Sunday, May 24, 2015

So Sorry

The last time you held my magical thoughts...
In no mood for what you wanted me to hear.
You made one of those insipid
all encompassing statements you're famous for
With out a second thought, I said so

I am sorry for that

Now as I fidget with the medal, of your pride
A stain of angst sours in my gut, draining me,
pulling my energy from inside out.
There had to be a bit of envy, but now,
It's bronze dull, ribbon faded, meaning lost,

I am so sorry for that

With no more concern than a puppy,
you stood and performed, despite the concerns,
the rumors, the accusations.
We did not, kept our cool, dropped out.
You stood, a prideful grin, ignoring it all.

I am so sorry for that

Dust layers the memories of those times.
Most of the critical elements, forlorn
and with no more grudge than that young puppy
I extend my hand, to lay a dull medal
Where all can see that you stood strong

And I am so sorry

Saturday, February 28, 2015

Melodious Mew

I once knew a cat named Melodious Mew
Her coat she would clean till it shined just like new
Her day was spent sleeping, as much as she could
Yet, nothing would pass her constant review
Especially the dogs in the old neighborhood

Her nemesis the bloodhound was old and sprue
Famous was he for his wandering through,
Her Garden, where he'd deliver his calling card
And so she had named him, Copious Poo
And scorned such deposits in her pristine yard

Sweet little dignified Melodious Mew 
Would wait all day long for Copious Poo
To amble along all rumpled and droopy
A sniffing and drooling contented old fool
Her stealthy position, up high in the fruit tree

Then just as her target began his foul deed
She would drop on his back from where she was treed
And deliver a fright to Copious Poo
He'd dash from her garden with all of God's speed
And return to her nap, would Melodious Mew

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Butterfly Woman

Days passed on the wide prairie, the Sun pounded the tall grasses while overhead a lone cloud barely shaded a distant clutch of cottonwoods, presently the woman emerged from among the trees. She walked defiantly up the long incline, a wooden bucket handle in either hand. Water tossed by her steady movements, soaking either side of her long skirt, but gradually she made her way up the slope toward the solitary wagon. The resounding wind tugged at the canvas coverings and starlings cavorted in the tall switches of grass, bounding from one stiff blade to another, plucking the unsuspecting grass hoppers as they inched their way up the long green stems.
Reaching the wagon the woman rested against the wheel carefully avoiding the mass of brown grease at the wheels center. Her small foot raised to step up on the hub and just as directly her other foot held the hem and once up the height of such a high step her wet skirt stayed revealing her slender waist and hips to the young man beneath the wagon.
“Mercy” she exclaimed in alarm, and just that moment he looked to see those fine legs as the heavy wet skirt slide down to her ankles.
It's good... good! some help?” he asked, perceiving her discomfort.
“No , no, I don't!” she replied, stepping back down and reaching for the missing waistband. Immediately her feet tangled in the heavy cloth and she lost her balance, falling back into the tall grass.
“Josh help, help good.” the brave stated resolutely, rising and gripping her hand. He quickly lifted her to her feet. His strength was surprising to her and she landed in his arms, flustered and pleasuring at the chest muscles in her hands.
“Really, it's fine, I am good, you are good, um very fine. Yes, you are fine now?” She asked her patient. “You are much better today?” This seemed all to obvious and the morning sun blinded her eyes while she turned to cover her lower portions and pantaloons.
Injun Josh watched in confusion as she struggled to get her feet stead properly to lift and cover her embarrassment. She stepped back and turned modestly to fetch the waist hooks back into place only to find them ripped completely out and nothing to complete the clasp.
He stood confused and wondered at the discomfort of all this clothing, now he finally knew that white women had legs just like his kind. All this confused him, since his fever came upon him he had suffered in the hot days and nights in barely a loin cloth, and she suffered in these long hot hip blankets and blouses over corsets.
“Leave!” he said, pointing to the wrap. “So hot! You not need this.” a long pause passed between them as she gathered he might be right. He looked in her face and she knew he was right. Silently she went to the water bucket and washed her sweaty face, a slight discomfort passed as Injun Josh went about his business putting on his leggings, drinking from the cool water and stretching up tall to finally feel rested and alive after the fever, now searching the skyline for any cause of concern. When he turned back he caught Mrs Gillette staring at his bare back and she quickly looked to her grooming with a little blush.
“They come back now?” Josh asked in his awkward English. “It is time they be come here back?” But there was a long pause from her and he knew she was distressed at this question.
“No, Josh, not for some time now. Say, 'they will be back in three days'...” He repeated this and saw her distress. “Food is slight. I am much more hungry and you must be too.” She studied the direction of the wagon wheels and saw nothing that gave her comfort there. Immediately Josh took up his knife and turned to go.
“I am not asking you to leave, not go.” The small woman asked and went to Josh, her wet face hid a tear of her fearful state. She'd had some doubt as to what should be done for the young man, as it seemed his illness may have come on with some reason to believe he could have contracted it from her young girl at their first meeting. Scarlet fever was serious for most and worse for the natives. But once the men had left for supplies, she knew she had to remain at the wagon to try to keep the young Indian from passing on with fever. Now he was leaving her all alone in this huge flat grass land with no food or protection.
“You stay, I go...” He motioned with his hand toward his mouth, “get food” he finished. And turned to go, as a hand landed on his shoulder. He turned back to find Mrs Gillette fall into his arms, weeping and holding his arms in her cools wet hands.
“Oh, thank God!” she weep-ed at his ear and he could only hold her and patted her distressed head. There was weakness in her body and Josh knew she was suffering, weak probably from lack of food. Slowly he set her in the matted grass and she gripped his hand hesitantly. “You will return?” she asked passionately, a crack in her voice. “I shall simply die, if you fail to return to me.” In the long spells of his fever while he deliriously shivered and cried out, she bathed his dark shape in cool water and studied his good form. She had lain next to him as he shivered, his chill shook them both to the bone. Certain he was marked for death, her reservations had flown and with no medicine or anyone to see she had become enchanted with his handsome features. Now she was torn from fear of his loss and ashamed at having grown so close to the young man. 

