Tuesday, December 24, 2013

She Who Makes Me

she makes me feel like a newborn

come to be on this very day

opening eyes that have never seen

this life laid open at my feet

she has taken me to task

with intricate and precise plans

sending me on scavenger hunts

my list of treasures in hand

she carves out time and makes it stop

while she paints the walls of my room

covering them with beautiful imagery

that she wants only me to see

she is selfless I have said this before

but day after day she proves

that by never saying the words

she has shown me what she feels

she plays the role of teacher

with the patience of a saint

sometimes rote repetition

is the only way I can learn

I fight her at times, just like a child

kicking and stomping my feet

when I don’t get what I want

I have tried to run away

she leaves me to my pouting

but only long enough…

then like a wind coming through the trees

she announces her presence again

again with patience, and care

yet never doubt the strength

she has shown me that she will not give in

that I cannot push her away

she makes me want to be present

to be solidly, soberly aware

open to feeling pleasure

even when it comes with pain

she shows me the power of both

and how one compliments the next

she has taught me not to fight the pain

in surrender it slips away

she has taken me to another door

opened something deeper still

I have just awoken this morning

and the world looks different today

something in the silence is sweeter

the color of morning takes me in

for one who has always lived in the dark

this is more than simple change

she makes me feel like a woman

in ways that I never have

in physical form, my body

learning to feel alive

she tends to every part of me

places once left for dead

ignored and neglected

she revels in the wealth of their worth

I feel like a treasure in her eyes

I move toward the touch of her hand

overwhelmed in the most wondrous of ways

asked and allowed, to feel~
~for my muse~


Saturday, December 21, 2013

Deal Me In~

at 3 am, I heard your knock on my door

dazed and blurry eyed I turned the latch

it seems you must have misplaced your key

you know you don’t have to knock here to come in

I saw in your hands a deck of playing cards

nonchalantly hanging at your side

the time of your arrival should have told me

but having just awoken I did not see

you laid the deck of cards down on the table

face down as you read the feel of the room

the dealer’s sleeves and shaded cap covering your eyes

protecting you from making a wrong move

you slowly turned the first card and set it down

face value opening the bets

waiting for the ante where I faltered

too slow before I wagered all I had

sitting across from you I asked for another card

I didn’t have the strength of a full hand

but slowly I watched you fold and collect the cards

placing the stack back on the table face down

you rose and moved through the door without pause

no goodbye, no good night, no adieu

just sleep well and silence

as the door clicked loudly in the latch

I reached for the card on the top of the deck

I held the queen of hearts in my hand

the second card the jester, silly fool

followed by the king

with the stone set jaw

I’m still sitting here with a stack of coins

this time prepared to play another hand

studying the cards to count their value

waiting for you to return to the table and deal

~for my muse~


Wednesday, December 18, 2013


a list of directions

intricate, almost painstaking

steps to take

cautions to be wary of

something akin

to a road map

attention to all detail

before the adventure began

this was to be

an escapade into pleasure

into loss of inhibition

into letting go

but deeper it went

digging into cores

intensity felt

beyond all scope of thought

it began slowly

with a battle

a challenge of will

fighting inner beasts

words spoken steady

in solid unbroken lines

lining the sides of the path

leading the way

pushing against anger

against pressure against fear

against the feeling

that giving in is taking away

the unwavering voice

continues its ministrations

and illumination breaks

and causes a shift

softening to your words

the sound of you

actions begin to mimic

what is said

taken slowly in to your rhythm

lost in the drifting wave

caught by the heat

that has found the center of me

floating as if safely tethered

no fear of falling away

an act of letting go

just became real

pure unblemished submission

surrendered unto you

rewarded with something

altogether unknown

a state of euphoria

never before experienced

body and soul taken

far beyond limit’s restraint

lost in pleasure’s playground

safe beneath your hand

all hesitation forever

left behind
~for my muse~
thank you for the title...



