Painted by a friend, wonderful job!!!
Saturday, December 30, 2006
one smile from you
and I see possibilities
of a life without a dark haze
can we take a chance?
it could be our last
for sunlight, flowers
gentle rain
a life of hope to exist
Another one I wrote three months ago, how time changes a mind;
I live within myself
a mind a best friend
I watch the world from the outside
some days I long for just a lover
to hold me close and safe
but will anyone speak my name?
I have so many gifts to give
a mind of dreams to share,
I cry out to be heard, but only a echo returns
Am I ever to love again?
For I grow tired of
wait, wait, wait
a clock ticks merrily away
around me its life that continues ,
people pass with talk, laughter and cries
while I remain alone and invisible
and I see possibilities
of a life without a dark haze
can we take a chance?
it could be our last
for sunlight, flowers
gentle rain
a life of hope to exist
Another one I wrote three months ago, how time changes a mind;
I live within myself
a mind a best friend
I watch the world from the outside
some days I long for just a lover
to hold me close and safe
but will anyone speak my name?
I have so many gifts to give
a mind of dreams to share,
I cry out to be heard, but only a echo returns
Am I ever to love again?
For I grow tired of
wait, wait, wait
a clock ticks merrily away
around me its life that continues ,
people pass with talk, laughter and cries
while I remain alone and invisible
A question
What are we doing? she asks with coy.
his breath warm beside her neck.
"just two people who haven't had enough love lately
his answer as his tongue proceeded to move across her chest
smiling it was the answer she wanted
her heart beats faster;
he whispers into her ear as he comes up for air
"maybe we were supposed to meet,
I am just enjoying the beauty which God puts before me
like this black lace bra, hmmm
her body melts beneath his weight
her mind disappears within him
his breath warm beside her neck.
"just two people who haven't had enough love lately
his answer as his tongue proceeded to move across her chest
smiling it was the answer she wanted
her heart beats faster;
he whispers into her ear as he comes up for air
"maybe we were supposed to meet,
I am just enjoying the beauty which God puts before me
like this black lace bra, hmmm
her body melts beneath his weight
her mind disappears within him
A face of sensual, passion
A fascination of ultimate desire for another.
One face upon entry plays within her mind
as a reel of tape of languid motions;
Two faces eclipsed against light of dim.
A gentle touch of a hand near a breast ,
Soft lips against a cheek
Warm breath near the back of a neck
Quieting noises of silence engulf to the
feather puffs of air on wanting lips
A bite to a botton lip and
Eyes shut slowly upon receiving
One face upon entry plays within her mind
as a reel of tape of languid motions;
Two faces eclipsed against light of dim.
A gentle touch of a hand near a breast ,
Soft lips against a cheek
Warm breath near the back of a neck
Quieting noises of silence engulf to the
feather puffs of air on wanting lips
A bite to a botton lip and
Eyes shut slowly upon receiving
Friends
In public they don't speak,
One man, one woman, casual acquaintances
with stolen glances and eyes which pierce a soul.
At night when it is late she may send him an email
If he is up and his kids are in bed he may reply, it might be
days later, but he'll reply.
She sits in front of the mirror applying makeup. Her face an artist's
palette. With each stroke of the brush she dreams about how his touch
would feel to her cheek, her lips, her throat.
A phone call during the day. If he is alone and she is alone, the
conversation carries, if not its limited- short to the point.
An unexpected meeting at the grocery store.
They talk standing a safe distance apart.
Accidental touches on the hand, shoulder, a subtle glance.
Friends they remain -
Safe distances apart.
One man, one woman, casual acquaintances
with stolen glances and eyes which pierce a soul.
At night when it is late she may send him an email
If he is up and his kids are in bed he may reply, it might be
days later, but he'll reply.
She sits in front of the mirror applying makeup. Her face an artist's
palette. With each stroke of the brush she dreams about how his touch
would feel to her cheek, her lips, her throat.
A phone call during the day. If he is alone and she is alone, the
conversation carries, if not its limited- short to the point.
An unexpected meeting at the grocery store.
They talk standing a safe distance apart.
Accidental touches on the hand, shoulder, a subtle glance.
Friends they remain -
Safe distances apart.
Vintage Life
Kate's eyes moved in time with the old black and white cat clock with
the swinging tail and eyes while lying on her bed. She could stay
there in silence the rest of the day.
She rubbed the swelling knot on the side of her skull. After two days, it was better.
The day it was purchased at the open flea market her eyes caught a
glimpse of it on a folding table with salt and pepper shakers and some
old Life magazines surrounding it.
Picking it up she dusted it off and shut her eyes and just hugged it.