Josh could not possibly understand what this woman was feeling, his confusion was growing with his own fascination for her cheerful voice and the box with strings she played so magically from her shoulder. He had been smitten by her early on but thought it better to make that silent in his heart.
Now he stood and lightly held her hand with both of his looking like rough dark paws. Quickly she wrapped her arms about his waist and hugged him from where she knelt, in a moment Josh took her arms from his hips and looked down into her light blue eyes, the tears shown wet in her gaze as he touched her pale cheek. She held his hand tight against her cheek, and felt his pulse pounding under his flesh. He was beginning to stroke her long curly hair as slowly a noticeable growth was swelling in his britches. She smiled and blushed with her impassioned thoughts. Tugging on his arm she pulled him onto the grassy thatch and they held tight to one another rolling into a full embrace in the throws of sighs and soft eyes holding a close gaze their minds became fixated in longing bliss.
A warm gust licked at the wet skin of their bare arms and picked and twisted at their clothes now slowly loosening and tiny buttons in fumbling fingers. His young desire was callow in her hands, gently she stroked his warm face, a butterfly landed on her bare shoulder opening and closing it's bright wings, it seemed to be curious and approving.
“You... this is your new name, what's called?”
“Butterfly?” She asked softly putting her finger near the visitor. It opened it's wings to draw in the sunshine and gently lifted to drift about their bright smiles.
“Butterfly Woman” Josh said clearly, and put a light kiss on the spot.
“Think you” She responded in her clean musical French accent, “Bootefly Wemin” her voice soft and lingering. She held his face close and gave him the longest kiss she had ever known. His hands were under her blouse holding her against his bare chest and she pulled back with a gasp. His face was full of curiosity and she knew that this was what she wanted so very badly and nothing would ever compare with what she had known with her husband. Here was a power of true passion and it gave her heart more fire than she had ever imagined possible. Slowly she slid off her shirt and unhooked the front of her bodice. The pale soft flesh of her ginger chest showed fine round breasts with small pink nipples. Josh was surprised to not see the dark brown orioles of his women, the firmness gave an inspired rise in him and tenderly his hands closed on both to find perfection in such as this touch. Her mind was spinning with anticipation as her hand caressed his back while pushing his long black hair off his face.
“The butterfly opens to the sun, I am a son...” He lowered his hand to touch her rump and indeed she opened to the son.
“Give me all your manly organ...I know it is ready for me.” As her hands explored his britches and she was not incorrect. She discovered the thing of her expectant joy and removed it for him with her gentle hands. Deliberately she made firm her grip and instantly Josh shirked with excitement and exploded into her hands. Momentarily she waited to see if what she thought, had just happened, and then she began to softly laugh to herself. He was so new to this, probably a virgin, she thought. But he looked pleased and soon he had risen back to his feet.

