Enchanté monsieur.
Oooh la la, but oui monsieur, part my quivering lips with your mere words, enchanté, your fingers
caress explosions from volcanos long dead.
The heat of my passion boils, you have cooked Hors D'oeuvre, cherie,
and are needed to try your creation.
I lick your phalange with a mince look in my eye, catch you looking all
over, oh monsieur, I nearly scream 'take me' nearly I said, I am in control here.
Your mouth takes that which
is offered, turns a pancake into syrup coated fillet mignon, moist, succulent, and very rare, remember that sir,
as you feast.
For I remember nothing now, the shards of energy shooting like the sun from an exploding nucleii,
a starburst through the solar system of my nervous system.
The radiation affects the neurons that is my brain, sends
chaos reigning down, a polite, responsive moan escapes the atmosphere, only then do I hear the ministrations of your
intent.
The sun bursts another corona, another wave into space, I signed a contract with God, a hidden clause, when
confronted with an expert mouth, ones mind must remain intact; I forfeit,
with you monsieur, lunch is served.
Two
Seas of Love
She stands so solid, on
a sea of gold corn, fields stretch for miles in the place she was born, he stands there hovering over a sea of blue, endless horizons and plenty to do.
Waves
enter both realms washing their presence, with delights of love and human essence, hers' whispy and light in
autumnal breeze, his dancing and playful despite winters freeze.
Combine harvesters plow through that field
of gold, Ships hew the deep blue with bowsprits so bold, Dust and spray jump and mingle in the air and compound
in unison love, devil may care.
Hearts in the cornfield, hearts in the sea, hearts together, a rare unity, eyes
that observe each others domain, both visions dance in summers' warm rain.
The sea ebbs and flows and stays
the same place The golden corn grows in that special warm space, Their hands never touch yet their hearts are
one, like sea and field, natures' work done.
Whales Song ( for Susan)
They're the leviathans of
the deep, mournful singers whose songs reach out, across many oceans and seas, calling for their families wherever
they may roam, in a deep blue playground of bittersweet memories Whales song lingers on.
She is alone, a cow
with her grown son, singing her way to a new beginning, following the herd to Hawaii and points, North and South, Her
song arching out for all to hear some far, some near, some deaf to her whales song.
Her path takes her many places, and
one day a new face appears, sings back to her in unison, He, from a point so far away, but his resonance echoes
deep channels across oceans floor, echoes to Whales Song.
And they meet, mid ocean, and frollick in the gay
abandon of knowingness, Singing the same tune play the same games, swimming the same channels and attuned, they
go on singing each others Whale Song, together.
A Five Course
Meal
Starter
Like a bowl of soup, warmth
to my lips, embraces my throat in a dish of pure awakening.
Entree
A delicacy of nature's best, She
melts in my mouth and settles like a caress from heaven.
Side
A concoction of lifes platter, immeasurably
enhanced by time and living, and sits beside me, a true accomplishment.
Main
What a sizzler, flowing
juices to my touch, hot sensual exquisiteness, a rarity dancing circles around my plate.
Dessert
She loves me, And I her,
forever it seems, her ice cream to my maple syrup, and left untouched we melt in each others nearness.
It Started
with an Online Chat
Yeah, we
talked talked for the first time on the phone our loneliness quashed with nervous words and platitudes, once uttered
online the PC our only touch, but now, she is real, breathing love to my ear.
It started with a chat, helping
a sufferer through her marital breakup and drunk husband trouble, she and I advising with no clue who we were until
I passed my chat logon's and she called me up later, thank you God.
"Your photo is cute, in a rugged sort of way, and
I like your name, sounds.......different", four hours later, then five days, we spoke, and it was real then, even though the
net was real too, but just hearing her breathe made the difference.
Now we are crazy, crazy in love, crazy
writing letters, crazy making phonecalls long distance, insane with the utter belief we love each other immensely.
I
sit here in New Zealand, 8.57pm and she is asleep dreaming of me in the US Virgin Islands under tropic night sky, I
dream of her when I am awake and of us holding hands and walking in white coral sands.
