I would like to be a writer. I began this site with amorous intentions, and over the course of time, I hope to have evolved as a male in an ever changing society that is today, recognizing the true beauty and elegance of woman. My words and notions will I hope respond in poetic verse of many genre and style. Come along and please share your ideas and insights. Thank you for your visit.

Love

My Time Is My Own


A mantra with meaning,

a saying to suggest,

a memory,

quiet in its discretion, its wishful

mnemonic fortune.

Oh, to have the time to say the words,

to know the reaction, to see the eyes,

to feel the lips, to taste the passion,

to understand the mystique

is drawn inside our own set of fashion,

our world together,

it is in that quiet alley way,

where romance did lean against stucco walls,

inside a broken world,

where healing hands and gasps and fires

did maintain some semblance of peace

internalized by the conflict of our realities.

Oh to know the sweet spirit of love

in all its natural abandon

preserved by the symbolic nature

of heart and soul.

Oh to taste the fire of dewy eyes in winter’s landscape.


New Life


Borne of need,

sheltered by reasoning,

though constraints do speak

when given audience,

it is clear we must move forward,

lest not forget,

there is beauty in memory,

the such that in a quiet reflection

will always,

forever be a lovely reminder,

there is beauty,

and she did show me the way.


When Wishing We Make Love


One might wonder

the occasion

to know the

passionate embrace,

the metaphysical,

inspirational,

devotional desire

to want the motion,

to wish,

to make love.

 

One might imagine,

when in the moment,

intensity,

abandon,

the sort allows our bodies

a shelter

to land upon, inside, beyond,

to feel this surreal nature

of sensuality drawn upon

years inside a quiet energy,

waiting, wanting,

finding that reach,

the place,

sweet serenity is a cliche

that might not ever describe

the truly incomprehensible

vision,

knowing the moment.

 

One might always

wander,

asking the reveal,

swift is the response

to finding her mystique

knowing, believing, wishing

to comfort

such aspect of truth

is inherent

when lost in the throes

of wishing only peace

to be the

center of woman.


Stepping Inside


cityscape

There was a shelter nearby,

we sought it with smiles,

a little piece of hidden world,

we created,

we made it our own,

I leaned against an aging picket board fence,

still sturdy and willing,

the stucco exterior of the vacant home nearby,

we would later laugh and say to each other,

if only we might live

right here.

 

I kissed her in the sweet moonlight of a winter breeze,

hidden in our makeshift reality,

we held each close,

the intensity of our passion so longed for,

so forgotten by no one beyond ourselves.

 

There was laughter in our eyes that night,

sweet magic to taste the bloom of wanton lips,

we wanted, indeed,

we wished for more yet recognized

the night sky held other’s eyes,

those would be our albatross,

a sweet touch of skin upon each desire,

and a good-bye,

the one we had never quite imagined,

in our own independent way.

 

Stepping nearby,

stepping inside,

stepping away

sweet nigh …


Oh the Wonder of Love


The barista looks upon his expression, the customer,

hasn’t any idea what might settle in mind,

yet there is of course always a wonder,

she, he, they, the people everywhere around,

haven’t a clue the loss of memory

occurs when love unrequited may no longer

hold a place in this our sweet dear fantasy.

 

An internal methodology exists when fighting

the pangs of a helpless love no longer asunder,

and instead far, very far away now,

to that greater distance where one two loves

might touch in a quiet night sky,

this evening the clouds have arrived,

there is a certain mingling beyond the mind,

will forecast only a denial of open sky this nigh.

 

I do love to know that our love is true, I always will,

I forever remind my quiet mind the patterned reality

that did our lives cross paths for reasons beyond our

own societal terms – there it is, there, we did … love.


Beauty In Repose


I settled inside a fantasy,

for many years,

I would know strictly beauty

in all of her capacities,

only because she would

let me in.

 

She let me in,

and I accepted,

though it was me that wanted

to be inside her world,

know then the surreal,

the soul, such passion,

as my life had never known.

 

We walked together,

trails of discovery,

every glance, we stepped seemed to merit another,

we’d laugh and we would realize,

might we do this forever,

easy enough

to know just sharing her energy

my only wish, my only need,

my only sense of being real in my world.

 

I wonder tonight,

will tomorrow,

days later,

I wonder if ever there might be

some challenge to know,

some break in the storm,

that might allow sweet remedy

to the pain I feel each nigh.

 

I wonder if she might ever know,

may ever give solace

to the beauty she may bring

to a man’s life.

 

I wander the streets in certain repose,

wanting only hers to have the peace

she deserve,

yet me, my selfish quandary,

has no value in an eternal memory.

 

I do know elegance, mystique, hers is a design,

a jewel, an unknown sojourn toward forever.


Starting Now


I haven’t the clue,

the wrap around my heart?

my day begins and does cease

before the break of dawn.

 

I don’t know how to start my day

if even to hear her say?

‘we are ok,’

is no longer a part …

forever removed

beyond the early crisp horizon

of who we are,

might have been.

 

I don’t know how to stay.