On The Couch

Angel Nash in the house!

It’s totally Pawesome to Meet and Greet you. Come and join me on the couch in my fabulous 53rd floor Manhattan Penthouse … Snuggle up and get cosy, My Lovelies. I shall ask my Butler James to buttle up some posh nosh for us to nibble whilst I natter.

I have tails to tell and candid canine confessions to make…

On the Couch with Angel

On the couch with Diva Dog and outrageous flirt Angel!

But Shh! Don’t tell anyone, especially not my Scottie boy,Hamish McTavish, back home in England’s green and pleasant lands. Dunno why, but My True Love is rather the jealous type. And I especially don’t want my arch frenemy Kimbles (that boyfriend nabbin’ biatch of a Bichon Frise) to snitch any little “Affairs de Coeur” I may or may not be conducting Stateside, just so she can get her manky paws on my boy. So, My lovelies, all these delicious little nibbles of ‘ANGEL CAKE’ are going to be our little secret!

Angel is a diva dog who has it all, beauty, fame and a luxurious uptown life in Manhattan with her doting Grannie and Butler James attending to all her copious ‘want, need, nows!’. What more could a girl want? When Angel meets a super cute boy, who happens to be an incognito King, she realises there is something missing from her life, the royal title of H.R.H Princess Angel to be exact! When her royal suitor bestows tasty treats and offers more, Angel’s dreams of social elevation go to her head. Our girl is on a mission to nab herself a crown and a rather yummy cake. She isn’t about to let the little matter of a true love back home in England spoil her plans. But when old frenemy Kimbles the Bichon biatch arrives in New York, and a blast or two from the past reappear, life becomes “it’s complicated” and Angel finds she has more than a touch of trouble on her delectable paws. Mischief and mayhem ensue as Angel is determined to have her crown and wear it and have her cake and eat it! Join our girl on the couch in her fabulous Manhattan Penthouse as she candidly reveals all in her cosy secret sharing sessions, with you, her Lovelies!

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English Rose



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Dancing to the Edge of Darkness

FLAMEAs the Orchestra struck up the music, Florence stood up, buying time smoothing down the front of her elegant satin evening gown and tucking a stray blonde hair behind her ear.Reluctantly taking the outstretched, wrinkled hand of her long time dancing partner, Old Nick, they glided out onto the dance floor. It hadn’t always been this way. Back in the day, Florence used to shiver in delightful anticipation when he reached out to her. The thrill of  being seen with rich and influential Nick Mephistopheles, with all eyes on them, was a complete power rush. When their first dance had begun all those years ago and her debonair partner requested the pleasure, she had never gave so much as a thought to the heavy price he would exact if she ever refused to dance to his tune.
Nick’s business practices were more than shady, but as long as she was on the receiving end of his largesse Florence really didn’t give a damn that her man had gone for the jugular of anyone who had opposed him. Florence only had to express a desire and it was hers for the taking; jewels, clothes, cars, homes and prestige. His power seduced her. She liked the hint of darkness that lurked beneath his suave and sophisticated exterior. She saw people were scared of Nick, he commanded respect. She liked that. Florence would coquettishly laugh and enquire with an engaging smile,
“Nick, just what is the secret of your success?”
“I’m a people person, I give them what they want, they give me what I want.” There was just a trace of coldness in his voice.
“I can see that, and you certainly give me what I want, but there’s more. What do you really do, Nick?”
“ You could say I’m a collector,” was the enigmatic reply. He didn’t chose to expand any further. His inscrutable eyes and cold smile closing down any further attempts at delving into his affairs. Was Nick married? Who knew. There were certainly lots of women. That didn’t really bother Florence much. She revelled in being the one he reached out to the most, the one on his arm on the red carpets, at all the swankiest parties, sat at his side on the private yachts and planes. There were whispers she had his ear, that gave Florence her own sort of power and influence, and she used it to full effect. The power felt good, even if it was by default. Florence was very grateful to Old Nick, back then, back in the day when the dance had just begun. His allure was strong, an intoxicating drug, and before long Florence was hooked.
“Nick, I love you. I’d do anything to repay your generosity,” she exclaimed the first time he had draped her in diamonds and fur.
“Oh, I guess your body and soul should be payment enough, is that acceptable, my Lovely?” he’d replied with a twinkle in his coal black eyes. She thought he had jested and laughingly agreed “Your terms are acceptable, Kind Sir!” And they were. Back then. Back in the day, when their dance had just begun. And so the deal was sealed.
Nick liked to party hard. Dancing was his thing. Elegant, suave, he moved like a panther eating up the dance floor. Women loved him, men wanted to be him, until they got to know Nick a bit better.He liked all eyes on him and he liked his own way. It wasn’t wise to cross him, he had a ruthless and vindictive streak with rivals in both the ball room and the board room. Nick had not lied about being a collector. As time passed and Florence proved her devotion, Nick brought her closer into his inner sanctum.
“Florence, your soul is mine I own you and I want to own all the others I send you to collect.”
How could she refuse? She was in too deep, he had seen to that. With a Siren’s call her beauty brought his hand picked victims to Nick’s lair. He gave the most amazing, lavish parties. His lifestyle was all high end luxury. It was all a game, a well paid dangerous game. Nick rewarded most handsomely when Florence performed. The glitter and glamour proved too seductive and Florence willingly accepted she had checked in all morality and conscience before taking to the dance floor with Mr Mephistopheles.
Tonight was different, Florence was tiring of their ‘Les Liaisons Dangereuses’ and she wanted out. Nick, sensing her indifference was not a guy to cross. He grew possessive and reminded Florence he owned her body and soul. The beautiful ball room had suddenly become a prison and her dancing parter her gaoler.
“When you chose to dance with the devil Florence, you knew there would be no way out…” His voice was menacing. Yes, she knew the score, and yes, she had sealed the deal regardless of the consequences, back then, back in the day.
But that was then. Nick was ageing and it was time for a new dancing partner. As the thought crossed her mind, she saw the Stranger and he saw her. And Nick saw him too. Savagely he grabbed her wrist, and snarled,
“Stay with me Florence. Better the devil you know…”
Florence broke free and without looking back made her way across the empty dance floor. The stranger seemed to be pulling her magnetically towards him. The room faded into blackness and all Florence could see was a numinous mist, with the beguiling stranger emitting an almost supernatural light. Music sublimely filled the ball room and she moved inexorably into his arms.
“Do you want to dance?” she whispered seductively.
“Are you willing to forsake all others for me, Florence?” his honeyed voice resonated deeply as he brushed her face with lips as cold  as the grave.
Florence was compelled, even though the touch of his skin brought shivers creeping along her spine, to whisper “yes…”
He held out his hand, and realising she did not know the Stranger’s name, yet he knew hers, Florence took a step back.
“Lucis Ferre,” he smiled, “I have been waiting for you.”
To the plaintive strains of Sibelius’ ‘Valse Triste’, Lucis and Florence glided across the vast expanse of an empty dance floor.

