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. I am also into writing poetry. Come along for the ride.

Posts tagged “dance

When Last We Waltz


A shiny afternoon,

a meadow,

I keep returning there,

always to find her near,

it was of course,

a dance I swear

 

Rounding the corner,

to sidestep a stream,

we did walk in hand

forever it might seem,

and then the break,

where would we return

 

A quiet waltz

is one will remain

when out of the cover,

it seemed,

in the daylight of spring,

could she float away.


Sky Seeker


If we might imagine for a moment

beauty

in all of her grace is taken for granted

yet fly she will

almost spiritual

in human form to reach the sky

supine sinewy seance in swan like motion

hers is meant only as treasure

in the moment,

in her own personal reality.

Why then,

must we tarnish the elegance

of woman

in all of her wondrous magic.

Ask only a favor

to recognize this sky seeker

vulnerable as sweet dove

serene in sensuality

meant to pleasure the eyes,

within fantasy the mind

could delight …

watch her fly, watch her …

seek the sky.

~

*I am fortunate to have the permission to occasionally attach the wonderful photography of Allen Parseghian to my work. Always grateful.


Grace in Human Form


Live alive in society a fluid motion

Our artistry as human often a notion

~

What we imagine to be

simplistic form beyond the scope

of the human condition.

~

When little we imagine

beauty inherent in effort

while we seek ideal

~

We cannot overlook that

Grace she will carry with her in

any movement, any shadow.

~

Why then do we demand,

delight, desire, derive our own …

such satisfaction diminish.

~

Hers is a remarkable peace whose essence

in body such mystique breathes innocence.

~

Photographer – Allen Parseghian

Dancer / Model – Svetlana Bednenko


Finding Beauty


 

 

 

 

I choose the highlands

that reach toward the sky,

I live to know the heights

where my soul might linger

in a sweet peace of this world,

where it is I am in destiny,

the travels of my mind.

I know so little of what is time,

can only wish and dream perhaps

there might be a delight in line

for all of our heart felt agony.

I wonder often of failure

how the remark contains me

if it were just only a test

a limitless horizon of humanity

would it be so powerful then

once I might understand pathways.

~

I was once a child of a decade

where screen doors and trails,

soft breeze and playful friends

hot summers and weekend skis

the wisp of romance quite vivid

in the eyes of an older sib.

I remember then when life

could be as transparent as

the picture window in my home.

~

What happened to muddy the glass,

where is when I did suddenly

come to terms with losing idyllic

prayer and spiritual guidance?

How did I get to be so critical

of simply my own sacred humanity?

Why is it when I wake in the morning sun

my dreams become a starker reality,

a place where hope and beauty

always measured, isn’t a natural

course of my day’s mechanics?

~

I was watching you one evening

the music pounding my ears,

my body writhing to the rhythm,

yet you miles away in the heights

celebrating love, exploding sensuality

if I could lift my heart to you

like the potion driven magic

of my favorite never found chemist,

might I then find my peak,

while settling into ethereal arms

of passion and grace, would I with a smile

glance upon that valley of my dreams.

~

*photo credit – allen parseghian


Sweet Liberty


She would move in puzzles

the sort that might twist my mind,

sinewy legs, rambling arms,

her breasts alive in silks

meant only for my eyes

in a crowd of many,

yet my eyes would find hers,

search inside her world,

where her hips would move

my loins as the sweat would pour

our bodies in unison

moving on marble floors

~

we could do it right here,

if only for a society that

might allow sweet liberties,

the sort you write home about.

~

move with me please would

her shoulders plead my hands

her thigh inside my own legs

her hips gyrating to the blues.

~

I would watch her in a moonlit sky,

move through the breeze with a need

to only release a lovely energy

the sort that if offered may swoon.

we may dance inside each other’s

minds, passion filled, recreating

a seductive sojourn, her sensuality.

~

if only the dance floor became my reality.


When The Music Played


When I could feel you move,

you danced, and I followed, only holding on,

knowing you were there,

my side brushing yours, chest gracing

you.

I could play all night

if the right melody

brought your eyes inside my own,

if I could be there now,

I would.

When the music played,

I will listen to your gasps,

the delicious nature of a heated exchange

of lips and tongue and grasps and ass,

When the music plays,

I will dance with her.


She Could Dance


She could dance in the moonlight,

the world around her

would recognize an elegant night,

for while we occur

to imagine the beauty of a morning sunrise,

we still must always,

allow her world to remedy and realize

these are her days.

She could dance under a starry sky,

we ought not have to ever ask why!