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
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.
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
I wasn’t ever really sure what I was listening to
I just did
when I could I would do nothing else
I would let the pictures evolve in my mind,
each story a journey,
each moment a memory
each time I became lost in that moment that was about to replace
just earlier than the last one.
Yet when I stood still
the music would slow until almost inaudible
and there I would be
wondering how I had gotten here.
I could always wait a few more minutes and know
she would be there
soft in the morning sun,
the light of our world peeking through the fabric
her naked legs waiting
while in the moment we could choose to be
when summertime came we felt free
for the notion of cover no longer seemed necessary
when our skin would touch,
the heat would transport us to another world,
that music would come back again,
and we would listen,
I would listen to her every move,
and when she was away,
I could still hear her some more
when you are in love,
well that just happens that way,
don’t you see,
we never really have to see when we are in love.
That day the music changed its timbre
for only a few seconds I could see beyond the trees
and she was gone, and the music played,
and I was left alone,
All around the afternoon we go about our day,
she stays rather quiet in her discreet arena,
rhythm to move, the wood of a chair,
dance upon fabric that helps her reach the sky,
yet all around we go about our day,
her eyes are pensive to her monitor,
serious to the onlooker,
we won’t wonder, and she would like it
Slow, methodical, you can if you look close,
see her ankles twist a tad,
a slight motion of purpose,
her eyes are pensive to her monitor,
her hands appear to type upon the keyboard,
wondering how to simulate that touch she continues,
wood grain rise in the middle of a coffee table chair
to allow her lips to touch, to feel, to want,
Inside the heavy fabric of a cashmere pullover,
her nipples taut, slide as well along the friction of her blouse,
she is alive and wanting and passion is unraveling,
while they sit nearby, paper in their hand.
From afar if a glance goes her way,
the thought is how to get her to look this way,
such beauty and elegance, such determination,
yet no one knows how close she is today,
rocking, slow, dancing, slow, the motion now
causing her arms to tremble a tad, but the focus remains,
fingertips play the keyboard, imagining the free dance
of her delicious reality clothed,
now she will move to rise,
her buttocks placed properly in her seat,
ready now, still remarkably discreet,
to look close might be to see the flush skin,
if someone were to glance past her she might scream,
without fear, with only her release,
surprised eyes might engage, for only a minute,
but for now, the vibration is strong, legs moving,
hands are busy in the public venue,
only she knows the distance that remains,
Her eyes are pensive to her monitor,
her freedom inside of her own special pleasure,
rampant, wanton, delicious … private.
when sounds, the motion of love
When do we move,
while laying close,
do I feel myself release, or is it you,
will my suggested thrust indicate time,
to collapse inside you burying myself
while wedged upon silk buttocks,
my hands now rest slip sweet teased nipples
aching in their own pleasure to rest.
We are so connected we might linger here
arms intertwined, eyes together,
knowing this is us, we have found solace,
we know a certain ritual that brings our
Shall stay … toward calm,
suggests we may.
stay a little longer … inside
tip, touch firm
fingertips losing hold,
repositioning arms under your thighs,
tip, touch, flit
fingertips spread while thumbs glide
‘touch me’ asks for me,
I can see with my eyes,
how beautiful this woman always may be,
if only I treasure her folds.
tips touch with purpose,
round circles while fingertips
slide silk now wet
gasps will send my tongue deep inside,
where fingertips allow that slide,
taste, raw with motions begin …
lips wet with desire,
fingertips now satisfy an aching need,
to create that rhythm,
mouth, lips swallow,
now her gasps ask for more,
faster, oh damn, you stopped,
tip, touch …
we have the night!
on me, with me, around me
move your body to the rhythm
let me feel you come alive
eyes are focused as your move demands the next turn
the next twist, every muscle combined
to sweep your shoulders, legs, hips
with a certain passion that tells me i just want to explore your grace.
Dance with me
while my mind loses itself inside your eyes
staring directly, driving me, taunting me,
while your sweet comes alive, moves, twists
gyrates in such a manner I can only imagine you wrapping your legs around me
in the throes,
in the gasps of sexual release.
Can that beauty I see sweeping the floor to the blues
rock my world inside a dream of desire and climax
Yes I can, you can, we can
dance; dance with me on every floor.