Response to David’s poem

High Tide and Low

 

Beneath the full moon or new, tides wash away

the dust of troubles found when we two turn

back to look at yesterdays, forgetful

of the day dreams we hold close to our hearts.

Sounds of surf pounding echo to remind

us that the beat of our life’s tempo moves

as we want – dancing, strolling or drifting

along the courses we set – no one else

 

tells us how to live our lives. I hold dreams,

share them with you when it seems you have lost

the sparkle of evening stars from your eyes,

look to you when my own green fades to pale

reflections in a somewhere honeymoon

on a beach under full moon and clear sky.

 

Blustery Day Musings

On A Windy Day Such As This

 

Wind howls, glass panes rattle, separate

me from the outside world – hot and humid;

I’d step out on the ledge if they opened,

just for a breath of air not over-cooled.

 

I’d drink in the atmosphere, relishing

freedom in space all around me – heaven

to beat the hell out of where I’m sitting,

trapped by responsibility, not joy.

 

Curtain covered windows block my escape,

even the brief glimpses offered by this

glass cage high in the ivory tower

don’t satisfy this desire to run.

 

I would dance with the storm-scattered debris,

relish it with abandon – if only…

 

 

Odd little poem

Paint Curiousity

Your interest waxes and wanes with the moon.
Emotions hidden beneath a blanket,
star-dark or moonlit, refuse to come out.
I am used to your cave, with its darkness
swallowing the edges of you; I know
you exist even when I cannot see
inside to that place you curl around, lost
to me * and the world * licking wounds, angry
at the sound of life lived, even your own.
The challenge to take a breath, let it out,
with no fear of rebuke, overwhelms me
on a good day -crushes me on a bad.

I would paint you with curiosity
if I could find colors to match your mood.

 

Red Lady Blue

Passion’s Dichotomy

Wanting the blue lady in red, passion’s
dichotomy - half revealed, half hidden
behind the moon, not in the sun, always
alone inside herself; she is open
to possibilities, closed to
the pain of desire unshared, unspent
even as experience has taught her
to revel in want, take joy in being
together -or alone - she has issues
of trust, of love and lust, intimacy
never easily opened, once released,
flows freely from within her giving heart.

Coax this woman from her shell, paint her red
blush across her blue spread her with your love.

 

The One They Watch

The One They Watch

 

I am no longer the one they gaze at,

walking into walls for a glimpse of hip

and tight tee. My curves are rounder, fuller

than thin, lithe girls not yet woman enough

to teach them manners and mischief alike.

At peace with the body of goddess,

rather than nymph, I walk with head held high,

my stride not a strut, and yet still with wiggle

enough to entice the glance of the men

who know this experience and beauty

are better than hips bones and odd angles,

who can tell by the tilt of smile, I’m real.

 

 

Warning…

Severe Weather Alert

 

Electricity fills the air, unites

opposite sides of the room. Expanding,

it wraps around everyone, circles us

and pulls tight. Bodies press close together,

flesh prickles with contact, sweat beads beneath

clothing slide between breasts, trickle slowly

reaching down toward a mounting desire.

We are charged particles, bouncing clear of

one another, clinging when we connect.

Inhibition snaps with the crackling

tension, thunder-claps of lust exploding

unspoken words into silent shudders.

 

In a brief collective murmur, we sigh

and wish for the sweet release of the rain.

 

 

Narcissus

Deep Rooted Want

She holds out fingertips, touches Spring-blooms.
Yellow and white blossoms with narrow leaves
grow so innocently beside her path.
She caresses petals, pleasure courses
through, moves her from stalk to stamen, heady
perfume spills into the air with a puff,
pollinating her memory senses.
Beneath soil, buried deep, bulbous heart,
swollen enough to rupture above ground,
flowers; its cup-shaped center offering
her eyes a resting place to remember.
It is an echo of want from a past
too long gone to recapture, a mirror,
a reflection – romance, passion and love.

 

 

When I found you…

When with You

I feel you - inside - not the physical
hot, hardness of you, but the gentleness,
the soft tenderness whispering to me
when you hold me close enough to breathe in.
 
I want you - inside - the physical heat
that pulses in time with both our heartbeats;
your eyes caressing me, words unspoken
between us speak volumes - what, we can’t say.
 
Caught in my throat, unsafe emotions choke;
I beg for their release.  You brush my cheek
freeing the passion I hold so tightly.
One touch of your lips on mine - I am lost.
 
I know I could cry with you - for you, love
and laugh, rant and rave - I could be just - me.

 

Where’s the Mystery?

Mystery Enough

My toes buried in the fresh grass, I think
of times not yet spent tangled together
moments when the world disappears, it’s just
us - two people unfamiliar after
all these years of knowing one another.
 
What secrets remain hidden inside you
for me to find - are they anything close
to those I keep locked securely in me?
And what temptation can I provide you
to reveal yourself? What can I offer
in return for your trust - a piece of me
not already promised? You can have it
all - I want no more secrets between us -
this passion serves as mystery enough.

 

 

Bathing in the Storm

Stepping into the Bath

When stormy brews in the blue of his eyes
I hear thunder roll through my body and know
rain and lightning approach to bathe me;
ecstasy in my forecast as the clouds build high
along the western edges of my awareness.

My body dampens with the droplets, dew
moist and warm as one front meets the other.
I toss my head back, and so exposed,
offer myself up, no sacrifice, to pleasure.
His tempest cleanses my soul, immersed
in his desire, I am purified from the inside - out.

Generations are born in this passion’s maelstrom.