I dream of her when I
can, when I least expect to dream of anything, I have her photo, she smiles at me daily and when she rings, I see
and hear her, one day we will add touch, physicality, yet we touch each other now, not the same.
Yes, I dream, and she dreams and
no one would ever have dreamt it possible in the real world.
Watching her die
Do you stand in the room?
Everyone in gloom,
Do you see the dancer before
you?
Or do you see the cancer?
Can you see her yellowd face?
The pain etched strangely,
Do you touch her skin?
Cant you touch her within?
Are you crying?
Is she dying?
Will you doubt her life?
Can you forget her strife?
Will you marvel
At what she has done?
Will remembrance be strong?
Or all her memories gone?
Theres no shame,
You're not to blame.
Take heart in her love
She gave to many,
Her life being shared
Did you get any?
Give some back in her hour
of need
Don't see her bleed
Make it OK,
Dont let her stay.
And pray that her pain
Is short once again,
Give her you,
She will help you through.
Captain, My Father
The gentleman sailor, strong
as oak, tough as teak, finds it hard in this hour, to speak.
The sailor's daughter, strong but weak, butterflies
speak, whispers of hope, give him some rope.
The sailor poet, feels the pain, of his fellow mariner, pass
the wind back to the storm again.
In her hour of need, the angels fly, are the butterflies, swimming on
tears, carrying his fears.
The time for friends, to lend a back, carry some slack, take the weight, from
her father's fate.
Whatever we think, the sailor won't sink, but gracefully sail, like the mighty whale, out
to his home, the sea.
Have hope, hold tight, take hold of your might, your power to love the sailor dad, in
his sailing hour.
Ghosts of the Abyss
There's a shade of grey, walking
the fine line of black and white off the edge, of an abyss to oblivion, she shrieks in perceived pain, the torment
of souls striking.
You approach, inquisitive as to why she walks and doesn't fly into the yawning gap, her
screams resonate eardrum to eardrum pain flies, pierces the synapses, understanding billows forth.
She looks
at you then, eyes searching your soul, deep into the heart, the abyss flashes through your mind and you race to protect
your own, yet in so doing you see her plight, her ghosts, and you cry.
You reach out, touch her hand and her
heart, her torment carry the burden of her courage with you together, you walk away from the edge, in so doing, the
ghosts flee, out of her soul, strike paths for the abyss, their home.
She slumps, freed, her realisation a weary
grey on her mask your hand elicits a smile, a wan thank you, a happy retort now, her face, once grey now alight in
gold you touch her again, for life.
Rue the Day
Look upon an enigmatic smile,
thrust stainless steel crossed
swords
into a deceitful heart,
see lifelessness flow out,
a sign of the traitor, gaze
upon the same face
see the smile turn up into
an uproarious laugh,
and wonder at the dementia
of devil worship.
Love has a cruel sense of
drama,
cuts deep into the maw of
conscience
plies its' trade under the
guise of hope,
yet under those blades,
it shines, blood red, and
kills.
A twist of fate?
Nay, the sad end to a sad
start,
only truth always glows,
the face of true love is tight
lipped abandonment,
the taste of victory in the
passion of a lasting kiss,
not the penny-pinching snatch
of lust,
and that glowing knowing smile.
Black Food
She stands there, tantalisingly, at
the foot of the bed.
Black baby doll, sheer, sillk stockings shiny, in the early morning glow.
A smile
on her face, teasing, and enticing licks ruby red lips, her tongue.
I pull the covers to my chin, naked, ready
to be consumed pass my glaze to her laced V.
She climbs on the bed, that look, only hers, for me walks towards
her goal.
I close my eyes and think 'maneater'.
Feel her toes of one foot, trace a delicate line over a chest now
heaving with anticipation.
A shiver escapes, shakes pores open as her slender foot traces a trail down to my
groin, groan.....
I see her smile, brings her hand from behind her back, a pikelet, with strawberry jam, and
whipped cream.
She bites into it, jam on her lips, whipped cream oozing over a tongue that dances delight, and
hunger.
Lick my lips, and she asks- "Breakfast, honey, or, or..." she smiles deliciously, seductive.
