lovers new at play

chivalric
smiles of lips too sweet
in hesitance approaching,
may I…open the wine
he asks seeming meek.

she turns
a coy smile newly learned
teasing eyes brightly,
good sir please as much
as you have discerned…

and stops mid-tease
yes, please, open it for me.
She forgets to breathe in
gleaning underlying strength.

sadness

when in the garden there's a girl
spills her heart on her sleeve saying
oh how clumsy, pardon me and
cries rubber duck smile
nodding, slipping, torn away...

rainy day

Sometimes my soul sinks in spirit,
gray skies and damp rich earth
a duality in passion and lack of luster.
You see I love to grow; things,
people, myself. And though I turn
a heart wild and thighs throbbing,
equanimity toward the sun, I let
the gray depressions nourish
to thought dreams of tomorrows
instead of temp into decay of spirit.
Yet deep do I desire the sun
to stroke and admire in soft caress.

on double entendres and inuendoooooos... You see, I think in eight dimensions and ever anything I may say may or may not appear to be eight of any given things at once and yet I only mean what I say quite specifically having not the thought process intentionally though I know I've done it as soon as it's said and oh how I do snicker!

dreamin is free... Someone but the right one... let me turn your bacon into fresh veggie pies, cool scented linens, wine, a clean mowed lawn fresh trimmed bush. I long to read, to write, to nourish, twenty plus years of labor have I to throw to the wind weary of the constraint. And what if I worked part-time in some small café near the beach brought home pastries and cream, made sure you ate. Went to school, yes I'd like to eventually teach, summers to play and live and there could always be the café when your job was more demanding and until you quit, yes I want you to quit, me teaching, the tables turning both pursing what comes from the musings we play and bring passion to each day and eve. Ah but a dream and yet that life would I lead ever if I could find someone but the right one.

writing is... when asked what do i do? i rarely say i work in academia and am a goddamn underpaid... anyway, i say "oh i write" and of course they ask "oh and where do you publish?" or "what have you written?" or "do you have a book out?" i of course am thinking "how bloody damn conformist of you." but i turn the tides and say "what a lovely..." and they preen and puff at the compliment to thier a p p e a r a n c e. and i am happy having not shared my passion of writing my soul like ink on paper with someone so low as not to be able to understand... writing is breathing, one breath at a time, one heart beat in a moment captured and expressed. XOX ~p

I
I can’t do this. I can’t do this. Yes you can, my inner heart says. But no, I swear this class is going to kill me. It’s going to break my heart all over again. I knew we would speak of disabilities but I wasn’t ready for the dying, the heartbreak, the myriad psychological connotations that take me back to days I've fought hard, written at length to get past. Those days I feel I've thought on far too often, days I gave their due and want to rent from my sleeve and slip into my pocket of bitter sweet remembrance. I only want to take them out again and smile soft with sad eyes. Instead on occasion I still weep openly and full, the triggers catching me off guard. I am weary of sadness, death, hardship and only want to seek my soul’s serenity, my heart’s content.

And yet haven’t those days driven me passionately to want to live, exploring those that cross my path that could never dream to pass by...

II
I fought hard last eve
in the wee hours, your
flesh my green jesus,
tried to articulate
in my head what my
voice could not speak
and yet still only
monosyllabic utterances
formed in quietude;

tran

scen

dence.

journalesque

I am pouring over the past, pulling out bits that strike me, old pain and hurt that can no longer touch me, hope and joy that drove me. Suddenly I am whole again - if I ever actually was once and if not then it is not again but finally.

Finally.

Can't you feel it? Listen close...






"DANCE! boogey oogey dance!"