Poetry Thursday

A poet might say___ 
___bend your heart towards mine-let your breast touch mine as nature causes heart and heart to match rhythm and beat as one. 
I stare in to eyes of passion as they radiate love immeasurable. 
I touch hair that radiates and is soft as down. 
I smell the sweet nectar of your beauty as my senses reel. 
I feel the warmth of your body as it caresses mine. 
I hope that the minutes will morph into hours into days into forever.

A poet might say___

___bend your heart towards mine–let your breast touch mine as nature causes

heart and heart to match rhythm and beat as one,

I stare in to eyes of passion as they radiate love immeasurable

I touch hair that majestically emits colors of the rainbow and is as soft as down

I smell the sweet nectar of your beauty as my senses reel

I feel the warmth of your body as yours caresses mine

I hope that the minutes will morph into hours into days into forever.

Captured Beauty: Dust

My heart lay in scattered bits like shattered glass,

love was the force which made the blast of lonely nights and mournful days as my heart lingered in romances past.

Remember the boy whose love was in your hand you held me loosely like sand I trickled away and disappeared from your grasp;

falling upon your shoes or atop your bare soft feet as you wrinkled your nose and brow set to washing or brushing me away while giving your mind relief.

Satisfied you stepped through loves remains without a look back–did not you see the swirling in your wake as the dust was disturbed; how often have my pleas gone virtually unheard.

It was my love my tender plea’s hoping you might turn back to embrace me once again as I offer romantic bounty.

What was my chance to offer my hand of sand in the dance, what kind of reality was mine to chance.

Just For A Summer Moment

Busy.

Rushing about, duties multiplied, not one
could help me upon my present task, help
not coming, one need not ask.

Bleak skies give way to waters fury, as
wind tears at my clothing.

Against my ears I hear the buffeting of
wind, head down – avoiding injury.

I round a corner and I see you, adorned
in blue, beautiful – the color of sky or
its reflection from the waters of a
hidden lake.

I see flowers framed against blue,
your soft skin glows with an
iridescence, radiant, hair dark and
framing your face as it would live
upon an artists canvas.

Just as the painter placed beauty with
brush upon his miracle creation; so you
exist from your parents.

Your very movement is frozen, as time
must pass for its duty is set, day is
your ally sweet flower.

The wind suddenly has ceased, in my
mind, my heart, my body strains not as
though in an isolated dream my art
gallery visit led me to your beauty.

You gaze at me in your stillness,
beauty living, as though i found a
secret alcove, exposed to the viewer
for the first time. Can you be mine?

Is “we” perhaps in our future?

My heart is yours – if you bless me
as your chosen.

Captured Beauty: Scars

Captured Beauty: Scars

Since that moment, I have sought you
throughout the city, it was nothing
you said or did as a person – no pity.

Yours was a curious balance of
tender beauty and gentle resolve,
like life you seem to have this
puzzle solved.

The quiet presence who filled the
room with goodness overflowing,
paused not in what you were doing
as my fascination for you was growing.

Soft brown eyes did played under amber
hues, took me by surprise as
did the scar that appeared with the
shift of your shirt; my evening was
starting on a low note just as a jazz
musician draws out the blues.

Dark reminder of a recent battle for
another day endeavors to exist in
this life, I wondered on the fight that
you chose not to ignore, if like the
musician whose notes seem like
organized strife.

Opinion mattered not as this lovely
adventure showed, was life worth the
effort, the fear, the pain; sweet
darling – on choice would you take
survivals journey again.

Was it to repair a childhood anomaly
as doctors said sagely you will grow
out of it, or was it love – which
anchors itself upon, within, even
throughout the heart; is there a
remedy for this of which the mind
and body plays well their part.

Was it a riddle that blooms with
time, as sordid and dangerous as
bad meter and rhyme.

Perhaps what worked for me will work
for you too; taking long as
love worked its way throughout my
very being making me perpetually blue.

I captured love and placed it in a
golden cask, it wasn’t easy, perhaps
looking back it was a monumental
task.

Stealing to a lower deck, I released
the box into the swirling waters below,
for dramas sake or even for show;
my own heart I must protect that’s all
I know.

But mystery beauty, have you too been
stolen from me, will I say the right
things, should we meet again?

I Am Your Compact

She looked at me and smiled.

