Traveling to Boston right now and need something to keep my mind busy. A poem to all my lurkers. I see you Watching me Reading words that Arouse, stimulate, titillate you My special voyeur Peeking in Breathing me in And out, in and out I open up for Undress for Am vulnerable for Your eyes …
A duel purpose post. The Sunday Whirl providing the words and Five Sentence Fiction the prompt. Prompt: Edge — I’m on it. Teetering, tottering A sigh away from tumbling off it Over the threshold into oblivion It’ll welcome me in A release of control I am bold in this fall Superseding my might, my mind …
Wrote a series of (almost) haikus yesterday because it was that kind of day. In my self-important way, I figured I’d share them. You’re welcome. :)~ — Good Morning Open eyes I am brimming A ray of sunshine * Paperwork — Sheaf of words piles high Miles of work, oh my * Body of work …
My mind is all over the place lately (I’m beginning to think black moods are just part of being a writer). The bad thing is my creativity is suffering. So, I guess I’ll take a few days off. Here’s some more poetry. If you want a story, check out the tabs above. Book Reports is …
A few haikus (10-14 syllables) — I question, I’m dependent, And never quite sure * A flash of a breast The glint of metal. Pierced * River running deeper Than men plumb. Undiscovered * I feel motionless. Stuck in neutral Now moving backwards * Dangerous desire! Would you let me Sate my need on you?
April is National Poetry Month. I considered skipping it, but figured I’d sprinkle a little poetry through the blog this month to honor the occasion. — On lips High cheeks A sweet hue New and lush It paints pictures Makes promises Hints at innocence To capture To keep And reinvent With each new touch Petal …
A poem for Easter. Words from The Sunday Whirl. — Life to me Dimly see Lost I be Have been to me Lock, stock Rusty key A pit to stand Drowned I am A rescuing hand! Please An offering man? Lamb, silent lamb And then He And then I am After Him A petal bend …
A little afternoon poetry prompted by the The Sunday Whirl. — As I traverse sunny streets I think of you Your shadow walks beside me, your memory an apparition The march of time gone by echoes like the tap of my high heels on cobblestone The whistle of an arriving train reminds me that things …