Instinct tells me you haven’t made plans for Valentine’s
Perhaps mine is a bit premature the thought,
I, too, haven’t set the coming date in stone
What a shame it would be if we both were caught
By the eye of others, the ask of another
You may find a reluctance to turn it down,
Propositions, woman, they come and they go
You’re worthy of a romantic night on the town
That defies the impress-her cult of commerce
Chocolate hearts and champagne simply for the sake,
Paired with a violinist strumming an Rg2 verse?
Now that spells the inklings of enchantment we’ll make
If it’s all in my mind, call me the pamper-her kind
But I sense something within you that we share,
Unaware of your silent yearning? Of course not
I, too, feel this yen, woman, it’s in the air
Instinct tells me you haven’t made plans for Valentine’s
Perhaps my imagination is but a premature thought,
But I, too, haven’t written anything down in ink
Might I be the handsome asker you’ve silently sought…
…for
Pamper-
Her-
Valentine’s?
-Rg2
_________
***
Pamper the woman . . . and forever live in her soul. -Rg2
A Gift for You by Rg2 Gift Giveaway (2) Honors Josette Wyatt . . . for the Holidays
‘A Gift for Josette by Rg2’: Inaugural ‘Can I Pamper You Friday?’ Gift Campaign Honors Its Second Pamperee
Congratulations, Josette Wyatt!
You’re the owner of a new handbag and scarf that can be added to your winter wardrobe accessories collection.
Thank you for selecting Pamper-Her-Friday post #278, “She Left Her Earrings,” as your favorite. And your unforgettable comment:
“It [the poem] reminds me of the time I was dating my husband and left my diamond earrings at his place, so when he woke up the next morning he would have a little reminder of me. Let’s just say it worked because the next day we were on another great date.”
Wow, what a story.
Thank you for supporting Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®, Josette.
Your gift is on its way.
How does it feel to be pampered?
New Year Blessings,
Rg2
_________
***
Pamper the woman . . . and forever live in her soul. -Rg2
Babygirl, it’s a cold, starry, wintry night
I can feel a shiver along your left thigh
And, no doubt, there’s a quiver in your right
Come close, come, just a little closer
To you a holiday story I’d like to read,
A Christmas tale about Old Man Winter
Your mind and heart I want to feed
Not long ago, women and men were at war
Their common enemy no longer the grinch,
Turned on one another how they settled a score
Proverbial fists and jaws they would tightly clinch
So many fatherless holidays had bred a hurt
A failed marriage, a broken start, a career deferred,
Former love interest wounds they tried to desert
Cries for restoration too long gone unheard
So they did to the other what they only knew how
Some lashed with vengeance, others simply walked away,
Why did he neglect to heed her shot across the bow?
The good man decided he wasn’t willing to stay
Fears of not knowing how to be to one another
The social distortion lead to mutual love abortion,
Who among them could turn into a velvet glover?
Was there enough to offer them all a healing portion
Of tenderness, understanding, and forgiveness
Or did Santa decide they were beyond repair,
If a redeeming quality is a person’s last hope
The spirit of grinch past surely doesn’t care
But Old Man Winter, the ol’ coot, would have his say
Snowed them in, did he, reminding them of their need,
To convert such sorrow into a better tomorrow
For only failure is the outcome of revenge and greed
What happened? Well, this is a tale without an end
It’s still writing itself I guess one could say,
Come closer, come, we’ll create our own ending
You’re the peace that I need on this Pamper-Her-Friday
My grandpops said this before he passed,
“Don’t lose your values amid this material oasis”
Of all the riches a man’s ingenuity can amass
All the better he operates on a simplistic basis:
Endeavor, give, take not a day for granted
You will fall down but you will also fall up,
Each failure propels us to a higher ground
Each lesson a currency that filleth life’s cup
Woman, I’ve been busy learning and paper-earning
But stomach-turning was my life void of you,
From the meaning of Christmas I’ve tried not to stray
And for this one I’m determined to remain true
My values of a simple, honest life in written works
There’s a little house in the forest with a blazing fire,
Filled with hickory scents and sweet peppermints
I haven’t much to offer but if your heart’s desire
Is a fortress of protection from the frosty elements
And slow kettled-cooked chicken sausage winter soup,
Caramel hot cocoa with Hershey’s kisses-melted hints
Vintage black-and-white Scrooge movies on video loop
The thickest, softest sweater-socks to cover your feet
A bundle of handstitched oversize quilted throws,
To bury ourselves under so doesn’t escape the heat
Your head on my shoulder? Indeed, that’s where it goes
As others wait for Christmas, I say we make our Christmas
Will you allow me to share with you my poetic art?