For a moment she was back in grandma's kitchen with the smell of
snicker doodles baking in the oven. "Someday you'll meet a fellow and
he will love you a lot if you just know how to cook. Thin women are a
dime a dozen, but you'll keep a man and be happy if you know how to
satisfy his hunger."
Kate reached into her 1950's black cigarette bag and pulled out a $20
and paid the vendor. He spit out a wad of chewing tobacco before
accepting the cash.
Ten minutes and he'd be home. Her skin began to crawl, she felt
flushed. Immediately she got off the bed and straightened up the pink
chenille spread another lucky find from an estate sale of great aunt
Peggy.
A house full of treasured items of the past; the past was easier to deal
with she often thought.
The day they were married it began in vintage. A vintage 1940s pink
dress for her and a vintage 1960s tuxedo from that college store on
Preston road. She loved his Beetles hair and he loved to run his
fingers in her red Hepburn do.
With crème colored skin they packed their back packs with his college
diploma in hand and lived with relatives the first year; traveling
from town to town, working odd jobs. They would make love in
bathroom stalls at football games, picnic tables in the park and in his brother's RV during a Indian art festival.
He didn't drink then, he wasn't mad; there were no demands.
In the bathroom she ran a brush through her black Louise Brooks hair.
It was slowly growing out. It was easier to escape his grasp with a
bob, no excuse for unexpected tangles. She wiped the brown lipstick
off her bruised lips with the back of her hand and she touched the
smudges up with some red. He liked red; he always said brown muted
her personality. He enjoyed red against his skin.
Two plates, fork and knifes were placed perfectly upon the table made
from an old barn door. Hand in hand with grandpa it was the doorway
to adventure as a child.
He always carried his silver bucket full of corn to feed the chickens. If
she was good he would let her pet the old mule's soft nose.
As she set the 1970s wooden salad bowl down near where the handle used
to be she reached out and touched it. She smiled, wanting so to turn
the handle and disapear.
Near the back steps of the house she heard his car jump over the bump
of the driveway and the loud thumping bass from an old song.
She smoothed her hair and dress down and put on the oven mitt and took
out the baked potatoes, panic overtook her body, as her mind escaped
to the barn.
The screen door opened and then she heard his key.
He entered dressed in his navy suit, the smell of smoke clinging to
his clothes. His words slurred "Baby, home. Don't bother, done ate.
Come sit on my lap, satisfy my hunger."
He smacked his fist into the open palm of his hand. The sound made her
jerk as she dropped the hot potatoes into the sink and turned off the
tap. Walking over to him her black dress fell to the floor and she
dropped to her knees.
Grandma's words ringed through her ears as she pet the soft nose of the mule.
the swinging tail and eyes while lying on her bed. She could stay
there in silence the rest of the day.
She rubbed the swelling knot on the side of her skull. After two days, it was better.
The day it was purchased at the open flea market her eyes caught a
glimpse of it on a folding table with salt and pepper shakers and some
old Life magazines surrounding it.
Picking it up she dusted it off and shut her eyes and just hugged it.
For a moment she was back in grandma's kitchen with the smell of
snicker doodles baking in the oven. "Someday you'll meet a fellow and
he will love you a lot if you just know how to cook. Thin women are a
dime a dozen, but you'll keep a man and be happy if you know how to
satisfy his hunger."
Kate reached into her 1950's black cigarette bag and pulled out a $20
and paid the vendor. He spit out a wad of chewing tobacco before
accepting the cash.
Ten minutes and he'd be home. Her skin began to crawl, she felt
flushed. Immediately she got off the bed and straightened up the pink
chenille spread another lucky find from an estate sale of great aunt
Peggy.
A house full of treasured items of the past; the past was easier to deal
with she often thought.
The day they were married it began in vintage. A vintage 1940s pink
dress for her and a vintage 1960s tuxedo from that college store on
Preston road. She loved his Beetles hair and he loved to run his
fingers in her red Hepburn do.
With crème colored skin they packed their back packs with his college
diploma in hand and lived with relatives the first year; traveling
from town to town, working odd jobs. They would make love in
bathroom stalls at football games, picnic tables in the park and in his brother's RV during a Indian art festival.
He didn't drink then, he wasn't mad; there were no demands.
In the bathroom she ran a brush through her black Louise Brooks hair.
It was slowly growing out. It was easier to escape his grasp with a
bob, no excuse for unexpected tangles. She wiped the brown lipstick
off her bruised lips with the back of her hand and she touched the
smudges up with some red. He liked red; he always said brown muted
her personality. He enjoyed red against his skin.
Two plates, fork and knifes were placed perfectly upon the table made
from an old barn door. Hand in hand with grandpa it was the doorway
to adventure as a child.
