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 “yearn

Watching The Rains Speak


I listened,

the drops upon my conscious soul

spoke to a memory,

a time when we would know

the forever could always remain.

In the rains,

I could recall,

when cradled in her arms, my lips touching sweet skin,

soft her gasp,

a yearn

trace

hers were mine,

our fingertips

intertwine,

… and the rains they fell in line.

 

I remember knowing this was

where I belonged,

only wishing she did feel the same.

 

The rains became our silence.


Waking to Song


I woke to their singing

remember

your stories of how song

connected our lives

their calls

across the avenues

of our quiet dreams.

I waited …


Truth Is Love


music plays quiet reminder

body and soul does yearn

a want to feel presence

yet silent recall

is his only calculate device.

 

woke to a familiar scene

long thrown hair danced

upon his chest in rest

she stretched alongside

skin upon skin

white linen shroud.

 

he does hold on to the vision

the ‘nook’ a descriptor

she gave him with sweet smile

her lips upon his

passion unbridled

he does stir in his alone.

 

She is his truth.

 


Just This


time seems a distance

yet wait would forever be

we revisit chance


Touch Think


59ECFF0C-BE3C-4AA5-89D7-741E54831703

I do wish my hands
her yearn
tells me so
perhaps she only suggests
beauty how I linger to feel
my palm
cause her needing
gasps
she waits, she arches, she feels
might be a wanton need
oh let me man’s
want fulfill
caress human condition
yet
Is love a wanton
pose.


This Heart


fond

in her absence fond

would while away a magic wand

my heart and soul respond


The Breeze in a Shadow


It’s when there is a quiet,

a silent breeze, filters the memory,

the leaves respond,

small animals raise shackles,

the oxygen is swift,

a desire to bite the thin air.

 

It’s when imagination is only

the sweet remedy to fear,

when might she know,

where, how, it is in the sudden

anxiety of loss, the breeze

begins a suggestion of a gale force.

 

It’s when he would rather,

step around the corner,

the reality of life is sudden,

a turn, a gust, a shattered dream

might indicate some passing storm,

where love is always near.

 

If only he might ride the crest of a wave,

sudden dips, at the highest would she wave.