Intoxyc8me's blog: "Writers & Lovers"

Top 10 Things Poets Shouldn't Worry About by LateNiteFantasy© with love Top 10 Things Poets Shouldn't Worry About A sage once remarked that "Worry is like a rocking chair: It'll keep you busy but won't Take you anywhere." Poets tend to place too Much emphasis on what Others think about their work, Thus here are the top ten things We shouldn't worry about. 10. The correct style. There is no such thing. 9. If others will like my poem. 8. Has the theme been addressed before. 7. Will it be misunderstood? 6. Is it politically correct. 5. Is it too sexual. 4. Will it be offensive? 3. Have I rewritten it enough times? 2. Will anyone read it? 1. I shoudn't be writing. We have as much right as anyone To write poetry or any other style You may chose. Let your heart dictate The message. "Don't worry, write happy."

Lavender Love by LateNiteFantasy© From seed I grew, like lavender, soaking up sunshine. At night, I dozed under the watchful eyes of the Cosmos. Morning dew dripped on my petals. I blossomed and offered myself to you... my blooms pieced and dried, to scent your clothes and linens. From my essence, I gave you aromatic oil, to soften your skin, perfume your bath, Soothing you with me. For I am lavender, fragrant with love.

Sleeping Beauty by LateNiteFantasy© In dreamscape she flew, The stunning Sleeping Beauty, Cursed to sleep for a hundred years. Her silken hair fanned across white satin, Rosy lips slightly parted. Her dreams were not of Castles in the sky, Or happily ever after. Vibrant and all woman, She dreamt of feminine desires, The kind wiles are composed of. In her dreams, she saw visions Of wonderful substance, The stuff that female dreams Are made of. Exquisite imagery radiated Like a kaleidoscope Behind her closed smoky eyes, As male appendages of love, Paraded before her, Dipping and dancing In perfect form. Her perfect lips smiled With wanton delight, As she inspected every one. Every pore, every shiny inch, Each vein and every ridge, She explicitly explored, Not missing a delectable spot. First, she employed her finger To trace every curve and arch. Next, she used a strand Of her glossy soft hair To tease and tickle, Finally, using a ribbon To measure length and girth. Secretly, she loved the curse Placed upon her form, For it gave her the pleasure Of a hundred years To dream the champion of dreams That sensual woman of every age All feverishly wish for.

Candle Wax Drips by LateNiteFantasy© Candle wax drips, As shadows dance. Midnight chimes desire, When Lovers meld as one. As shadows dance, Whispered nothings purr. When Lovers meld as one, Satin slides across the bed. Whispered nothings purr, As skin meets skin. Satin slides across the bed, In time with rapid pulse. As skin meets skin, Delicious sin begins In time with rapid pulse. Intrigue begets exploration. Delicious sin begins, When inhibitions dissolve. Intrigue begets exploration, Playing with fire a new game. When inhibitions dissolve, Midnight chimes desire. Playing with fire a new game, Candle wax drips.

Ink Drop From Her Quill by LateNiteFantasy© Mournful is the hand that dips the quill, whose feathery and light graces, anticipates brush strokes. Reluctant are the words lingering above a beige colored scroll. Lonely ink traveling as if weighted in air. A splash of onyx, like a mascara tinged teardrop. Pupils fixed on this primitive art searching, reaching and contemplating. Is the answer there? Can it be found, in the ink drop, from her quill?

A Poetic Dance by LateNiteFantasy© a poetic dance, indeed, have we for no one else but us to see the mingling of mutual words far from noisy, milling herds, poems I write to myself thoughts I leave on the shelf I fold them into paper planes flick them through the e-mail lanes, I love life, in all it’s guises small, medium and large sizes I walk both beach and mountain trail check my Box each day for mail, some days there’s a snip from you I hold it close, that’s what I do smile and hope some day we meet with sense to stay on our feet, or maybe not (I smile a bit) never know what parts might fit never say never, we might be wrong enjoy life, and live it long ….

The Love Dream by LateNiteFantasy© Love is but a dream, a wastrel’s pipe- packed with hope and good cheer and luck. Once lit, it burns bright then slowly embers itself out; emptied ashes disintegrate and blow away on the wind.

Behind Closed Eyes by LateNiteFantasy© When I close my eyes a beautiful world appears ...a world of wonderment and not too many tears. The dreams and laughter of a lifetime are encompassed there; The effervescent hopes and tenderness of years. Yet when my eyes are opened, I see reality. I see the way things are and the way they have to be. And so I resolutely straighten my shoulders and hold my head high-- To go on and march down the road and do what I can to make it alrigh'. But in the quiet times, behind closed eyes, I visit that sacred place. I lie there and I sigh...with a soft smile upon my face.

The Promise by LateNiteFantasy© Along His path He finds her; charred and broken Her tortured soul laid open; bleeding and raw He lifts her up and cradles her in His hands. He spies a tiny ember... a spark of life left behind Tenderly He cleans the wounds, washing away the ashes of distrust and the crust of despair He sees her promise Gently He blows upon the tiny flame igniting the desires... hidden by a lifetime of pain. The fire burns hot; removing the dross of pain and broken trust He protects that gentle flame cupping His hands about it keeping the winds at bay Using His own light, He shows her the way; along the path to completeness He holds her enraptured offering her the freedom within the bonds Guiding her to the light Finally, she is whole.