He always carried his silver bucket full of corn to feed the chickens. If
she was good he would let her pet the old mule's soft nose.
As she set the 1970s wooden salad bowl down near where the handle used
to be she reached out and touched it. She smiled, wanting so to turn
the handle and disapear.
Near the back steps of the house she heard his car jump over the bump
of the driveway and the loud thumping bass from an old song.
She smoothed her hair and dress down and put on the oven mitt and took
out the baked potatoes, panic overtook her body, as her mind escaped
to the barn.
The screen door opened and then she heard his key.
He entered dressed in his navy suit, the smell of smoke clinging to
his clothes. His words slurred "Baby, home. Don't bother, done ate.
Come sit on my lap, satisfy my hunger."
He smacked his fist into the open palm of his hand. The sound made her
jerk as she dropped the hot potatoes into the sink and turned off the
tap. Walking over to him her black dress fell to the floor and she
dropped to her knees.
Grandma's words ringed through her ears as she pet the soft nose of the mule.
Goodbye to a friend
We all need friends
to help us along
the rocky paths of life
my friend had seen me through the worst
I have cried, screamed and laughed with him
he expressed his opinions
as did I
with his healing words of wisdom;
he changed my life -pointed me toward
one of hope and joy
I told him goodbye today
with tears within my eyes
I now take a new journey
and it's time to stand on my own
for my dependence on him had grown;
Him -I will always be thankful
and his words
"Did I tell you to be careful"
will always resonate within my mind.
to help us along
the rocky paths of life
my friend had seen me through the worst
I have cried, screamed and laughed with him
he expressed his opinions
as did I
with his healing words of wisdom;
he changed my life -pointed me toward
one of hope and joy
I told him goodbye today
with tears within my eyes
I now take a new journey
and it's time to stand on my own
for my dependence on him had grown;
Him -I will always be thankful
and his words
"Did I tell you to be careful"
will always resonate within my mind.
Friday, December 29, 2006
paper dolls
She sits and cuts paper dolls
not the store bought kind
but rather stick figures in white
sometimes five are strung together
but she prefers eight
holding the string above her head
she calls out to them by name
susie, betty, ash, michelle
friends of past, perhaps future
she's thirty now
and sits cross legged on a white tiled floor
they have taken her sissors away
leaving only flat white paper without lines
a tear rolls down her cheek
landing on one piece
a finger's gentle touch
smile, laugh, hurt
why so much white?
friends
where have they gone?
not the store bought kind
but rather stick figures in white
sometimes five are strung together
but she prefers eight
holding the string above her head
she calls out to them by name
susie, betty, ash, michelle
friends of past, perhaps future
she's thirty now
and sits cross legged on a white tiled floor
they have taken her sissors away
leaving only flat white paper without lines
a tear rolls down her cheek
landing on one piece
a finger's gentle touch
smile, laugh, hurt
why so much white?
friends
where have they gone?
Thoughts
It lingers against my skin, his scent
his aroma suspends a memory in time
of strong hands to couple a soul;
warm breath, tender lips against a stomach;
the building beats of two hearts,
sweat upon brows,
one velvet tongue;
one stolen bite;
fingers tangled amidst curls of hair,
hips thrust together as one;
wet moist warm skin;
magic within his spine
slowly comes to a rest;
now a memory
in time to return?
should I bathe?
or will the moment disappear of
two lovers entwined
two artist's souls
unlikely paired or possibly not?
want, need, lust and circumstance
could love bloom or more hurt?
I stay in bed, my senses aroused,
the weight of tired eyes collapse
with last thoughts of
piercing eyes and a face full of passion
his aroma suspends a memory in time
of strong hands to couple a soul;
warm breath, tender lips against a stomach;
the building beats of two hearts,
sweat upon brows,
one velvet tongue;
one stolen bite;
fingers tangled amidst curls of hair,
hips thrust together as one;
wet moist warm skin;
magic within his spine
slowly comes to a rest;
now a memory
in time to return?
should I bathe?
or will the moment disappear of
two lovers entwined
two artist's souls
unlikely paired or possibly not?
want, need, lust and circumstance
could love bloom or more hurt?
I stay in bed, my senses aroused,
the weight of tired eyes collapse
with last thoughts of
piercing eyes and a face full of passion
new life, new blog
Since I have a totally new life now, private personal thoughts will remain on the old blog with a password only to view.
This blog will remain as my writing blog as it was intended to be three years ago.
Only to be used as prompts, thoughts, stories and some bad poetry.
This blog will remain as my writing blog as it was intended to be three years ago.
Only to be used as prompts, thoughts, stories and some bad poetry.
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