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.
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
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.
She stands in red
While the world sees black
Veiled and hidden
She shall smile no more
and gently fade away.
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
The dead frozen bird
in my path...
I've been unhinged since
this sparrow left the guf
My brother needs a kidney
the one who isn't dead
it looms again.
In no particual order
death has plagued me
I tire of the dead.
Rejection from life
The farmer's in the Dell
the game has begun
and the cheese stands alone.
I'm the cheese.
My dog died
The pull to follow
So many years I wished for death
Now that I choose life
I didn't mean to spoil the party.
Can't have children.
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
I'll wallow here for a while
Make yourselves some tea
the frozen sparrow.
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….
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.
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…
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.
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.