Tidal Merger: Lightening

Tidal Merger: Lightening

Blinding light ripped through dark
skies sending images of its visit
as echoes through my mind.

Clearly I see your smile as given
to me alone; locked away, but I
gave you mine in return;
I did not see if you placed my smile
in your heart; or did you file it away
as a passing occurrence, just as
the thunder follows the bolt of light?

I only know I can not deny what is
in my heart, I can push it aside; but,
as the peal of light ebbs, so the
thunder renews the desire, the
thirst of love.

I visualize the desire of love and
linked to your response, as the
need that fuels the junkie for the
next fix, subdued; for the moment,
the painful ache of longing.

Blinded by the reality of the
unharnessed destruction of each
bolt, the natural event is observed
and captured by camera, video or
the unfortunate eye witness or
even participant of its wrath.

Loving is not different, seen from
a distance, not overly hostile, but,
loosed overhead and the story is
more involved, directed towards
one – the results are engaging with
a potentially new adventure with
every strike.

Do we know of loves debilitating
effects? Only and after we fall
headlong into loves embrace, will,
if we can overcome; challenge every
test and walk hand in hand in love
facing any adversity or storm.

Do you walk with me or ahead of me?
is this question relevant in love; do
people not become more interesting
when they are allowed to breathe,
when their creativity is allowed to
overflow and inundate the humanity
and the relationship with adventures
large and small.

Worthy of love, are the unique
passions and personal relationships
that establish female-male friendship
and help to establish the fantastic
diametric which is the fundamental
foundation and framework of love.

Humanity, where our air is purified
by the high energy bolts arcing from
earth to sky, so is love polarized
and constantly renewing itself.

But, needing the strength and
weaknesses in our humanity to
establish separate roles and
expressions in a loving relationship.

Ah, but where is my love in this?

Search your heart, perhaps like
the lightening strike; it has passed.


She Waits

She Waits

Upon a crystal bed she sits
on a blanket of green; her
beauty has drawn millions
like waves and sights unseen.

She has opened her arms to
expose her beautiful face, as
though she bids come, look
upon me, touch me, caress me.

Her lovely features are the
wonderment of nations, she
is highly prized and protected.

Tender faced, like that of a
sleeping child, her love spread
arms wide to beckon, hurry,
time is short and her stay is
limited; love me now, worry
not on the morrow, for we
have now what lovers seek.

The bed is soft, is it not?
I am beautiful, deny this, no?
My arms are open wide for
you, yes; look into my face
come, closer, much closer;
better, touch me among my
thistles where many look
upon, but rarely enter. I am
yours, at this moment, I am
the answer to your needs.

Gently, tenderly as one might
a sleeping child, arms cradle
my face and I enter.

I am a master performer and
have improved on the places
where she is best suited to
provide me with the rewards
I seek; I in return, provide her
with a way to continue her
craft luring me, my brothers,
to do for her what she most

To love, cherish, and honor
her upon her crystal bed of

Fabulous Mystique

Fabulous Mystique

Eyes capture all events, treasured
beauties that aroused my heart to
amorous intents;
needless platitudes rain upon me
from the very start, I taste loves
mysterious flavor from its very
I stand at the topmost landing and
I have a choice, turn away and
ignore my hearts pull; or close my
eyes and fall forward down the
stairs and into loves wondrous
What comes with my descent:
sometimes the way of love is
beset with:

uncertainty tempered with joy – we
embraced for the first time; we needed
each others physical comfort
for emotional reasons, my face pressed
against hers; why does she allow me to stay
pressed face to face (I wondered on this, her
face was soft, her warmth was intoxicating)
I reflected all in my mind, just as I sank into
the depths of her beauty – I did not want to
let go of her in my heart, though, the status quo
and prudence said let her go – we broke
from our embrace.

pain countered with wisdom – our
relationship grew, outside factors
influenced how I felt about what I
determined to be love; forces I could
not realize would shape daily the
balance of love and hurt.