Close your eyes and listen to my cadence in rhyme
If this is a holiday movie then you’re the best part
I haven’t much to offer that the richer man can’t match
Only a little house in the forest and a one-horse sleigh,
But if a home full of love for the holidays is your wish
Allow me the gift of your heart on Pamper-Her-Friday
I realize it’s easy to give up on romance
In the midst of the current political climate,
As biblical predictions seemingly unfold
My savior’s coming—I won’t dare try to time it
I just know… I feel something within and without
Deep down, woman, admit it, might you, too?
Could it be that we’ve lost faith in one another
In a house divided, the winners are so few
What’s worse? A heart divided into two, three
Fragments of what once was a precious whole,
Scattered are they beneath the ornate tree
Deserving we are of a stocking’s lump of coal
A soul handled wrong for so very long
Loses its content becomes a soul on ice,
Love, I want not my spirit to lose its song
Some soul-searching for the holidays will suffice
It to say I need a friend who deeply cares
To help me discover what Christmas truly means,
The jewels and the gadgets and all the pretty wares
Do they have a place in our nativity scenes?
Or is it about a simple brown-paper package
Butterfly-tied with a simple, soft string,
Inside, a thin tome of romantic scripture
Written just for you—good tidings I bring
We’ll un-layer this holiday to its bare essence
Hum with me some carols and spiritual hymns,
The kettle’s filled with hot cinnamon apple cider
The Noble Fir is eager for us to dress its limbs
I realize it’s easy to give up on romance
But I refuse to allow you to feel such a way,
Discover with me the true meaning of Christmas
It’s beginning to look a lot like … Pamper-Her-Friday.
Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® Gift Giveaway (2) Arrives for the Holidays
Los Angeles, 11-24-17—When a stylish woman walks into a peopled room, she takes it. It’s hers without having said a word. When a stylish woman walks into a room with a stylish tote bag, she doesn’t have to take the room. It gives itself to her immediately. She owns every eye in the house.
The pictured handbag, elegant scarf included, is begging for a stylish owner to show it off for the holidays and beyond—compliments of Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®. Don’t you deserve to be pampered this holiday season? Of course you do.
Leave the Black Friday and Cyber Monday shopping frenzy to those eager to spend their hard-earned money. Not you.
Simply visit www.pamper-her-fridaybyrg2.com, Facebook (Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®), Instagram (Rg2 Romanceworks), LinkedIn (Roy Greer), or Twitter (@prosescribe) and leave a comment/reply on which one of the more than 300 Pamper-Her-Friday creative writings (each one is numbered) happens to be your favorite and why you chose it. A simple “like” or favorable emoji without a comment, though appreciated, won’t place you among the prospective winners.
The deadline for comment submissions is December 22, 2017. The winner to be announced the last Friday in December.
Oh, and once you receive your complimentary handbag and scarf, we apologize in advance for girlfriend envy the moment they see you adorned with your new accessories.
And if they ask where on earth you bought them, simply reply, “I didn’t. It’s Pamper-Her-Friday.”
My great-Aunt Gracie and -Uncle Russell’s farm in the old country has been auctioned. Apparently the Mennonites made the highest offer, unbeknownst to the family. They’d been eying the property for years, perhaps waiting for our grands to tire of the responsibility of it all.
The bid fell through, however. Call it providence. Or luck.
I call it grace.
I’m going up this weekend to survey the acreage. I want to take in every square foot of the land and the structures—I can’t think of a better time than autumn. And I can’t think of a better autumn companion with whom to share the experience than you.
My father, after marrying my mother and leaving the States, made it a Sunday family tradition to spend the day at the farm. I believe he understood the soul and the creative mind needed a rural, pastoral escape from the city’s urban restlessness. He didn’t want to stray too far from his own roots as well.
The SUV is gassed up, multiple blankets are in the stow, and I’ve packed plenty of foodstuffs. A General Store and diner sit about a half-mile away along the route. We’ll stop for whatever we’ve forgotten. There’s plenty of wood source on the property for the fireplace.
Please don’t interpret my inviting you for a couple days with me as anything other than a safe, warm, soothing retreat into the heart of autumn. A mutual soul getaway both you and I could truly appreciate right about now.
Celibacy is so underrated.
If you’d prefer to keep me at arm’s length, by all means, I’ll gently and gracefully oblige. Your want is certainly my honor.
If, however, you find yourself curious about the safety of the interior of my arms or the headrest appeal of my broad shoulders, I’ll encourage you the trial.
As the fire blazes and the soft music soothes and the rustling leaves detach themselves reluctantly from the wind-swept maple trees, my arms may just be your chosen place of refuge.
And I’ll simply breathe on you through the night.
On Pamper-Her-Friday.
Will you come?
The very thought of you,
Rg2
____________
***
Pamper the woman . . . and keep her warm in autumn. -Rg2
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Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 