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.

Posts tagged “moonlight

Standing in Twilight

I stood outside last night,

waiting for a show,

though, as I stepped through a summer,

screen door,

I couldn’t help but notice,

the brilliant amber on a night sky,

the leaves and forest and wonder about me,

all glistened in the moon’s mystique.


I knew the show would be out of my hands,

or perhaps the script rewritten,

for now, I imagined the sheer beauty of nightfall,

offered under a natural streaming light,

one that brought me to a different place,

like any such dabbling in nature light,

is meant to do.


I thought of her in this surreal setting,

and I wondered,

I wished, I hoped, I prayed,

the energy I felt might be compelled,

by the sweet nature of her.

Full Moon Blues

I looked at the moon tonight,

I wished it were described

through her eyes,

so that only I could understand,

what it is she was looking for.


I would like to imagine passion,

like the lunar magic in a holistic pattern,

all of us drawn,

well especially her and me,

by the mystique of the moon.


I stayed inside then

the remainder of the night,

I knew the stars were there,

under the moon light,

we could all pretend we were

there together.


I listened to the blues,

wondered about certain energy,

hoped I might be alright,

to have this tendency,

to want to understand,

and get it.


Under the light of the moon,

Sang the blues in a quiet swoon.

In Moonlit Trials

Consider shadows in stealth street lit form,

their evident stance, posture, motion seen

we are all habitual,

all players in a scheme.

The physical traits of our realities easily found

on a calm summer night, an evening walk.


Yet it is the surreal nature of a moonlit stroll,

that place in our dreams offers a mystique

whereby candlelights and cobblestone combine,

the breeze is always like an autumn rain,

the shadows belong to the romantics

who decide their lives are better in natural light.


There is this wood I remember,

not too distant from the city lights,

yet enough to allow starlit magic

to be a guide,

when love decide,

two hearts will travel inside their dream.


I wish to be there with you now,

holding you,

forever never letting go,

so that when tears would rain,

my eyes would yours compel,

and we would our own shadows know.



While the Music Played

I recall,

sultry moonlit visuals

you, skin glazing  in the night,

my hands playing with loose strands,

while you looked ahead,

knowing what I was yet to find,

still though,

stayed nearby me, letting me believe

this would be ok,

when my fingertips danced the taps

upon your shoulders,

head lean back with a smile,

using the feel of you to find your naked breast

cupped, with a smooth palm

rests underneath,

while gasps break your smile,

the seduction of night shadows,

lighting up your eyes …

I will always remember,

loving you

in the twilight of a crisp fall evening,

when our own special love,

accentuates the warmth we might recall.

Search Sweet the Skies

sundress in fog

Sharp crisp sunlight, seeks some venue,

to entertain the eye.

She, delightful seductive sensuous gait,

allowing only a glance

a wisp as a breeze shudders skin

with sweet cool brilliance,

her body moves motion, wave of desire

perhaps unaware but assure

her now she is beautiful in the wind.

Hers is our brief glimpse.


When last the evening horizon looms

we imagine an ocean mist

shuddering our naked body with swift

current that alive nature speaks

a moon begins slow to caress the sky,

while she dances, alive

legs twirl, body arch to reach content

when we may view elegance

on a hot summer’s night in the sand,

Embrace we too soft the land.


We do have our dreams we live by

those moments we suspend,

a memory allows our return to then

a witness to sheer beauty

again. If were the world to pretend

grace’s passion, a lament

that tears the eye while wishing true

her eyes might see me there,

then certain the need to imagine wild

would only remain notion.


In search, while gales of summer do blow

in certainty her delight in love, I do know.