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Lost Meditations

Lost Meditations

lost meditations resurface
in these november years

reflections of mysteries once pondered
beauty beheld
of veiled truth pursued

in quiet depth
disturbed only by faint breath
beckoning me inward
to the bright center of joy

where a flutter of understanding
in a snap-flash of oneness
shudders me conscious
in shivering anticipation
of that which is not known

that which cannot be named
in the twilight of this finite
as threads of evermore
bind fast my dreams
to carry them onward
effortlessly

I gently surrender
as lost meditations resurface
in my november years

~ ~ ~

__________________

Click here to read more poetry at dVerse

Bohemian Tie-Dye

This poem was inspired by a suggestion from Andy Sewina, aka SweetTalking Guy. This is a very brief flash fiction written in three American Sentences, a poetic form conceived by Allen Ginsberg.

Bohemian Tie-Dye

jack and Neal on the road
were rape’n their angst
in carnal combustion

allen was howl’n
pal’n with corso
but still white-hot for peter

hunter was fearful
loathing it all
as bohemia went tie-dye

~ ~ ~

Touch of Love

Touch of Love

a quarter century ago
in the shadow of the tall ships
nestled inter-coastal
on the outer banks of Beaufort
our passion burst to flame

we bound that flashpoint moment
in a promise of forever
and a band of abalone
I found there in that sunset
on the Carolina sands

as ever-precious
as the diamond ring
that now encircles in its stead
that pearled bit of shell
immortalized our pledge

even to this day
it rests next to your heart
where it falls true and warm
on links of purest gold
my constant touch of love

~ ~ ~

Click below to read more poetry at dVerse:

Open Link Night #233

Dawn Breaks

Dawn Breaks

when the fire of love
flickers dims and dies
and a shadow falls
deep in darkened eyes
hollow words of love
become but empty lies

that open door
of a tender heart
has swung quietly closed
round the fragile part

what once so sweet and effortless
can never again feel right
and the fall begins so near unseen
as though but the passing of night

until one morning no dawn breaks
no tenderness nor warmth awakes
and a loneliness encircles slow
you seek the one that you’ve loved so

she’s here arms reach
she shares your bed
you roll and turn
then lift your head
you search her face
in the predawn glow
whose eyes these are
you no longer know

you feel no tears
you feel no fight
a knowing rises from this night
sadly it will never again be right

it’s in this painful clarity
you realize
you know
that though you stayed quite sound asleep
you heart left long ago

~ ~ ~

Sanctuary

“Under Windsor Bridge” by Adolphe Valette, 1912

Sanctuary

dead calm envelops me

moist morning fog
adrift on the water
wraps ’round me
like a cool blanket

it muffles the sounds
of daybreak’s industry

alone with my thoughts
in peaceful privacy
safe anonymity

the regrets of last night
dim and fade

this brief sanctuary
a soothing balm
so welcome
at the start of this heavy day

~ ~ ~

This piece deals with the strange duality we all carry with us through life, the unique contradiction between the person we think we are, and the ‘many’ other persons others perceive us to be from their experience of us, as filtered through their differing individual perceptions. Fair or not, convenient or not, we are ‘judged’. Our lives are impacted to one degree or another, every day by how we measure up to each of these interpretations of the “I” we are thought to be. This includes the “I” we perceive ourselves to be. Which one is real, is valid, or is any one of them truly definitive? The phrase “I am” presents a fascinating philosophical quandary.

image by René Magritte

Cloistered

when another
tells you of yourself
you’re shown the dance they see
your outward choreography

but you hear not of the music
that rings true in your mind
that leads and drives the steps
to this inward dance they’re blind

you are shown the reflection
not the light that shines inside
that illuminates your soul
to guide your steps and stride

are we the I that we know
the self that we so treasure
or are we in fact the other
the one the others measure

for if the valid I
be the one that is most known
then we are in fact that I
the one to ourselves not shown

for surely when compared
the majority story shared
is of the outward other
the one seen by another

and so we live our life
cloistered in this other
and live this life alone
even when by many known
for the I that’s outward shown
is the I that’s not our own

