Poetry · relationships · sex

Winter – Poem

WINTER

When first you entered the room

parchment face blushed and frozen red

I did not recognize the man

The hurried soul escaping bitter winds pain.

 

Your hands chapped and worn

masculine with talents beyond the keyboard

We would play music tonight.

 

I noticed your breath

As you removed your navy coat

button by button reveling

as slow as a burlesque striptease

what was to come.

 

How I would melt you

Cupping your face in my warm dark hands

blowing life into your mouth

with kisses and probing tongue.

 

Parchment turnstiles to peach

And peach to sweating red

Ink slicked across composition sheets

I warm your thighs entwined with mine.

Smooth arched shoulders dance,

My breast pressed beneath your heaving weight.

 

This would be the chest I would dream on tonight

After the winter breeze.

DIH 12/01/18
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Poetry

Oh, honey

IMG_4333

 

OH, HONEY

Oh, honey, you can’t break me.

Your words may bite and claw

Piercing eyes like jagged glass

Whipping words scar my back

You may even dare to touch me

Break me?

NO!

I am made of steel and ice

Wit with venom and destroying vice

Between my thighs, I can crush your dreams

Destroy an ego

Leave you crawling on your knees.

Tell me now who rules the roost

Pumps your manhood

And rips your resolve.

Then offer balm to heal your wounds

Powder puff your ass

And smack it too.

Oh, baby boy

You can not break me.

I am a mystery you will never solve.

DIH 11/28/18

death · Poetry

Tired of the Dead


TIRED OF THE DEAD

Movies I've loved
Credits I've read
And everyone's dead

Funerals and wakes
Discussions and reunions

"I heard you died."
"He's not dead yet?"
"They're both gone."

My best friend
My sister
My brother
My father

The dead frozen bird
in my path...

A bird

I've been unhinged since
this sparrow left the guf

My brother needs a kidney
the one who isn't dead
it looms again.

circling

In no particual order
death has plagued me

I tire of the dead.

Leaving sadness
mourning
loneliness
Rejection from life
Most important
leaving me.

The farmer's in the Dell
the game has begun
and the cheese stands alone.

As always
I'm the cheese.

My dog died
The pull to follow
was enormous

So many years I wished for death
Now that I choose life
everyone leaves.

I didn't mean to spoil the party.

Can't have children.
Infatuations fail.
Who would want this broken being

For a moment there
I forgot who I was

People die every second
It's the order of things
I doesn't stop it.

It can stop me.

I am sick and tired of the dead.
I want to have a life
be a wife
love a child
time grows shorter
Pointless.

I'll wallow here for a while
Make yourselves some tea
brother
sister
father
friend.
the frozen sparrow.
Not me.

DIH 11/25/18
Meds

Pondering about Love.

I’ve always pictured myself as a spinster.

Never finding that person to share a lifetime with no matter how short or long.

I don’t like one night stands.

I don’t like players or games.

I don’t like gaudy displays.

Or conceited egos.

Just to have someone to talk with and walk with and tell me I’m their own.

As the poem goes, would be nice.

Something someone said put these things in my mind

Making me wonder if I’m meant to be alone.

I write of soulmates.

Is that childish? Made from fairytales and other dreams.

I write of the little prince.

Which has nothing to do with riches or titles.

Rather with loneliness

From the children’s tale. The Little Prince.

And I being the fox, his friend.

I believe love and friendship should be one.

Your mate should be your best friend.

I fall in love too easy

Just to be hurt when they say goodbye.

Sex to me isn’t a sport.

So I guess I’m outta the whole LOVE game.

Back to being a Spinster….

DIH-11/23/18

Poetry

Gesture

Gesture

I took it
A sudden tap of a finger
and you were mine
No one noticed as I captured your face
the gentle smoothness which lay across your frame

I studied every muscle and layered flesh in your profile
where the cheeks began
how the nose extended so romanesque
each wrinkle of the crows nesting by each lid

how lucky they must be
to come to you each eve and nestel in each line
roosting on that face

I captured your brow
how it raises and lowers when laughing
a suble smile or smirk

Never may I
stroke those cheeks
create a smile 
that elusive line from edge to corner
could I make you smile again?

Two impossibilities in one phrase
your smile and my presence
Though, I caught you
a simple touch
and your picture was mine.

DIH 11/22/18
depression · rant · Thoughts

Let me figure it out…

Walked as usual. Didn’t stretch before walk like an idiot and hurt my calf. So I stretched when I got home. Almost back to normal.

Went for a slow walk, but it was too cold and I was underdressed.

Got some food. Always a plus

Feeling good. Turn the corner and…

Distressing

 

How the hell do you process this? Is it a sign? Or simply some poor dead bird. Circle of life type thing.

This summer a hummingbird flew right in front of me and let me take pictures of him as he fed.

hummingbird

 

The bird doesn’t mean death literally. Just metaphysically. The hummingbird means good things for me.

So why am I depressed? Fucking TurkeyDay.

I cooked the turkey. Cooked another one and now I have to do it again. I just want to be alone right now with some peace and quiet so I can write.

NOPE. Neighbors home with a toddler.

I’m going to take something, drink some sleepytime, plug up my ears and call it a day.

Nothing accomplished. I’ll try another poem. I want to work on the short story, but I need complete silence for that.

This is gonna have to do for today. Sorry. The pictures are mine.