The Last Waltz would last forever. Florence had made her choice … Dancing with the devil to the very edge of darkness…

© Eily Nash 2014

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Requiem for a Lost Lover


“Come to me and be my wife, I will love you all my life! My love is pure, my love is true, all I have, I share with you. Come Beloved, bide with me, in perfect trust and harmony!”

 He once whispered those words of love to me. Our vows were sacred for all eternity. Alas, promises my beloved could not keep. Oh how my wounded heart did bleed and weep. You may well ask why did I not have eyes to see through his lies and mendacity? What was my crime or my sin? Why did He let the Stranger in? His words were callous, cruel and cold. It was not my fault jealousy took hold!

“I Loved you once, that much is true, until her beauty stole my heart from you. She is comely, my lover is fair, with eyes of blue and flaxen hair. Whilst you grew ragged, grey and old. ‘Tis your fault my Love grew cold!”

My tears they fell like bitter rain. Illusions shattered, piercing pain. In the winter of my heart, I vowed from her he would part. I grabbed a knife and plunged it deep, his life blood ebbed to eternal sleep. So now beneath the pure white snow, in the rich dark Earth deep below, lay two silver caskets filled with bones. By our silent grave, my ghost atones. Encased in ice, two hearts entwine. In Death’s embrace my Love is once more mine. In Death’s embrace my Love is forever mine. By my side eternally lays his head, even though he is long cold and dead.

© Eily Nash


Portobello Princess ♥

♥ ☆ ♥ For you Princess ♥ ☆ ♥All my Love Mummy ♥ ☆ ♥












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Lonely Loom

Deep within the darkest heart of Night

Dance slender beams of soft MoonLight

Penetrating through the dank and gloom

Falling upon a forbidding Castle Tower

Where sits a lovely Lady in her Bower

Lost in time, she works  her lonely Loom

A tide of tears falling upon ethereal hands

Entwined around enchanted, silken strands.

The Lady of Shalott Looking at Lancelot, 1894 - John William Waterhouse

The Lady of Shalott Looking at Lancelot, 1894 – John William Waterhouse

Taking numinous threads of silver and gold

A story of a  Knight’s chivalrous deeds unfolds

With armour, steel and steed, he rode to war

Forsaking his Lady Love on Sceptred shores.

Blithely breaking his promise of a Wedding band

       For the glory of King’s Crusades in a foreign Land

Her beloved sailed righteously across the seas

Enemy and Gallantry brought him to his knees.

For the Templar’s cause the Knight gave his life

Forfeiting his vow to make the Lady his wife

Falling on faraway fields, his life blood ebbed.

Love lives on, though her Knight is long dead.

Eons of time encroach on the shadows and gloom

Awaiting her Lover’s return, she sits by her  loom

Lingering midst rot and decay, still she trusts

Love eternal will raise him from ashes and dust.

Perchance, your steps  take you through the ruined walls of the Castle Keep, By pale moon light and night’s embrace, you may yet hear the Lady Weep.

© Eily Nash

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Dandelion Dreams


Sweet Dandelion

Do you wait patiently for me

To come along and set you free

I’ve heard plenty an aged tale told

of the dreams a Dandelion holds.

Is that so little wishing flower?

Do you have such magic power?

 I give you my dreams , fly free,

Bring my true love back to me!

Scatter through the fields and trees

Soft starburst on the gentle breeze

Treasured seed falls to Mother Earth

Within each one the promise of rebirth

…And so the dance of life goes on…

© Eily Nash
I took this photo of the  beautiful littleDandelions  on a perfect Summer day
in a lush field in Glastonbury, on the Sacred Isle of Avalon.
The words of the little poem were inspired by a place I love so much….
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The Veil


At the Twilight of the day

When the sun has died away

I dream of you standing there

Fading light upon your hair…

I am reaching for your hands

Across time’s shifting sands

Beloved, come to me, I implore

Entwine our Souls for evermore

Do I yearn for you in vain?

Do you not suffer as I do?

Hear me cry, feel my pain!

My aching Soul calls to you!

At the dying of the light

And the coming of the night

Like the ebb tide of the sea

You are fading far from me…

Alas our Love cannot prevail

From this place beyond the Veil

Adieu, Beloved, I go in Grace

Returning to Death’s dark embrace

 © Eily Nash


A Cypriot Sun set across Chrysochou Bay from the shores of Argaka

Posted in DEATH, GOSSAMER THREADS, MYTH, POETRY, SPIRITUALITY, Uncategorized, WRITING & BLOGGING | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments