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.

On Woman

Wanting Peace


My heart aches

when moments relied upon

become confusion,

when the skies gray

no longer inspires my eyes,

I’m lost in a horizon,

a search

waiting for the tears

to come cleanse the walls

of my secretive integrity.


Sweet Response


touch

photo – pinterest

Memory now,

consumed in irony,

the magic of a quiet release,

when two lovers would abandon

some reality,

societal scrutiny,

in order to satisfy

each other’s urgency.

 

There is a long silence

while eyes adjust,

he in fingertips begins to trace

her being,

the alive gasps of a naked shoulder,

eyes further,

lips part for sweet sigh,

his find is her release,

yet,

to an outside observer,

this might be far more carnal,

yet words,

than simply the elegance,

of her beauty in his

quiet, private …

caress.


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.


If We Might Imagine Real


When once we could

sense one another,

hold fast to each other,

feel our bodies intermingle,

my hands soft fall,

fingertips touch a naked arm,

shoulder to wrist,

I want you to feel my touch,

while yours,

touch my back,

naked,

pulling me close,

feeling my need rise

toward your own center,

we appeal to one another,

lips a sweet creation

a oneness,

while in passion’s grace

skin to skin

our lives

are within the realm

of why it is we wish to be,

and knowing such,

we do,

we will continue a journey

long before the reckoning,

we begin to search

each other’s desire,

a sensuality

found easily one inside

the realm within

a reach


I Thought About It


When I asked,

I could only anticipate what

she might give me,

for it is always the choice

becomes the mystery

in sweet love,

in harmony,

in that soul-searching

oneness

might a fairy tale

suggest

is what our lives

may become.

 

There is a certain pattern

to the human condition,

wait and wonder,

watch our lives move past dreams,

then wander

to wish upon some magic,

a harmony,

some might imagine

our lives are all

destined to be found

along a certain pathway,

and yet,

we waited,

found ourselves

already traveling

alone, forever.

 

It is that eternity,

I asked there might be some thought,

it is inside a dream

a wonderful reckoning

to caress her own soft

reality,

the open response

to our integrity.

For it was I might wish

that she could visit

find the same sensuality

brings me home

to hold her wonder

within the space in time,

that is our wander.

 

I looked upon her dreams,

I thought about it,

and I did conclude,

there is no certain finish,

no need,

to imagine,

an end to love …

eternal harmony.