“Make soon food, wait you.” Josh said with a big smile and turned to go search for a good willow limb to make a rabbit snare. As he walked off disappearing into the tall grass she laughed aloud and dreamed of what she would do differently come dark.

Sunday, February 15, 2015

To see the Dark

Eyes like coal
Heart of stone
In the beginning
You think you're a god
That's what you can see
In the Dark

Till you learn
To fear not death
Mark the day
You walk the night
Stifle life and
Be the dark

Render the blood
Of the disbeliever
Teach to fear
The light,
To see
The dark

Hollow the heart
To be like a god
They who do not
Never shall dance
Till the rigor mortise 
Shall finally depart?

Tuesday, January 27, 2015

Winter Voices

Night's passions
Escape from the outside
Warm on the inside
Dreams for the soul.
Will hushed voices
Answer the prescient night?
Can hearts know minds,
And time become
Allied to the soul?

Bring your song to the window...
...and know the voice of the wind.

Tuesday, December 30, 2014

The Model (light erotica)

The Model

A hitchhiker stood slouching in the chilly mountain sun...his red bandanna kept the long hair from his eyes.
Distant sounds approached.......a dark green Land Rover appeared. It slowed, and stopped.
Beside the road, he waited as the passenger door slowly opened.
Knowing nothing about each other they stared at one another....a notion passed between them, he got in.
She looked over her dark glasses at him....the pause in time was broken by a slight smile which he sported with fine looking women. He took a sip of wine and offered her a taste.
Her frock was thin, a sun dress, odd attire for winter, but what was beneath was exquisite.
"I like the way the light plays with your crotch, the razor seems to be your friend?" He murmured.
"Mmmm" her pale pink lips did not part, she pulled ahead onto the road.
Walking across New Zealand he carried only a pack, and a bottle of cheap port, his mission was simple. When ever the the boundaries of the planet are erased, the image of intent is shared in many the veils of mystery descend, the valleys and mountains become all but touchable, unless we find ourselves vicariously in our own grip of touching friendship.
"I can take you down the hill..." she offered looking with the mirror, "after that, who knows?"
"That offers a glimpse of possibility." he returned, noting the outline of a firm breast glowing beneath the thin cloth, and lit by the morning sun..."it's fine."
"Sort of hehe. You like the play of light?" she flirted, sneaking a glimpse of his whiskered chin, and drinking in a little of his arm muscles as he rolled a sleeve back up, downing another swig.
"I like the play of touch, and how the one hand will caress the invisible," he returned in a slow hesitating voice, calm and melodic with assurance.
"You some sort of poet?" she quizzed, lifting her arm slightly, allowing his view a bit of side breast.
"Actually I am, among other things..." he returned and noticeable studied the pale flesh that revealed no under things..." and you are?"
"A life model, on my way to art class, so I dress light, does my attire suite you?"
"It does, very much....." his warm hand was into her back now and while he studied her flexing lips, she managed the road and still held eye contact with him in the mirror, their gaze hypnotic.
Softly he knew the length of her nails by simple impression her loose hand made on his fore arm, as he located the details of her spine his fingers hot with desire.
A small nipple peeked at his gaze knowing him through the gauzy shift, chilly with excitement, and the feel of anothers purview, it tingled at the knowledge of being touched by did the man who has been seen for the first time, his member being gathered from it's hiding place by a free hand, exalted at the very touch of a new friend.
"I crossed ten thousand miles searching for one good smile" The poet sighed.
"Mmmm. This feels like poetry to me...." Her eye lapsed from the road to observe an alert reaction. "A +, from this teacher. Ummmm." And rewarded herself with a ten thousand mile sigh..."beautiful!"
In one emotion she said a mouthful, and his sigh could be heard from a thousand miles away
One slight finger could know more in a moment than an entire book could relay in 500 pages...the slightest touch sent sensations down to her toes as he tweaked a nipple and found a slight fold that brought her backside off the seat for a minute as her hand dove into his privates for introduction.
"Hello, stranger...wanna give it a go?" his hand slid along her tingling thigh to mingle along the warm folds that wakened quickly with his curious touch.
"Oh you are good" she purred and clasped the tightly pulsing extension of his yearning groin.
Warm sun light shown brightly, all the reasons two people need to feel their long distance touch, it cast a shadow in all the right places...where only touch was required. Still gazing with each other through the rear view mirror, the breasts show nipples proud, the sun shown directly through fine fabric as one grateful breast winked to the're next sister....
"I had hoped to meet the locals...." he sighed and lifted the hem to view a throbbing pink button, expecting his whetted finger tip but longing for a few miles more. Pressing long and drawing back sharply, the delay and then lifting held a controlled force inside his middle that shot forces into his senses like a delayed sensation of yearning and delight all brought to bear in tense powerful triumph.
"Um (blushing scarlet) I have...come to conclusion shall we say..." she gasped, one hand glued to the wheel, sighing back into the seat and noting a speed of great excess. Easing off the gas she strummed more quickly and just with a sideways glance got the results pulsing and flowing over Mr. Johnson's red swollen head and heard a long grateful gasp and a shudder in fingers that could be felt deep inside her. Tiny circles danced round her sweet pink delights, as the tip of his tongue found a salty reward from fine firm globes where sensations, bounded on soft touch, a twist, a hot breath and wet powerful sucking.
"This is where I pull in" she announced almost apologetically. She smiled as he gathered himself in buttons and wiping with his red bandanna, she slipped her shift back into place.
"Guess what?" he asked as casually as you please, "I got my Birthday wish"
"What's that, a ride from a stranger?" she smiled broadly and checked her hair in the mirror.
"No, I got to have a dress up birthday experience without going down under.... and some writing material. So when is yours?"
"Never mind mine, it is still your day!" She smiled back and as he closed the door she picked up enough frock to show him the pink icing on her cake. :-) 

