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!

Posts tagged “soul

Hope Remains

Look outside the sunlight shadows the morning mood,

there’s a partial overcast sky,

suggests an incomplete meaning,

there would seem to be a distant pain

exists in her heart.


He would try to simply hold on to measure,

the beating pulse of angst she wish

would a challenge meet his own heart,

a yearning,

a desire beyond the normalcy

of knowing love could be trusted


without necessary definition.


We do imagine what our heart believes,

that if in a sudden turn,

her eyes might be in his again,

he would take her tears and meet them with his own,

if only,

in this moment the door would be open,

if the sudden luxury of peace,

could then step inside the vacancy

left bruised in


my soul.

In Knowing Why

A slow burn,

the gradual release

when the mind,

chooses to listen

rather then react to the news.


I know I love,

hearts strings touch reality

exist in my every breath,

each moment I glance,

the look is for her eyes.


Yes there is a certain peace

in knowing

when no longer the confusion

implies a fabrication,

or suggests impulsivity.


Today the warmth of truth,

skin against skin,

I do, did, will touch the world

when in my arms

she allows me to carry her heart.


My soul, your mystique,

my life, your love,

the beauty of passing time,

our energy real,



Sweet muse, sweet love,

in my soul I sing aloud,

I breathe freely,

my heart feels whole

knowing her.

In This A Somber Mist

I find the strength to move forward,

in the reminder of her beauty,

that which I could only grasp a real,

no longer any sweet fantasy.

I stand along a river edge in memory,

the sunlit banks of summer,

her hands in my hair, mine in her own,

we did know our surroundings.


In the wonder of time, my life an event,

now the curtains close and dust

begins to settle around the swept wood

where our dance would stir the world.

I, in fond retrospect, hold only one regret

when to imagine the elegance of love,

one could only hold on to dreams alone,

just nostalgic recall of her delight.


While every motion, each autumn stood near

we did a spectacular journey appreciate,

the hands of care , the eyes of certain demand.

Those were the minutes of our time.

Would love ever allow our reality to swoon,

in the shadow of a neighbor, a friend, child

we gathered strength to know the cause,

when time did finally spell our lives to part.


Oh to know the essence of what is this value love,

when pain and sickness do in place of real command.




I’m Still Here

I wonder sometimes when people glance,

if the resonate nature of being human

lasts beyond a moment,

just past the time it takes to see

whatever it is they need in their own lives

to respond accordingly.


I took a walk in early morning chill,

strolled past frosted windows,

ice sculptures lit with calendars,

made from ice cream tubs

consumed and cleaned and saved

for holiday accent the neighbors might see.


I wander through the world with certainty

brings me to my destination,

like a Simon and Garfunkel melody,

I seem to realize the world around me,

except to suggest any confidence

in anyone ever understanding me.


We all have secrets, paths, ambitions,

though seldom are we told,

to share our deepest plans with the person

just nearby without a care,

instead we keep the door open

to a new voice, perhaps the one that matters.


I have to step gingerly through my day

sometimes, in order to avoid the reckoning,

that part of me that defines my love.

Based on the neighborhood and quiet walks,

the eyes suggest so much otherwise,

that when I think of her I cry.


I always do look for those eyes that help guide me,

the ones that hold my soul wherever I may go.

Eyes, Time, Love

While in a quiet state of mind,

I was oft to be remind,

of a beautiful woman with spectacular eyes.

She would dance a carousel, inspire a man,

in laughter and smile,

so there he would notice her window of love.

Oh to know the memory of a soul

whereby I could bestow

Certain love that reminds me her sight is true.

Sweet is the fire of passionate sensuality,

the sort of inspired drama of love,

is spoken in eyes my desire does my heart remind.

Her Eyes


I always wonder why it is we select a certain pause,

a step away from the carousel

to recognize the peace in another’s eyes.


Caught in the madness,

that self-righteous monster,

reeking of certain guilt, shame, callous

indifference if only to know the

other side before that

market has opened their shutters for business.


We are a riotous lot

who conclusion stirs

long before the beauty of time allows grace

the upper hand.


So often it is late in the game,

when man in incessant pity

does come to terms with love

to know the sweet tears that exist

inside the soul of her gift.


She is that gift as evidenced in her eyes.

A Peace for You

I wrote that,

on a day where psyche

ruled upon human nature.

When two lives

might cross paths,

windows to our soul,

perhaps battling demons.

We could glance,

a sort of natural dance

just the two of us

enveloped in a public eye.

Beauty does that to a man,

allows him to let go of focus,

a presumed innocence

ignites that fire within.

A muse in the natural wood

might a sprite if he could

garner an excitement, sensual

in her mystique she plays free.

How far will travel in fantasy

preserve a common trail home.

We live in moments of scrutiny

always a question might answer

a prayer soon asked to receive

yet origins could well deceive.

I would that she feel peace

in knowledge an animate siren.