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Is it possible for a compact case

to fall in love?

I gazed at her total beauty.

“You look awesome, dear.” I could
feel her body heat as she drew me
near to her face. I longed to kiss
her soft red lips. Eyes closed now,
might I steal a tender — she rubs
her eye shadow as I gaze at her
hair and ears.

Still a kiss is a kiss.

She closes the lid and walks away
from the dresser. Darkness.

I have watched, as a youth, you
fumbled through your Mom’s purse until
like magic, precious grubby little
fingers seized me.

Mom’s treasured possession, again,
for the day – yours.

I’m excited, as I imagine our day
together. you – unlike your mom,
gratefully leave me open.

This allows me to view the world
outside, with the great sky, radiant
and so blue; sunshine so gallantly
yellow-white and true.

If I could escape forever into the
world beyond, who might choose me as
their betrothed, as near to face, as
any loved one;

I shudder to think of places I might
end, with mirror cracked, powder
gone – except for the edges; my
usefulness; is over I am quite done.

A sudden lurch frees me from my dismal
imaginative wade thru misery; my
usefulness far from over as my mistress
enjoys her beauty and finery.

Should this not be, as I see most
often curvaceous lips, turned into
playful puckers; as we prepare to jaunt
into the city – a place of excitement
and fun or for some, a place where we
intrigued the truckers.

I have heard, but not witnessed where
great Queens hold me in high regard,
as even the dollar store sells my kin.
I am again one in all who enjoys such
beauty; my rewards are measured in your
use of me to perform my duty.

Sights I often see, such marvels of
beauty, lips so beautiful and in
multitudes of colors, hues and stuff,
from sensuous gloss to stark black
semi-gloss cuties;

so much of what I am ensured success,
facing a world where some actually
gauge looks as a measure, should
release the old paradigm of how the
World measures beauty.

Only those of limited human scope
would allow a panel to exercise
judgments of a woman’s beauty – I know
where from her beauty begins from the
very moment when she dons the mantle
of womanhood, thus it is, and ever shall be.

Her swell of her face to where her
mouth – matters not if her lips are
thin or full, soft not firm, or whether
natural swell towards the smile, or the
right events must actuate upturned beauty.
This will generate the path to true beauty.

Pursed or slightly parted desirous in their
element, rain – moist, tender and soft;
snow – dry, mostly turned in and sheltered,
or possessing a gentle blue hue.

Dampened by pool, pond, lake or ocean you
face and mouth are works of serene beauty.

My task is to show you, and in turn help you
realize the honor of your true attractiveness
and the reality of what you may become,
or of who you are.

Towards Slumber

Towards Slumber

Ah, to gather ones self towards the
welcome relief of slumber, matters
not if the day is still present or
one hears the approaching dusk by
the softening of days activity.

Even the birds commence with
sometimes a furious din, as though
arguing for spaces owned before
night becomes inn; thus spaced and
balanced by families do preen before
bed and cry “nini” to new found
friends.

What of the creatures that walk up
on the ground, is nightly peace of
any be found. Where may a gentle place
act as safe haven, while enemies
search and scour the night to devour
even friend Raven.

Ah, fear not for them for clustering
in numbers when alarmed sends
lurkers scurrying for safer plunders
as through the inn; pecks and
buffeting upon them rain from
stranger and friend.

Safely away our lurker is safe to
contend with a drink of milk from a
doorway tin.

Then what of the people who work
the night, no rest for them as they
slumbered by day; many by choice
per se would likely choose nights
stabilized din than daytimes bray.

Rush rush hustle bustle not a
moment to share, time is money
money the seduction is there
breath to spare.

Dizzy delirium added drama, what
say you on the wheel as you run,
employment is sluggish, sequester is
booming, summer used to be about
fun.

Look at the young humans living in
their beautiful worlds, while all about
life tumbles headlong as the endless
cycle continues of boys chasing
girls.

When tired both sexes stop and rest
as they feel the riptide of summer;
lay upon the grass lose not the
sweet lass who lay beside you for
this would be a bummer.

Don’t forget the chores whether
outside or indoors – so much in
so short a time; Pop then Mom
would scream (at least in my mind
they did) which was not a positive
thing for day passed to night and
look still not finished, you’re
grounded – sure fine.