My silly heart would not let go, I’m
being bruised and bounced about
by events as they unfold like a
beautiful silken scarf, so beautiful
are they when they pass close by,
or toss me a smile; I’m bobbing like
a tube upon a wide flowing river.

Events seem to make everything
fall into place – they are there, my
love is inside me bubbling up and
about to make the lid pop off, when
our friend reality awakens and
puts a stop to our minds playful
meandering. Silly heart I cry, just
beat and leave me alone; that is
not to be because loves tumble
can be horrifically agonizing.

Sleepless nights, painful days, and
all the same you do what you must
to survive, to keep busy, to try and
hold back the pangs of love as it
sears into your soul and threatens
your very existence.
“Heart, just beat please. No not pause,
I’m sorry heart
we need each other, this we
both are aware. Why when I see them
do I turn into jello inside, why do I
go mute, not wishing to spoil the
moment by saying some thing, come
heart I’m talking to you.”
Thump, thump. “Hiding are we;

peace balanced by war – I did not
understand the extent of the
emotional bond that love would
allow to manifest itself, that such
a tender shoot that can force its
way thru a newly paved street, can
become devastated from the first
hailstone that might chance to
strike it.

chaos calmed by logic – some times
the turmoil from outside can shake
the very foundation, that two
people strive to make work, little
occurrences can become avalanche
threatening to engulf loved and lover
in a maelstrom of pain and

tears overcome by mirth – suffering
sometimes silently, must be brought
to a standstill; love is an amazing
endearment, and a testament to
our humanity; keeping each other
happy can not realistically be
accomplished every day, if there
is a moment to smile; enjoy sharing
it; know of a goofy joke try to
share – you are at least giving of

and remember;

loneliness can be held at bay by friendship.

As I descend, I tumble head over
heels, painful as it is, I am totally
aware that there are enjoyable
periods and for some, these can
carry over for years.

Given, I am painfully aware that not
all things are meant to be – so here
we all stand; perhaps longing for her
or him. Possibly imagining with him or
joyfully embracing her – we all at
some time will stand upon the landing
deciding whether we turn away or
as we peer into the darkness as the
stairs fall away, do we notice the
light in the depths?

Love is beautiful, and we, are only human.

Poetry “heartache” Thursday ❤



My heart paused as you chanced upon the space, with relaxed ease and lovely gait you sit with regal grace.

Though not a word was spoken aloud, my platitude of love was like a shout above the crowd.

Not a sound was spoken but was it true, did I sense the seed of love emanating from you.

A flicker of beautiful lashes was all that it took, my heart was ensnared like bait on the hook.

Happily captured my emotions spiked with joy, ran thru imagined fields of wheat; though dizzy, I traversed walls
of icy snowy peaks.

I remember the embrace, our
embrace. Remember, the stolen
moment; an embrace of adoration
like a bubble suspended in time.

Just two people, one with a momentary need, perhaps seeking comfort, or
sharing a similar seed;

captured in the mind of one, and
cemented into the heart of the other.

Both, fused in that moment, feeling
nothing surrounding them, save,
for that bubble in time;

How deeply did the reach of love
extend into my heart why is
love’s constant thrust an ever
present spear in the depths of my

Why do I wish to stand about
expectantly, waiting for the call;

Why the pangs of loss, when only
hours have passed, the hunger like
something gnawing away at the
mind, chews at the senses, tense,
yet, a constant apprehension, for
an answer, the right answer;


every sound is a discordant
tune rising in decibels with its
silent sound.

My feelings lost now, in our
moment, secure as the molecules
that bind the diamond-beautiful,
same as you, ever in the forefront
of my life’s path, a never ending
passionate journey.

Almond Creme

Almond Creme

Skin the color of almonds, highly
prized for one who chanced by.
Sorely pressed for time became I.

Your skin soft as down and radiated like light from above, your serene look was like heightened love.

On my knees I would implore you,
accept my touch, for without you I am but gathered dust.

See my soul as it twists freely in
the wind; carry this memory in your mind and next you are able place
your love to paper with pen.

You hardly noticed me if at all, our
encounter was brief it was a great hall.

Revelry was constant loud
unforgiving, while I wondered if I dared to question your means of living.

