NSFW – Adults Only Please – My goal with this page constantly evolves – there was a time when all I wanted was to pique a woman's interest in the hope we connect through writing, dialogue … today, with all of the wonderful inspiration I've received, my need is to further my respect and intrigue in the sensual nature of 'woman' in all of her grace and elegance. I do hope you might enjoy!

On Woman

Lives Travel


To be so close,

a step in this direction,

a quiet moment of reflection,

to know nearby,

an energy,

hers,

her grace and subtle tear,

so very poignant, apparent,

a purposeful posit of love.

 

Two cosmic travels ago,

we did our lives intersect,

that moment,

the visual notice of each other,

in a familiar setting,

so close,

enough to reach and touch each other’s

long quieted soul.

Oh, to know that moment

has changed my world forever,

in that eternal schema

of what is matter,

and how does chance include

the absolute of our

sweet reckoning.

 

I am here,

as are you,

always,

my heart intersects the lines of sweet

innocence plays the strings of our lives.


In A Quiet Twilight


her_ghost_in_the_fog_by_dimmfreak

There’s been a lot of talk recently,

about what it is,

what we have,

how the world seems to function,

though we’re an anomaly to

the truth.

 

I came home tonight,

yes, a sort of settling fashion,

so often I’ve felt out of place,

in a wonder,

not knowing really,

where home might ever be.

 

I knew it once,

when in her arms,

she cradled me,

oh, yes, I am a man,

but there is something rather

fortunate,

when a woman does hold your

soul in everlasting love.

 

So, tonight,

I’m aching a little bit,

there’s a settling sort of peace,

knowing love,

knowing she does love,

knowing,

is really all that matters

some times.

 

Then comes the wonder,

in the night,

the twilight with the crickets,

singing that familiar song,

we both agreed,

last week, indeed,

we listened to the same

melody.

 

In the quiet of the twilight,

I do love

her.

 

* photo found on Deviant Art

 


In Speaking to God


I asked Him today,

how it is He measures,

His way,

like walking into a department store,

asking the clerk,

could you tell me which way.

I suppose they might lead you to the chosen …

wait a second I would say,

that’s supposed to be His plan.

 

When she got in the car, she was happy,

almost giddy her mood, smiling,

eyes did sparkle in a way,

that did let me feel her emotion,

and then I caught her reflection,

walking in to get her coffee,

her smile had turned to concern …

when she returned we did talk about why.

 

I asked her carefully, and while she said,

she didn’t know,

I listened to her breathing, suddenly halting

when then the tears began,

she told me,

it couldn’t be this way,

she needed …

and I completely understood,

we watched the sky create wonderful pictures,

to allow our imagination to stretch across the world.

 

I held her close for a time,

it seemed like only a second or two,

I wanted to forever,

so I might feel her breathing,

begin to settle inside my arms,

I knew I couldn’t though,

I at least had that moment, we knew that moment,

we cared about only having that moment.

 

He knew she would be ok.


The Serenity of a Breeze


Is a calm, when sweep naked skin,

A summer day, oh, a lovely breeze,

When she strolls slow naked skin.

The leaves have a gentle sort of tease,

 

When whispers suggest we are alone.

I can breathe again, in knowing her

Dreams caress such intrigue is shown.

In looking in eyes express together,

 

A desire only matters if in serenity

We can pass through sunlit fires

In resilient storm echo sanity.

To know the beauty Nature aspires.

 

Something lovely in a gale of summer,

Leaves exist cause any I to wonder.


Something About Love


Does it make a man lose his mind,

well yes it does, it can, perhaps,

it actually should.

Quite possibly when love arrives,

shows itself, envelops the mind,

the actor comes alive,

begins to work the stage in a manner,

only shows the true passion of life.

 

When i do have the chance, the grace,

her eyes in front of my own, our glance,

there’s not a part of life that matters,

just her and I

running through the woods,

a lightness, a mountain creek,

fresh water sails beyond our world,

to tell us that there is this fluid nature

to love,

it does run forever,

not stilted,

instead, a love like this does continue,

we remember the first time forever.

 

I do hold on to her kiss,

it is  a journey I take, I want, I give,

where when lips touch,

my world becomes her,

and everything else around me,

does indeed matter less,

for it is breathing in her soul,

tells me,

love is eternal.

 

Then how does that man survive,

when his heart is held in the hand,

her sweet delicate hand,

her soul his whole design,

it is there,

in the privacy of love,

where he does know

always,

her peace does his hand hold,

her soul, his soul,

together,

we can imagine there is a mystique …

something about love.

 

 


Walking In Doors


There is a certain beauty in seeing

her walk through doors,

it is when in the sky looming gray,

her light will shine,

I cannot know how to make her smile,

just hope she might,

because there inside then,

I might believe,

the truth to love can exist,

inside her quiet world,

that place where no one seems to enter,

unless it is of course, a time when her heart,

might allow itself to breathe,

allow its elegance, her compassion,

the soul for which my body yearns,

it is there in the quiet of her peace,

there I wish to see her delight in the solace.


The Little Things


When our lives settle difficult,

we wonder what will be our next

manner of speaking,

how to convey a need for love.

 

When our passions so unbridled,

cause our eyes, our hands, our bodies,

to want to interweave, and grace

each other’s fire with further desire,

 

it is in the little things she does,

when her fingertips touch my own,

and sweep the skin to help me feel

her love is an everlasting reminder.

 

When in the moment, our moment,

she does let my hands fill themselves

with her hair, so she feels my touch

upon her neck to allow her eyes to live.

 

When in the day, we do spend hours

in simple tones, conscious of each other,

in a need to display love in a quiet,

in a quiet, in a quiet manner of touch.