Poetrypage

The Gift of Her

The soul spreads surface film; an essence of lust.
The often thought favor is lost.
When I feel the heart seeking, and failing, it sends my mind reeling.
What do I do if the chance is just this; luck of the draw and lottery claim?

Where do I go for the solace I seek? Where can I find the promise of trust?
Wonderful, giddy response to this a plaintive cry tossed, is
Found in her eyes. Oh wonderment,drawing me from my dealing
With deep intense begging and yearning.....for my being.

Now work with the rush--quickly; don't measure or judge.
The gift, too unlikely for questions or posturing
Should only be touched by a caress, a kiss of light lips.
Make this the moment for freedom from seeing.

The extent of her ecstasy is the ascent
Of my pleasure in her pleasure for this, the dream is the same.

Home

.......As heavy laden air exudes the promise of a snow
I contemplate the mastery of nature's features low,
Upon the ground about; as wildlife forage and fray,
As if they know the end to be a brand new winter's day.

The misty muffled sounds of morn
Are kept at bay, yet so forlorn
When understood by any who'd hear
A necessity to draw warmth near.

Lay stores in, make larders full,
The haste begins in this short lull,
For those who listen know this, certain
Winter's 'bout to draw her curtain.

A restful time is gained by all
Who planned ahead; made use of Fall.
They sleep in peaceful quietude
The respite hard earned interlude.

Beneath soft matting snuggled in
As snowfall surely must begin
And pile upon the ground above
Becoming a blanket; season's bequeath.

First Snow's Fall

Love, that oddly timed gift;
It grabs me by the groin in grievous passion.
"What, now? Again? No time!" I say;
As I present my feeble resistance
To my life's true gain-
A meeting in mind's eye between two kindred wishes.

The motive lies in a mystery.
For such a play of hearts and souls with no recourse
But to concede, brings to mind our destiny.
It poses as a goal most gloriously desired,
And yet my option's cast and I'm left to argue naught
But to hope for pain less piercing or inspired.

My heart is weak from past assaults
And suffers so in reflection,
That once the surety of the sweet promise fades
I wonder how it can happen
That I survive, to yet again long for the pleasure
Such irresistable beauty in courier guise provides.

For that is her, a messenger,
To my body's need and greed;
Desire for more and a repeat
Of that which it lacks and alone cannot foresee;
What wondrous overwhelming fate
Gets cast between the 'you and me'.

Another Fate

Spring's Kiss

Spring has a kiss for me.
It comes as a warm wind flowing across the hills of new grass.
It travels far, just as season's journey into new must do.
The moist touch reminds me of how a lover's kiss feels .
As a light brush of lips tender and sweet upon my face.
This wind carries hints of things to come,
A birth of friendship that has yet to soar,
The burst of spirit and life that blends
In a never ceasing cycle of that which was before.

Spring has a surprise for me
In revealing that all the passion I thought spent,
Was only laid still through Winter's restful lull
And waiting like the seeds in soil lie dormant,
To spring forth and grow, swelling in the
Rush to reach the light of day
Proclaiming itself to be a perfect pairing
Between myself and that which is to be.