Friday, December 13, 2013

Wanted ~ to be

the first time to feel something such as this

this urgency and the heat of you wanting me

last night was different, something shifted

the energy exchange driven by your need

you came to me out of nowhere

out of smoke and ether’s mist

like a mystery

like a storybook fabled tale

you turned the pages slowly

you read them to me out loud

and within them showed me

someone very real

you’ve pampered me, you’ve taken me

to the edges of myself

you’ve been patient and let me

struggle with my words

you’ve promised me nothing

except every night

and every night you come to me

without fail

you never bring anything but yourself

making me the sole intention you are here

‘about me’, ‘with me’ and ‘for me’

resolving it all in ‘to me’ before you go

there is something indescribable in feeling wanted

and last night the waves of that want rushed over me

the urgency of your need counting down

to explosions erupting forcefully within

taken again and again with delicious fervor

‘time to go…’ ‘no, come here one more time’

the force, the heat, the magic of this connection

the inexplicable pleasure of desire

with a kiss you sent me to sleep

and to move through another day

with the hint of what will come

with the clock’s ticking hands

so today I pass time

with the memory of you on my skin

and the feeling that lingers

in every step I take

tonight you will come

as every night you do

your want for me

all that I can feel
~for my muse~

Thursday, December 12, 2013

Of Pleasure

there may not truly be words to convey

sensations such as this

it may come down to sounds

to movements made

it may simply be a torso

writhing like a snake

fluid motion

reminiscent of a wave

it may be a pulsing vein

swollen and hidden deep

in the nether realm

where eyes seldom see

it may be muscles flexing

convulsing and tearing loose

all semblance of composure

the body losing control

it may be guttural throaty sounds

culled from deep within

and uttered forth

in breathy gasping bursts

it may be fingers interlaced

the feel of skin on skin

lips and teeth

and fingernails digging in

it may be eyes connecting

and holding each other’s gaze

off the eyelid

the escape of a single tear

it may be explosions visible

or the ones that go unseen

the evidence of both

flowing uncontained

it may be soft and tender

may be savage and raw

the scent of lust

enveloping the room

there may not be words

or poetry enough to convey

but you will know

the depth of what I feel~
~for my muse~


Sunday, December 8, 2013

Violate ~ sanctifying faith

 Warning ~ "love and emotion come in all flavors, this ain't exactly "Vanilla"

to violate~

by definition an unsavory act

to treat something sacred

with irreverence, disrespect

to come into, to overtake

by the strength of a solid hand

against one’s will, against one’s choice

not to be deterred


but by candlelight in this darkened room

there is another side to see

where surrender and submission

invite you into me

still bound by your hand and bent to your will

I am at your command

but released at a simple word

like picking an apple from a tree

slow and measured the waves begin

rocking back and forth

mesmerizing, hypnotizing

lost in the motion’s force

listening to words of direction

navigating this course

following them to the letter

knowing the end result

the pace quickens to fevered pitch

words not for polite company

reaching deep, to the center

the connection of all things

pushed by the words, pulled by restraints

filled completely whole

almost beyond the point of breathing

ecstatic, overwhelmed

tears streaming, body writhing

explosions come in waves

over and over convulse and contract

the flood simply overtakes

the touch of a cheek, the graze of lips

smiles and words of praise

bound again in comfort’s grip

and tenderly laid to rest


this violation as so defined

this desecration so named

is actually an act of consecration

sanctifying faith
~for my muse~


Monday, December 2, 2013

Paper Airplanes of Onionskin

her eyes take in the pages

of the volume in her hand

written in blood on onionskin

life made real on a page

she studies the intricate lines

the ink infused in the thread

then holds it up to the light

to gauge the permanence of the stain

with its cockle finish and texture

the words could be easily erased

but with the volume tight in her grasp

there is no way for this to take place

she crafts these ledgers herself

knife wielded by a deftly skilled hand

peels away the layers

laying out sheets of the cepa skin

she binds them tightly with silken cord

a place for the story to be told

then wraps it in thick strong leather

to protect it from the cold

she keep the pages viable

from becoming cracked and worn

in slightly humid temperature

 always safe and warm

she works diligently at her craft

in the late hours by candlelight

music floating through the room

to keep the distractions at bay

the stories keep her rapt

each page revealing the next

her task to create another page

as each previous one is read

in her workshop with tool lined walls

she takes great pride in her skill

at being the force, the impetus

that demands these pages be filled

at times the reading gets tangled

the words on the page begin to blur

the scrawl becomes a scribble

and the meaning can be quite unclear

this is when she tears the page

from the stricture of the book

and folds it with care and caution

with the same skilled, artisans hand

then she launches it gently

into the air and it sails the room

 she sits back watches with pride

as her paper airplane flies


~for my muse~