I
admire her again, black lace, black silk, red red lips and white chin, my tummy rumbles, but deep.
Eternity just is......
Sit here with broken heart, a head caved-in in grief.
Solitude cries a hungry wolf, baying
through a wilderness of an empty apartment, the scent of your gaminess long wafted from barren portals.
I
form paper mache clowns to tease my sense of self, laugh at me like I do at Oprah, when she has some fat woman on saying
this is her fourth diet, and it works!
The landlord my only visitor, said he was sorry, he liked her too, I
just spat in a pair of discarded Nikes, rang her number over again, hearing the footprints of the busy signal.
Somehow
the barrel of the 12 guage didn't seem big enough.
I lived this way for forty five years, one love, never held,
never forgotten, cried every anniversary, made your favourite Mocha Spider, with coke, hoped the door would knock.
You'd
be welcome, always.
I thought I saw you once, knew it was a dream, you were too young, still it made me go home
and open the album, touch you one more time, just there where we spent eons playing.
The doctor diagnosed me
clinically deranged, you have that affect on people, I so hope your future loves loved you like I still do.
Oh Baby
Ooh baby lick my lips sup of my desire play me like a cello bass moans and highs reaching for a climatic crescendo.
When
blue tunes set erotic mood sway with sensation love elevation yearn for release a wave washes memories away.
On
the morn life is reborn made anew with vigourous passion a symphony erupted now lava cools time for life.
The Lady and the Dumps
She smiles a crooked grin, cries ruefully
in a coffee cup that's brim full of salty tears, tries to drink her misery it only gets worse.
He tries a
smile, here and there, adds sugar and a touch of humour, yet still the salt out-tastes his earnest intentions,
what to do?
Changes the subject many times, yet through the screen her misery explodes, sending sounds of
harshness and desperation to all who see.
They talk about the small things, try to focus away from the area of
deep concern, she warms a little, yet another subject brings a misery face, they find themselves trying to float.
He
suggests she read a poem or two, maybe a couplet here and there, his ones of course, they make her smile, so she
does, and she feels his words, touches a place she had forgotten.
Her humanity! Eaten away by self, slowly comes
to the realisation her depression is a self generated thing, beats a hasty retreat into reality comes to the conclusion,
it's nothing.
They taste the new glass of wine, poured from the meeting of minds, an aroma of love and understanding tinged
with the reality of distance, yet the taste is no longer bittersweet.
They raise their glass, sup of each other, a
problem shared, a problem halved, the salty tears washed away and replaced with a certain sureness that things will
be, suddenly smiley faces replace the gloom.
Mothers Day
She appeared before me, a
vision someone dancing my heart to her strings calling my mind to place and sending me reeling off, into empty
space, But not so empty, you understand.
Bearing the weight of matrimony, to me, we're together but free, and
a baby cries not once but twice two girls, how nice and wife becomes mother and me the lover sometimes, but father
most.
Each day, once a year we honour her, the bearer of humanity, saver of insanity, put her high upon the
pedestal, ensuring her efforts rewarded, never let her fall.
Mother, my children are you, your effort your
time, my crime to be a man, a father supportive and loving but not the moving feast that is their mother.
Every
day of the year, it's quite clear, is mothers day never sway from respecting her efforts touting her rewards placing
her children where she stands, Mother and children hand in hand.
A tribute for all mothers, but this was written
for Marita, my wife, in 1999.
The Old Couple
This poem is a story about
two old people who religiously walk past our house every night at 730pm, holding hands, and never smiling. But come rain,
hail, wind, whatever, they have done it every night since we have been here (6 years). God only knows how long before we came
to this neighbourhood.
The twilight years have burned
their faces,
the street their picture board,
the buses pass
and children laugh
at the ancient love they share.
Nightly the trodden paths
are beaten by their tread,
hands linked in bondage
heads bowed to the wind
I ask what did they find
so many years ago ere they
met.
I pass them on my nightly
journey to the shop,
and feel the need to say hello,
but like their grip,
their locked hip to hip,
and pass by really slow within
themselves.
