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 “waiting

Steal Away Steel

He would


a sudden hope

if only

a memory might

draw upon her soul,

this familiar

knowledge of now,

the rains,

would he wish to steal away,

yet, somber like the

natural course of a fever

drawn cold upon

a glancing steel.

Tiresome Medley

He could play these songs,

she would listen, laugh, lounge about,

t’were the latter in coincidence

could create pleasure in his eyes.


T’was her ability to cast a smile,

a knowing sort of ‘let’s dance’

kindly in her own quiet romance

he would rest his soul upon her gasp.


She might wish then to be understood,

oh he wanted to, oh so badly he

cried his eyes out over such indifference,

falling easily in the path of her affections.


She did manage the truth far easily

he chose a different path readily

aware the obstacles would merit,

simple reality, sweet its lost serenity.


Once in awhile he decides upon a wait,

well its compelling nature a subtle fate.

Lost Days

So many days,

countless hours,

I would wait for her,

wishing, sort of hoping,

wondering if she knew

how much I would

want for the need of

wondering how she

felt that day, today,

every day in her world,

I wanted to know,

to imagine,

to see her elegance,

in its grace,

capture the eyes,

the hearts, minds,

the children’s laughter,

every hour

I wanted her to know

she does touch lives,

in a manner,

much like she did touch

my own,

my heart,

my tears,

my yearning for another

moment in her arms,

a touch,

a soft and predictable kiss,

toward a new journey.

Every day

I wanted her to know.


Tonight, I’m only asking,

as much as I know

the answer,

I’m wanting to know.

Watching Traffic


As a young boy, he in the picture window,

would watch the trails of evening glow,

often wander in his mind upon a scene

unbeknownst to his fairy tale he’d glean

a story time, a response to travelers whim

that only resonated deep inside of him.


Oh to take away this permanence he’d feel

to understand such whirring of the wheel,

if by the instance of time in perpetual motion

he somehow be compelled to feel emotion

might then a pleasing notion allow a release

his frame to transport the window sill to peace.


Sitting by windows watching worlds rewind

their earlier response to the gradual mind.

We all might pause to wait upon a fantasy

whereby that love we seek may suddenly see

Oh to know the beauty of time’s recognition

when caught inside our dream’s elation.


Inside the glass will always remain a chance

recall of beauty’s elegance, her eyes enhance.

Could You Then

We didn’t have instant access, only our minds

I couldn’t snapchat my state of mind

nor might I understand yours without time.

I waited though, and thought if the call came,

I might find happiness again,

with you and me,

not that overall necessary happiness in life,

just the meaning of you and me.

The call never came we know,

and I left for the city riding the heels of

Electric Light Orchestra,

spoke of a phone call, that even today,

if the call came I’d answer,

and I did in email,

you listened, I listened,

we spoke of honesty, and we trailed away.

I couldn’t believe that 35 years later, the same feelings returned.

I wonder if that’s true of you,

there must be some aspect of me in you, as I wish there were you in me.

we did know each other once,

you walked to me like an angel too recently

for me to imagine otherwise.

I miss that opportunity to be

soulful all over again,

yet, when I think about why,

I realize there isn’t a realistic end,

yet memory, such beautiful times,

can stay with us forever,

however brief,

always real.

I suppose that might be the piece

keeps me waiting,


the phone just never really rang,

I knew it wouldn’t, yet, optimism,

that ‘could’ reality,

keeps silent vigil over nostalgic dreams.

Social Chatter

If I might ask her, I wonder if she be aroused,

in the silk drape her lovely bodice,

Of course, then I might quiet wonder if just

the notion of asking her excite her.

Well then there I would be the man holding

onto a notion of fantasy about her

while she may still decide she’d rather dart

out the door than deal with a come on.

Yet we all know that thinking is only my own,

I’ve not a clue of the lovely woman I swoon


If I might reach and run my fingertips along

open thighs, I wonder if he would arouse

in the moment he felt my touch, caress his

desire as he alone awaits his next action.

Would he react with polite smile and hand

upon my soft aching wrist to pull away,

suggesting now’s not the time, he’s only

waiting out the hour to board his train,

Yet we all know the human condition might

very well have her wet while waiting near.


I wonder if lives might be so easy on a mid-day afternoon,

waiting the train, engaged by our sudden sweet swoon

Sweet Edge, Slow Remedy

That time,

eyes closed,

short drawn calculated,

skin on skin,

your wrap,

my shaft,

will slow to a rhythm suggests,

I will play with your needs,

if you want, let, if you, oh my if i,

we do this together.

Feel me, taste you, lips so passionate,

biting my own as we taunt our certain climax.

Now there is rhythm,

the music changed and we naturally adapted,

both in control of our one desire,

still not wanting to push too hard,

yet an occasional,


breathless she agonizes a delicious smile,

yearning, asking, knowing, rising closer to a,

we will do this for awhile.

Pause, inside, fully engorged in silvery moon,

a nipple awaits, allows a distraction,

still the fury that wants to rock my world,

to be rocked, swollen in cascading fall of rushing winds,

I will taste your nipple if you let me please,

yes, please me, yes, now, wait, I slip out of your dream,

disappear in your melody,

until taste might alert you.

Oh this game you play you chuckle your fingertips


in my hair, pull me close, my tongue alive

your center thrust to my delight,

a free hand wraps around me,

stroke me,

let me be the one to feel a need to let go,

yet, you’re close, clit alive, yearning,

my tongue enjoys the flavor of succulent you,

writhing now, shall we this time,

your hands let go, grab the edges,

rolled up sheets in fists as I drive my fingers inside,

tongue working magic, a delight you offer me,

with beautiful sacrifice of your own will,

and yet, I stop, and you groan,

oh, that fateful, fuck you, just fuck me now will you …

I oblige.