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 “desire

A Clear Night in December


There is clarity,

in walking through our reality,

I’m in a hurry,

hoping to find you there.

 

I watched every person,

family, couple, single woman

walking through the

popular restaurant.

 

The streets were active,

holiday festivities,

the spirit of love in the air,

except alone I stood in the crowd.

 

I was waiting, hoping, wanting,

I wished for an interaction,

a notice,

the possibility our paths might cross.

 

The night belonged to the active locals,

A quiet little borough, where I couldn’t find her.


For This Kiss, I Would


Wait until the end of a storm, to know,

when gray disappears, I could find you,

for that is my blue,

my wonder,

that is my intrigue asking to be found.

 

For it is this kiss, I might hesitate,

wanton desire,

yet in this moment,

I leave my passion suspended,

for it is in your heart I want

only peace,

and there, by the moonlight,

standing on a bridge,

artsy,

it is where you will find my soul.

 

Tonight, in the breeze,

a chill of reality plays our soft tell,

yet,

stand with me, hold me, see me,

know that I would walk the hours

to have your heart

share my love for you.

 

For it is that intrigue,

so might we imagine,

so wrapped in words of

a timeless tradition …

romance,

for while I glance the sky,

I’m at peace realizing I never will,

I’ll always be satisfied,

knowing I don’t know why


This Posture


Like yesterday, perhaps in the moment,

a gasp

to the naked eye,

such is beauty,

inherent in the persona

of a lover in her privacy.

 

Only quiet reminders

might recall,

such is the treasure will

a woman

behold upon a man,

sweet delight is mystique.

 

If forever could suggest,

a posture,

a pose,

a need to expression,

then while the world evolves,

would my heart be held in hers.

 

We will remember the moment

sweet demeanor is passionate notice.


When Last Night Whispers


In the reality of my dreams,

I watched her go about her world,

a spectator

I could stand nearby

notice and wonder,

watch the being of her energy

carry a room,

cause purpose in the eyes of an onlooker.

 

This is the certain radiance,

when woman in elegance,

allows only the shine,

the reverence belongs inside a dream

where reality can never sway

the delight of an innocent eye.

 

I stood near the doorway,

wondering about exits,

clearly concerned

the outside world,

where everyone is on their own,

I contemplated the next moment,

would she always stand nearby.

 

Turning toward the room,

I let my dream take me away,

forever bound by the delight of time,

she would, will, can she really, well, yes,

always dance inside a dream

my dream,

the setting

would I rather remain,

an eternal reminder.

 

When love does call out,

we can all remind ourselves,

there is beauty in time,

an elegance in

a silent utterance.


Finding Reason


While we might pretend a reality,

the world exists beyond a norm,

there are the pitfalls,

the errors

in judgment,

yet even then,

a person might want to question,

authority.

 

There is often found a reasonable ideal

suggests the beauty of love,

beyond the possibility,

self contained,

cautioned beyond a passion,

and instead lost in the ambivalence,

inherent in error.

 

Though then the albatross be revealed,

we must love the knowing glance well fed.


The Mystique


When we cannot know,

our lives in a scrutinized vacuum,

whereby the outside,

the dreamer’s landscape,

where our lives seem to wish

a wanton paradise.

 

Out of reach,

just that vision

keeps our compelled

idealism

streaming with fresh

virtue,

the essence

suggestive of love.

 

When without time,

we speculate,

wish,

a hopeful recall

reminds our soul

that true love

always,

realizes sweet mystique.

 

 


Hers is a Mystique


When quiet gasp,

sensation,

hers is a soft response,

a mellow journey

of lips and tongue,

exchanges of passionate release,

one touch,

another is a sensual

response,

fingertips align with purpose,

quiet trace,

a forever blend of tease

inside a deeply designed

maze of passion’s own survival.

Oh to know the path to center,

when alone imagination,

is left beyond the moment,

once in sweet play,

the reach,

the desire,

the lessons in intimacy.