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Mutual Inhabitants

Winter bids its minor birds
To sing at my window

Their stilted song
Cuts through the pane

Grateful for my unruly
Thatch of vines

We turn against the cold
Braced in our solace

Mutual inhabitants of a
Poorly constructed life

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Tribal Thunder

Travails outlast the frosty dawn
Infused with cold your heart beats on
Through retched ice and snow
On raged feet you feebly go

Hold true! Go fast! Look not back!
The spirits lift your eyes, down cast

Return a while, in stillness lay
You hold within your hearts convey
A store of wonder, knowledge true
Deny it not, somehow, you knew

Hold true! Go fast! Look not back!
The spirits lift your eyes, down cast

Your journey long, a past you shed
Far more in wonder looms ahead
Unleash your soul to wander on
Study not how things have gone

Arch high thy spirit to the sky
Shed mind and body, alight and fly
The beating chant, allures your soul
A tribal thunder your ears console

Pull back no more, go on, live pure
Ahead the sky breaks dawn azure
You can't imagine what will be
At peace to stride the grassy sea

Sunday, November 9, 2014

My Summer Breeze

courtesy photo; Salento's Light

You are my Summer breeze
Whispering down
Into my thoughts

Softly caressing my stoic face
Chasing my emotions,
My troubles my pains, away

Departing the brutal air
Flicking playfully with my shirt
Nudging me softly on

Tenderly lifting me
To dance away
Cooley, embracingly light

So slightly you breeze through
My Summer night
Leaving me calm and rested

Monday, October 20, 2014

She Wore a Big Pistola
and hardly shirked a chore
but once we tried her cooking
t'was none went back fer more

Her answers mean as horse whips,
when talk was loud and raucous,
and the bottle passing round...
No man she could not out cuss.

She Wore a Big Pistola,
her aim was always true.
No critter suffered by her,
it's head be shot clean through.

Her station to all was common,
rough as a curly haired mule.
But when we finally laid her deep,
seems Julius had been a Jewel.

Oooh my!