safely from the sea
And write those lovely songs of love for me;
The frangipani, jasmine and hot punani
That's lain upon your downy soft bed,
Inspire the ear-gasms of what your lovely lyric said!
© Isabella George
All rights reserved
Please visit my FB page for the book and give a  LIKE  thanks

Trying to bridge the space between who I am and who I'm trying to become their constant clashing had left my heart into pieces. Lately I've been devoting more time to trying to keep peace between the two but war have no mercy on my soul....

Post has attachment
Speaking for both sides as a man.
Wait while more posts are being loaded