Why


Nudes in Wiesbaden, Germany

Nudes in Wiesbaden, Germany (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

She asks me why I love her
and what I see in her
and I smile;
such riches in one
is a rare thing.

If I could build a woman,
a partner to be
complete in all things important
I would love her
for she would be my living dream.

A mind
filled with knowledge
with skill to engage
in meaningful conversation.
Open, honest, and sincere;
such fertile ground on which to grow.
Serious and funny balance each other.
With many interests
both large and small things pleasing.
Family ties not to be broken;
blood, as important as air and water.
Face, hair, and body
so perfect to me.
It is my dream in living flesh.

This dream is not new
and I have tried to fit
women into this pre-cast mold;
but when the excitement of newness
fell by the wayside
the dream remained unfilled…
there is an emptiness in me.

But she has lived for many years
in my most inner sanctums;
a pourage of heart, emotion, and feelings
seasoned by all things important…
a feast of mind and body
feeding mind and body.
How can I not love her?

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Ashes to Ashes


Brasas!

Brasas! (Photo credit: eliazar)

Like the Sphinx
rising from the dead
a friendship rekindles
from the smoldering ashes of long ago
left unattended.

The warmth from the flames
feels different
from where each stands
heating each
in a different way.

The fire burns me
and I react swiftly
and in haste
I stir up all
that she does not want.

forest fire smoke

forest fire smoke (Photo credit: LizMarie_AK)

She pulls away
for I am on fire
and shower her
with smoke and ash…
I have smothered her.

She sends me away
to save herself from the flames
that I must extinguish
before she will let me
see her again.

Many weeks have passed;
the flames subsided
yet the risk is ever present
that even a small breeze
could the ashes re-ignite.

With caution
I engage her
to trust me
that I will not
offend her senses.

Feelings and emotions
so strong
as to make these weeks
without her
feel like a lifetime.

The Book


Old Book

Old Book (Photo credit: Frisno)

I can still see it
in this old man’s mind’s eye…
even after the great cleansing
the picture burns brightly
every story told contained within…
so large it was.

I remember the burnings;
and those that would protect it
would burn also.
They called it “The Enlightening”…
thoughts controlled, and words unliked
removed from common intercourse
it… being the source of knowledge…
obliterated.

New words acceptable to the Learned
now control us…
our native tongue infected;
we can no longer express that which we think.
Silence has given way to a term long forgotten
but kindred to its former use
as we flock to the speak-easy
where those of old
share wisdom long since vanquished…
sharing words forgotten…

My Love Is Like A Tree


The weekend done
I leave her
driving home…
the two – hour drive
a constant smile affixed.

Sharing food; and wine
mouth to mouth
so sensual… so pleasing
sunlight and rain showers to me
as my emotions and feelings grow.

So deep… the roots of love
firmly anchored
like the roots of a great tree
conquering all before it
each loving act…they grow yet stronger.

 

 

Picture credit:  http://www.mywedding.com/blog/wp-content/gallery/amber-josh/35-couple-walking-away-willow-tree-dusk-dramatic.jpg

She Is A Part Of Me


After love making

After love making (Photo credit: Matt Romack Photography)

I sleep
arms and legs intertwined
body against body
skin to skin
letting each other know
this is where we want to be.

A comfort to my mind and body
sleep comes quickly
her constant touch
bringing pleasant dreams.

Her absence
my body senses
as it sends out feelers
arms and legs
her to find
unable to… I wake.

She is a part of me.

Time Apart


Alternative version of image:Wooden hourglass ...

Alternative version of image:Wooden hourglass 2.jpg. Wooden hourglass. Total height:25 cm. Wooden disk diameter: 11.5 cm. Running time of the hourglass: 1 hour. Hourglass in other languages: 'timglas' (Swedish), 'sanduhr' (German), 'sablier' (French), 'reloj de arena' (Spanish), 'zandloper' (Dutch), 'klepsydra' (Polish), 'přesýpací hodiny' (Czech), 'ampulheta' (Portugese). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Time apart… passes so slowly…
as hours and days are counted
my mind not kept busy
time stops.

Wrestless at night
she is not here
morning bringing a new count
as time passes slowly…
cold molasses through the hour glass.

Unfair…
time together… as
molasses turns to water
making time pass so quickly
two days become one… and she is gone.

Dreams of the time
the hour glass no longer plays…
hours and days become weeks and months
and months turn into years.

The Pouring


1/2 way through a pour

1/2 way through a pour (Photo credit: bettlebrox)

With good intentions
I emptied my heart;
feelings and emotions flowed
like molten metal poured,
not knowing
will she be burned
or take pleasure
in its final form?

I wait;
smoke and spark
filling space and time
dissipating slowly.
I can see her
and wait again.
Burned or pleased?
Time, such an unforgiving force.