Your shoulders tweaking bare a beautiful tat was shown, as I garnered my courage to ask your name, though introduced, I forgot to my shame.

The soft creme of your shoulders
tantalized my senses, I felt I was
running along picket fences.

With the skin as pure as freshly fallen snow, my heart reached as
as high as I dared let it go;
for we are blessed to see with our
eyes, or feel as by touch, even to
taste your sweet loveliness before
my heart cries no.

Passion, not withstanding, many a brave fellow has come upon an embarrassed landing, when thinking
there was a field to play in; when a
kiss turned to land upon air and
this would be Romeo is left
alone standing.

Poetry Thursday.

Within Arms Reach

Within Arms Reach

Sometimes the sweetest treasures are in arms reach,
during a jovial moment, sharing a humorous teach;

Often the best of life is within our sight,
when heralded before the coming night;

Come dawn and we may have experienced that which
is precious, or lost opportunity when time was not granted;

Throughout our daily tasks, we often temper current activities,
sometimes hampered by our abilities, till the door of knowledge
swings open to reveal-based on our experiences that have
granted us the wisdom to succeed where once we failed;

Toward evening when our cares have diminished, and family
and friends surround us, endearments bring joy and fulfillment’s
we can not measure;

Our heart is a complex organ that is at times most difficult to understand,
but it leads us to love, grants us courage, and enables us to
sacrifice that which we sometimes hold dear.

To Love, with its strange tendrils toward joy and heartbreak, always
tough, it is not enough to learn – as forgiving humans we are never
without hope as we endeavor to open that door and seek comfort
for awhile;

Courage, its strength is measured by our resolve to try, by our will to
persevere, and not give up the fight, for ours, for our hope, for our
way of being;

Sacrifice, it is the greatest of all traits, when we deny ourselves now
for the hope of a better future, when we tender the most precious
gift-time, to prepare for the coming trials and then because
of Love, Courage, and Sacrifice; we strive to Win.

Flowers From Heaven

My editor directed me – stay on after the night beat. She sent me on

assignment to an outdoor garden show held at our local home store. I

could purchase anything from a tractor down to boxes of toothpicks. I

thought glumly that a cup of coffee might be what I needed, but, first


I knew nothing of flowers so I hoped that I might cobble a photo essay

together using the names that were probably posted to identify them. She

was standing beside the first row and I noticed her when I glanced up to

seek a sales associate.

Her hair, pale as the flower of the Belladonna and wonderfully the color

of the mist shrouded sun as it rises in the distance of a warm summer’s

morning. if touched, it might feel like the softness of the Hydrangea, its

closely packed groupings of blossoms taunted and beckoned to me with

it’s wonderful fullness. I noticed a few berries of this plant and having

pocketed one I was determined to test its sweetness.

Her face gazed upon the world with a stoic calm reserved for visiting

dignitaries. her eyes seemed to float like the flowers of the Wild Rose

upon its green leafy bed as the wind moves gently across their faces. I

admired her serene smile and impish charm that seemed to foundation

her facial features.

She stood straight as the Malva plant or Hollyhock she did seem a little

aloof or perhaps I factored wrong, and she might not be comfortable in

this place. When she turned her profile to me I immediately snapped off

a picture in her direction. her body was framed right and left with the

multicolored flowers stacked row upon row. I thought that if I could ask

her for assistance she might reward me with information on these plants;

I approached her.

Her lips were pretty, and her chin and soft cheekbones were a wonderful

contrast that gave her a sun kissed glow. She was wearing a soft cotton

smock and leggings that ended just past her calves. bare legs and soft

pink/green plaid canvas shoes adorned her feet. Gentle eyes were softly

surveying me when she said, “Hello, do you work here?”

“No. I was hoping you might help me, my eyes twinkled smiling, my

name is Anthony and I work for the local Sentinel newspaper.”

“What would a local reporter find interesting at a home store?”

“Ah, that is what eludes me but I hope to appease my boss by making a

photo essay from the flowers that are for sale here. If you would kindly

go with me for a short walk around it might make things easier for me,

however, I do not wish to trouble you.”

