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 “nostalgia

In A Familiar Setting

I’m surrounded by a memory with a visual tear,

volumes, bindings, words waiting upon hands

and eyes, I remember her eyes

would cause me swoon,

when suddenly in the minute I turn,

she would stand, alone, content,

her chosen travels inside the parchment

only to pause to smile.


I remember moments well, and yearn

to see a familiar shoulder, a wisp of hair,

oh, her eyes, I wish only for those once more.

Morning Wonder


It is when, the early moments, eyes still heavy with dreams,

focus upon the physical, wood frame reaching walls,

the mind in slow motion begins a greeting,

a notice, a painting, ties, the dresser is a haven,

in morning wonder he does ask forgiveness in absent mind.


Roll onto his back and sense another,

yet the isolation is familiar, a partner in animosity,

tender in notion, until reality again suggests a fatal flaw,

not dangerous, only a sadness that has long ago manifested

the linens that prevail to simply cover sleeping bodies,

morning wonder now has eyes on spattered ceiling.


A fan rolls smooth, winds with purpose, reminds fantasy,

if we focus on only the shadows of rotation,

we could,

if only for a moment,

imagine siesta in a warm climate,

the fan offering reprieve from scorching heat,

yet this one is cosmetic in northern wood.


Stretch his body, know that soon a waking reminder,

the day ahead, the tasks so yearned,

lay back on his side, tucking an arm underneath,

look out to the wall and imagine

her eyes, waking to find his own.

Oh, if that moment could be right now.


Adrift In Peace


In step with love your peace alive

where when my mind runs amok

playful in shallows she will strive

to wonder if his love be just luck.


She will bask in the beauty of time

knowing when he did offer a bliss

she is a dream rosemary and thyme

for away he is gone his love amiss.


We once share the river in a throe

a place where intimacy did wild

allow our bodies intermingle go

until nightfall sated; now exiled.


She might exist on buoyant plane

sweet reminisce, her arousal alone

he recalls her in elegance plain,

that mistake the current has grown.


I do wander in time search my release

I imagine yes she remains adrift in peace.

When Autumn Leaves Recall

If I could,

in a moment of fury,

I might bring back all of my desire,

somehow cap off an immediate need

to show you how much I do,

put you on a pedestal,

I would worship any notion

if in a glance,

might you allow tears to flow,

a knowing nod to suggest the pain

of losing you,

will remain in any state of nostalgia

you choose to let me feel.

If words were simply the measure

they are meant to be,

without feelings interfering,

if in that literal sense,

I might have a moment to

breathe in,

to arouse my senses with the beauty

of your sensuality,

that living freedom that when in your arms,

allowed my smile,


to never need encouragement,

only a space,

a place to allow the moment to last forever.

This is where I Cry

when after many hours of wandering,

the lights of the city begin to fade with the morning dawn,

I remember well the streams of car lights

always wondering

though never seeing the vacant eyes staring past me,

and now the walk is the same

sidewalk with cracks that remind me of my

childhood I suppose, always memory takes me somewhere

but never completely away from where I am tonight,

same place, again,

just like last night with the occasional bump in the road.

I can feel exhausted with no place to go,

always suspicious,

forever an ache of if only perhaps that day back

when I can no longer remember,

but I know it exists,

I know it is there

I realize in just a minute that every notion in my mind,

brings me back to you.


The sad reality is that way down in Hollywood,

they wrote this script I seem to model my life around,

and yet, even in the most idyllic terms,

where the guy does get the girl …


well it all just sort of fades away before I can finish that final scene.

Serenity in Delicious Tones

When alone I can breathe in sweet elegance,

I am living a distant fantasy,

I could begin with her eyes,

yet today, I am nearing her from a different

point of view.

Just simply standing nearby,

leaning against a wall, head tucked,

so bangs fall,

cascading rivers, streams guiding my fall,

then will the eyes watch me wander,

still always there to see me smile,

feel my pain,

endure my own shallow wash off in the sand.

I would if I might recall,

bring you further beyond memory,

to hold you close, to feel an energy,

so electric, I was always afraid to really tease,

knowing somehow you would give me shock,

the reality of your whole being set apart,

from the river’s mouth, a giant sea of indecision,

that which I would forever fail,

to navigate.

Miles away the land mass seems agreeable,

yet one simple shift in posture

and my world comes raining down,

with little pity,

beyond the need to acknowledge,

life contains these valleys, left aside,

after the cleansing had finally drifted by,

the soils seeping with the damp reminders

of what once might have been,

what now seemed to enrich itself,

while I could only gaze on.

Spiritual Muse

Whisper winds

breeze driven maples,

the city lights contain our soul,

when, if we choose,

we might allow notion,

to bury our spiritual mecca,

in order we find,

a new avenue,

a new place to ,

a newer model of sanity.

Yet always brought back,

we are,

to this place,

once visited,

sweet to our eyes,

we did travel well then,

a purposeful journey,


love’s transfixed

manner of waking.

Are we awake

when we recall,

or is it then

the time

our lives begin

a single journey,

a reckoning of

a previous pattern of soul.

I will say hello,

I will dance,

in the quiet of night


of sweet muse,

I am with tear,

in knowing beauty,

in seeing her eyes,

mystique drawn around

sadness with fire.

Isn’t it always in the heart,

that our lives

begin again,

once removed the fear,

once appreciate love.

I am walking

the sky is clean of any acid

drawn moisture, that seemingly

threatens my existence,

yet continues to fall.

As I round the corner,

she is there, nearby.