The post at the corner of
the road has some meaning,
their noted turnaround zone
as they take the same
steps back ere they came
nestled in each other's warm
embrace.
But where are the smiles of
joy and love, I wonder
where is the mirth of happiness,
not a kiss appears,
just their walking fears,
and the surety of each other
alone.
Why am I puzzled with them,
intrigued beyond resolve?
How can they be in love
No emotion do I see
No talk, or thought of me,
Just that relentless back
and forth.
How long do you think they
have been doing this?
Why aren't they able to share?
have they something
I am missing?
And is their emotion, fifty
years without kissing?
But I know one day will come
when they don't!
And I will miss that certainty,
that lifelong attention
to fated convention,
Forgone but not forgotten,
leastwise!
The Old Couple are the crux
of a life so sure,
we live as one but survive
as two,
I long to tread,
the long path since wed,
and have someone marvel at
my daily ritual.
The Old Couple,
I will miss you
when you walk no more
My Mothers Requiem
Once proud Lady and Mother
you were like no other to
me
you made me grow up
from age zero,
helped me become a man,
made me realise, Mum
you were simply grand.
Mum, my friend and childhood
chum,
you made me work and play,
you made me run and jump,
helped me over life's bumpy
roads,
I admired your patience and
diligence.
Mother,
most of all you were there
for all,
whenever anyone needed help
or loving care,
made the difference when it
mattered most,
made the effort, the perfect
hostess,
sunshine beaming smile,
every other while.
My Mum,
I lost you way too early,
I miss those smiles
and boyhood hugs,
deleted now
that comfort phone call,
died in pain but ne'er again,
nay more gaiety to share,
Mother,
I miss you, as all the world
does, too.
There is a Child
In Me .
There is a child in my head, When
I hear her screams She troubles my dreams, and those fears reach my subconscious, then I see her lingering smile, and
I simmer a while.
I see that child in my heart, sometimes breaking it with her weird decisions, forcing me to
ache when she doesn't get it right, There's a glow in that heart, though when she gives me a hug, and says, "I love
you, Daddy".
There is an ache on my soul, when her handicaps stall her life, and cause my wife to choke back
her tears, There's a light in our lives, too when she grows and miraculously survives the tough trials that life
offers her.
There is a child in my head, and she is mine, oh, for sure, she's divine.
This is written as a tribute
to my young daughter who is handicapped by disabilities from being a Blue Baby at birth.
Pangs
of Desire
Can you feel the pain as
the rawhide bowstring draws, and the notched hickory spears a beeline for your ache.
Do you feel the yearning as
the love of that action releases itself unburdened, on your waiting heart.
Imagination racing hot, the intent
of your attacker plain to see, but the passion, contents of a mystery.
Bow down to your feelings, look to
the stance of the bowholder, and receive whatever pangs of desire are sent your way.
Boca Chita
The picture that inspired
this poem can be found at http://posters.seindal.dk/p311347_Boca_Chita_Lighthouse.html
Battleground of love, two
participants swim, linked by their environment an island that lights the way.
Palm trees wave their approval
in a tropic breeze, signalled by fluffy clouds dancing across the seas.
In crystal clear water, for
all to observe, the curve of speed and grace side by side, in their place.
The sparkle of the sun on
water hints at the coming birth of son or daughter.
Redneck Romance
Darlin', ah love yer hair,
th' way it stan's in th' machine oil of mah car maintenance yard, cuss it all t' tarnation.
Love th' rose petals of auty
grease, spreadin' on yer sensual curves. Smell th' aromatic scent of gas fooms permeatin' th' smell of yer leather
moosk. Shet mah mouth!
Enjoy throttlin' yer
gears, as we ride th' hardtop in a sensual moment of speed, cuss it all t' tarnation.
'67 Co'vette, marry up wif
me
English Translation
Darling, I love your hair, the
way it stands in the machine oil of my car maintenance yard.
Love the rose petals of
auto grease, spreading on your sensual curves.
Smell the aromatic scent of
gas fumes permeating the smell of your leather musk.
Enjoy throttling your gears, as
we ride the hardtop in a sensual moment of speed.
'67 Corvette,
marry me.
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