“My name is Amber. I have some purchases to make and I do not wish

for the stock to be swept up and sold. If you wish to accompany me then

by all means you are welcome.” she looked at me with a firmness that

said she would not accept any compromise.

I agreed and reached into my pocket. Bringing out the dark berry I eyed

it for critters, sniffed it and prepared to pop it into my mouth.

“Stop!” she said and many patrons turned to see what the commotion

was about.

“Pardon, what is wrong?” I said visibly shaken.

“Do know what you are holding in your hand?” she queried.

“It is just a berry from a plant over there; it looks tasty although the

smell leaves a lot to be desired.

“Hmm, if I told you it was poisonous would you still try it?”

“As a reporter I am curious of just about everything.” I hedged.

“Please hand it to me.” The reporters stubborn streak reared its head;

“it is mine, and I am going to try it out.” But I felt compelled and handed

the berry to Amber.

“You are about to learn something about flowers that not many people

live to tell about.” Squeezing the berry just enough to release a tiny drop

of the dark liquid she let some rest upon her index finger and placed it

against my lips to taste.

I let my lips rest against her thumb and index finger and gently probed

the liquid from her hand. If she noticed that I also kissed her hand she

did not react but I am sure she felt the suction because of the soft plop

that even I heard. She withdrew her hand and with a look of ages old

wisdom sadly asked, “is this what flowers mean to you?”

“No, it is merely the establishment of a link that reaches across the

distance to those that I care deeply about. Also those who have shown

me a kind gesture or a gentle touch via computer. It is by words that I

see as I read. Sometimes it’s from what I feel is going through my heart

at the given moment.” I wrinkled my nose at the bitterness of the fluid.

The difficulty of trying to explain my heart was more than anything I

had ever bargained for. My heart began to beat faster, my skin felt

clammy and the color drained from my face. I began to see red and a

sizzling sound was droning in my ears. Gasping for breath I reached out

for her but she was, though I was totally unaware, propping me up


She guided me to a bench that because of the Peony vines with flowers

running across it, held a sign which said please do not sit. We sat. I

leaned against her as she looked at me with concern in her eyes and a

mixture of mirth. “You are so silly. Slow news day,” she asked.

I nodded in the affirmative and smiled weakly, “I am a dork. Do you

forgive me, people are watching.”

She did not leave my face with her gaze for an instant. I will if you

promise to forgive yourself.” Then she smiled and I realized my life

would never be the same. She bade me sit and rest, telling me that she

must hurry to pick out her choice beauties, she promised to return and

check on me. She said she might take some of the pictures for me of

some of the flowers and this sealing her return I thanked her and handed

her my camera.

My mind drift was drifting. I seemed to hear and see all the words

everyone was saying and see the musical stanzas as the piped in

background music pumped out its melodious notes. Fragrant smells

became visible objects as my brain labored against the same movements

and undulations as though I were cared upon a swift moving river.

Smells of fresh water seemingly everywhere caused the occasional

moisture to caress my face like the moist lips of a hungry lover.

I was floating along as though in a dream. I thought I saw a beautiful

young woman walking along a beach wearing a pink lounger and

following close, a small but eager child who was bouncing along after


I saw a raven haired desert beauty totally at peace with the natural order

of her surroundings and walked in the desert not unlike the Native

Peoples of an earlier era.

In another I saw this wonderful sun kissed beauty that challenged my

concepts of persuasion and limited my ability to give a simple answer to

a complex question.

Still in another I saw my own people as spiritualists who sought only to

live in harmony with life, all within it, but were beaten and chased away

from the land they loved and the natural order they had for thousands of

years cultivated and come to understand.

I could not as yet determine my own fate, perhaps I have no right to live

in harmony with all, and perhaps chaos must be established to effect

serenity. I do not know but I am willing to learn.

I saw the beautiful lady who bore my camera away as a bouquet of

Hydrangea…soft, comforting, caressing my face gently and fragrant to

my senses. I settled myself on the bench and waited for my teacher and

benefactress to return.