Fear

 

Why not wear

Red converse high tops

If they make you feel

Red

 

Why not slurp

Your snow cone

If the sound

Makes you giggle

 

Why not burp

In contest with a child

If the gas

Needs release as well as a grin

 

Why not scratch

If the itch itches

Regardless

Where it lies

**sigh**

 

So

Why wear Nikes,

And wait for the ice to melt,

To silently pass the gas

Because we fear to be

 

How does fear

Affect

How and

Why we love?

 

Poet

DISTRACTIONS
            

Thoughts of you distract me
excite me, confuse me.
You put me to sleep and then awaken me
causing my breath to quicken.
Your unknown fragrance trails me,
a puppy looking for eternal,
yet often, elusive comfort.
Your shadow follows mine, follows me
constantly present to tingle and delight.
Have we met before
it feels so that we have.
Will we ever be?
For why do our distant movements
bring such pleasure, so tantalizing, so erotic.
Are we really apart?
Perhaps our minds have sought one another
Perhaps they know what we have yet to learn.
Maybe you have captured "my" mind,
do you care?

poet

"Cresting

i need you
to silence me
with a kiss, a caress
when i can scarcely catch my breath
beneath that mist of salty sweat
beading down my marbled breast
glistening like those briny bubbles
creasting on the waves

i need you
to save me
with a candle with a flame
let me tremble 'neath the pain
let me wriggle like a rattlesnake
sliding down beneath the wake
that valleys 'twixt the extasy
creasting on the waves

i need you
to enslave me
with a whisper, with a whip
let it blister, let it rip
let it whistle til i slip
along the briny bubbles
creasting on the waves

poet

Anonymity

 

We seek anonymity,

As a child we hide behind

Our parents legs

Shyly peeking around

Seeing and yet

Not wanting to be seen.

 

Why be alone,

Not realized

Transparent without

Substance.

Fleeting shadows

Partially illuminated,

Disparate light

Of evening’s candle

Not really seen

Not really known.

 

Night fog, delicate

Wisps across the

Morning glade

Dissipated by

The light of day

Gone forevermore

Was it ever there?

 

Wayward rose

Embedded in stone,

Delicate rose, each

Petal the epitome

Of symmetry.

Shallow earth bound

Scorched in risen sun

Singular, alone,

Not rooted in

Self, nourishment

Drawn not

From earth’s collective

Well-spring.

 

Solitary diamond

Brilliant, to be

Seen, worn in

Celebration of

Rich garments

Not kept in

A box, hid in

A drawer.

 

Why hide the

Rose, why store

The diamond,

Why be the fleeting

Wisp of thought

When the smell of

The roses by the dozen

Or the gems embedded

In the necklace

On a curved neck

Provides the fullness

Of life, the declaration

Of community,

No longer

Seeking anonymity?

 

 

Shall we just be

Captured of the mind?

Never!

I no longer ask

I demand,

Perfection,

Defined

Of the mind,

I cannot demand

Of yours,

Only desire.

 

poet

aging harlot

who am I ?
where did I go?
how did I come to be
A stranger in a mirror
looking back at me?
I remember a younger face
that once looked back.
this other person has
enjoyed life though,
seen many wonderful things,
and have a happiness inside
that shines through the
wrinkled face looking back
at me..
yet I search
for that which seems missing
my head hurts because, but
I sample the chocolates
taking a bite
and if it is offensive
leave half behind

poet

Words

 

Though words

Like the wind are not

Realized solely by creation

But through experience

 

Expressions of love

Void the embrace

Can be as meaningless

As a kite on a windless day

 

The soar of the eagle

Is effortless

Upon a robust wind

Yet regal

With wings spread in artful motion

 

Words lie dormant

As the leaf on the ground

When the wind absent of emotion

Takes no action upon the heart

 

Prose is ink on the paper

And stirs not the heart

If not accompanied

By the purposefulness of action

 

Like the wind

Action begets meaning

Whether it is the leaf

Or the heart

 

Poet

 

Events

 

 

Rain droplets

Make swirls

 

Stiff breezes

Sway limbs

 

Falling trees

Do make noise

 

Chocolate Kisses

Taste sweet

 

You

Create smiles

 

All naturally

 

poet

 

Her Hand

 

Alabaster,

Finely Chiseled

Piano Elegant.

Softly beckoning

poet

the road

 

the road

may be worn

from smiles traveled

from pleasures felt,

through experiences

memories are to be made

and savored

only

when the end

of the road

is in sight

not before

now we must

be on

think

Miss Pink

 

poet

Proof

 

At bedtime

The night before

As the tinsel fell from the tree

Among the scented pine needles

And the angel viewed from above

It was all about Santa.

 

The smile

Was altered

The result

Under the pillow

A tooth for a quarter

It was all about the fairy.

 

The frenzy

Found every bush

Every blade of grass

Hid the prize

As the children ran rampant

It was all about the bunny.

 

Each princess

In her fairy dream

All want one guy

To prove

That they are not all the same

 

Each confession

In the booth

With heads bowed

And hands clasped

It is all about belief.

 

Which is your fantasy?

Each

Takes faith

And gives.

In return.

 

My fantasy

Is you wanting me

So much

That you will take

The first step.

 

poet