In life lives a fantasy,
a gentle reminder of a soft journey,
one rampant with a passion,
driven by the essence,
the true nature of knowing,
her every curvaceous tone,
whether it be intellect
or the naked reality …
In imagining woman,
might the man remember
an eternal mystique
shall be her endearment,
the freedom she carries to be
just lovely in every aspect
of her being.
Woe that we do forget
in the throes of a neediness,
a loss of contentment
with recognizing peace,
instead tossing aside the value,
that originating seduction,
for a callous recall,
one that may cause confusion,
detract from any innocence,
to inherit an ugliness toward
It is in that pause,
the reflection of man,
we can realize
there is truth inside the goddess
of our humanity,
that spiritual reckoning
suggests a karmic wave
of true innocence,
the essence of woman
be shared only in the eyes
of sacred love.
in that we recognize beyond the physical pleasures,
there is a softness,
one meant to be honored,
yet, so often in the throes of our personal passions,
we forget to take homage in their own gentle offerings.
we attach sacrifice,
to suggest she is meant to be privileged,
at the expense of man,
without realizing her own contributions,
are meant to be the truth,
not a fantasy,
but a spiritual guidance in the heart of all Man.
I know she is beautiful,
and I relish the opportunity to tell her so,
when in her eyes, I see magic, I see the sunrise,
and I do as evening pulls often feel the sunset,
in her demeanor when a peace,
a needed vacation from all of the torment,
might become her personal homage.
I see her.
Man loves a woman, smiles,
her eyes sparkle,
a stir, sweet gasp.
Man wants to hold her, gently,
he defends her honor.
Man loves a woman
a fire within his body ignites,
A man feels a woman’s love,
she is unable,
he feels tears forever, his own.
A man hears a woman tell of love,
she cries the same.
Man loves a woman,
a woman loves a man.
In a glance,
a smooth gentle curve,
winding around a world,
where my want might remain,
it is in this quiet
the shape of you,
with eyes enhanced,
suggesting I might take you,
suggesting please do take me,
in that moment
I am a wonder in fantasy,
only with a desire might I recall,
the contours of a settling valley,
a surreal stream,
the rising waters will then give me pause,
for it is here in the nature of love,
I do wish to watch springs flow,
the gasps of evening, a sensory paradise,
it is a caress of her sweet remedy,
my dreams become reality.
I can only imagine those moments,
While life around me continues to breathe.
I wonder about state of mind, happiness,
While everywhere I look seems so calm.
Inside my imagination is wishing for touch,
A tangible reminder of her quiet love
I glance out a window at a morning breeze,
The trees settle in motion, a thoughtful tease.
I wonder about her, and where might her eyes,
Find the same motion, her nature, similar leaves
When is the departure of love like the storm ahead,
Our eyes cannot see the future, we only dream
Of what once was, we want badly a return
In softer terms, we won’t let go ever a yearn.
When I think about her, I do want only sweet
Memory to last beyond the hurt so incomplete.
It is different,
after the crossover,
the hesitation, quiet wonder, private …
When the choice is made,
a difficult mantra begins in the mind,
that one says,
“it’ll be ok”
reason matter over second guessing
is that the other way around,
the nature of our being lays the groundwork,
for all reason in the mind,
even when the jump …
A Saturday night,
I am alone with wanderlust desire,
that kinetic energy that drives my soul,
I am afraid,
I may not in the near future,
have the confidence,
the sort of, the, I want, I mean, it’s like
a different take
when drifting slowly across the landscape –
the other side.
When I do touch her,
there is this immediate
sensory need to know pleasure,
not my own,
hers, the sense of where I might be,
will soon discover a gasp,
a garment with my teeth,
a gently bite of her shoulder,
swept away to a naked caress,
and my tongue and lips explore
her every being,
and yet, we are just beginning,
I move with hands on shoulders,
her open neck waiting,
enough to know when touch,
her head flails,
wanting my every motion to capture,
the essence of her woman.
… and then I will let my hands cup
the simple nature of her being,
lips finding, fingertips tracing,
tongue a twirl,
now it is her gasps will let my hands
fall to discover a center,
that part of her beauty I imagine,
only when apart how much I would carefully,
taste her excitement.
For it is then we know there is integrity,
in the nature of woman, in woman,
in her wanting to feel,
wanting to reveal that which will
allow me to reach inside her whole.