Category Archives: romance

Lay

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Careful-
With that song
and dance, the one that tweaks their
minds. By chance,
do you rent your inspiration?
Your soul, your lust and legislation
all inclusive-
gone buffet.

A little here and there’s Okay.

Take salad tongs
to prep your bowl
with crawfish, okra,
mac and rolls.
And when the trip down line’s complete,
you feel the ache swell in your feet.

Then I could sit and give massage
til metaphors spill
and rhymes barrage.
The song transforms from swing to pop
a subtle lay with ballad stops.

The night with moonlight’s shade is set,
and you and I,

we pirouette.

Untitled

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My vista has left.

It got up and walked away,
taking its burgeoning poetry
and florets of blush
just beyond the hill-
where I last see a wrinkle
in the day.

Perhaps, it will sail away
and live at sea, content in knowing
that final curtains are best
without remorse. Every green patch
a relic of what was bewitching for me.

Tossed by storms in darkness,
with no one to notice.
Cowed in heat and sun.
Awoken in grey mists
that cling and impede
their run.

Maybe, one day it will land aground
after years adrift. Someone will see
and write words that begin a scene anew.

The beauty of the vista, adorned
with yearning – causes me to run
with all abandon
to meet the last wrinkle
of the day.

*****************
It is National Poetry Writing Month. I’ve participated in the past, but I don’t think I will this year – time will not allow me a post every day. I’ve been on a bit of a down-turn lately with inspiration for writing and experiencing my own emotional lows. This poem conveys a little of that struggle, the loss of “vision” – though I’m not sure I’m totally happy with it. I share it anyway, as a work in progress, because writing is something I must continue to do.

I don’t know why, I just do. I hope readers will continue to read.

All the best.

Supposed

5 Replies

Not proven,

more-so in being,
taking its place within a theorem
of tact and diplomacy.

A region in space
that local weather might clear away
to see, but not believe-
though purpose is reason enough.

It can be filled with sun or cats –
Or emptied of lust and water.

In time, supposing-lovers meet.
There is something curved about the form,
with gentle perceptions
arc and whorled but not touching.
Gaps are infused with
first blush – in dawning fashion.
A silhouette slowly fills to capacity,
their conclusions unite
with no sound-

only an apparition
of what could be true
and the assumption of profession.

 

Touch

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Likened to an oval space
where I’m pressing to the wall
and move ’round its circumference
with caution and recall.

I sense it as a darkened play
just beyond my reach,
and substance in the shadows
are thin and disbelieved.

Her touch, in words, assuages fear-
a hold to ban the ill,
the empty holes and voids,
the impressions- touches fill.

Grip me with affection’s tongue
fast with lake and sun,
embrace me with your tumult
that leads us – come undone.

Such is this, caress’ way
in aftermath beyond,
a soothing wisp, a kiss she shares
and looming dark is gone.

corners

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I see them aloft-
your dreams,
high above your head-
something in pastels
shaded with deep red
and bold charcoal lines.

And the way
you look at these-
upward
with widened eyes-
draws me into your bliss,

warm and nestled
sitting in the corners
of your smile.

Immersion

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It seems like a metamorphosis
of sorts.
There is evolution of the language
in the shade of pines,
assuaged by a sun companion,
the complexities of the song
from her secret heart-
a pastorale,
that lures and covers me.

I become sacrificial
and my tongue,
a voice in the chorus,
melds with the music.
A heightened song
of concurrence-
wrapped in vines of honeysuckle,
floating in basins of still water.
Ringing true, long after
the last word is uttered
in near, deep silence.

blink

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In the green, a want
is growing – still and hopeful-
rapt. And knowing that the spell
is brief,
a pin-point moment -lust-
a thief glances – no-
it clutches
hold and deepens,
dilates what was touched
and seasoned.
Lines and edges, flecks and flux
core and flesh, entwined amok.
And somehow, moments in the end
a cured and coupled image
penned, a brush too lightly
to offend,
and focused there,
she starts again.

noted

6 Replies

it begins as a wisp
neither taut nor explicit
a scribbled idea
on a plain yellow post-it,
sitting for weeks
til the stickiness faded
then moved ’round the table
it’s purpose degraded
and ultimately lands
in pile, curled – misled
like so many of my thoughts
of desire go unread.

even tide

1 Reply

Somewhere, the moonlight
turned to give credence
to her tangled removing.
A breaker rolled in
that enticed
and embraced her.
Demands awakened-
her own hurt and pooling.

Somehow, a surging rush
made the unknown electric.
Bristling with joy,
fingered in choosing,
a lover in darkness,
confessing and soothing.