~ ~ ~

Morphling

image by Francesca Woodman

Morphling

I will not be confined
always in motion
eternal ebb and flow
perpetual like the seas

my spirit an eternal liquid
in everlasting flux
expands unrestrained
seeking freedom

I will not be defined
my nature is fluid
my essence is turbulent
deep but ever changing

my heart in constant surge
challenges boundary
seeking balance that is mine
to change at will

reach not for me
I will not be held
do not name me
I will not be yours

~ ~ ~

Perception’s Window

artwork by Jack Vettriano

Perception’s Window

we are infinite beings
awaking slowly
from some infinite place

our coming to be
unknown to us as any mystery
our essence an enigma

learned in stories
in waiting relationships
gradually we open to our identity

awareness dawns
like the rising of a newborn sun
breaking on our window of perception

we feel its warmth
and flow effortlessly into timelessness
as though immortal

we see not over the horizon
for we see no horizon
but limitless eternity

we comprehend no end
immersed only in the now
given of our origin

it is therein exists the miracle of life
we are infinite beings in this moment
dreaming to sustain the moment

~ ~ ~

The Startled Man

this “she” was birthed
in his fractured dreams
helpless as a forest fawn
frail as a snowflake
falling on a May predawn

a captive
to his fearful heart
caught in his twisted fantasy
conjured by his crippled soul
his power is his fallacy

he needs her weak
for at his core
he’s filled with sour doubt
knows his time of tyranny
is quickly running out

threatened
he seeks to dominate
silences her rising voice
to keep her mute and under thumb
tries to deny her right of choice

with strengthened will
she finds her voice
speaks direct to what she sees
startled by her forthright way
he wants her back upon her knees

once a hollow woman-husk
with sorrow dark as growing dusk
whose spirit withered
in the dimming light
as nightmares swelled
night after night
whose tears once seared the barren land

now rebukes
his fisted hand
and walks away
from the startled man

~ ~ ~

Yet

inspired by the first day I met my wife in 1987…

Yet

had she not appeared in that clearing
so lost

had she not crossed my threshold
on that september day

had not her voice
drifted like silk on a summer breeze
to wrap sheer and sweet
around my heart

had not I been drawn
like a bloom to the morning sun

had not I been captivated
as a hummingbird
by a drop of nectar
crystal on a velvet petal

had not my love come down
soft as a rolling mountain meadow

had not this dream been born

had not my life begun again

~ ~ ~

Arrested

Arrested

she’s left only her jacket on
unbuttoned
blousing open

the gold of her badge
glints fetchingly
in the glow of candlelight

her breasts
partially veiled
soft in the amber wash
gently rise and fall
with her heavy breath

helplessly
my eyes glide her length
fondled warmly
by the lush half-light
folding upon her
from the single flame

they pause
entranced by the velvet flower
sensuously shadowed
in the satin cleft
where supple limb
meets supple limb

intoxicated by this vision
I can only stare
and melt

utterly arrested

~ ~ ~

________________________

The “X” rated 2018 version

-=> RAW ADULT CONTENT <=-

ABD318EC-3EEA-4D4A-9667-B71AC2A5DD98

Arrested
~
unbuckling her regulation holster
she lays it neatly
on the sest of her cycle

she removes the rest of her wespons
and places them on the ground

she is now unarmed
but she is still packin’

unzipping
she lets her regulation uniform trousers
slide in a nylon rustle
down her thigh high lace tops
to fall
gathered at her sculpted ankles

leaving her regulation leather heels on
she steps over her slacks
abandoned at her feet

she walks toward me slowly
hips pivoting left then right
taut thighs mesh silken

swish swish swish

placing one foot
in front of the other
striding with authority
heels sounding

click click click

she approaches
backlit by the red and blue pulses
of the BMW’s frenzied lightbar

she stops
straddling over me
as I am handcuffed
sitting on the highway
leaning agaist the door
of my Audi R8
popping and snapping
as the 610 hp’s cool

she unbottons her regulation jacket
and drops it at my side
she’s left only her regulation shirt on
as she unbuttons
it blouses open

her body badge is revealed
the gold glints fetchingly
as it dangles
on a thick leather cord
from around her smooth firm neck
resting nestled
in the perfect cleavage
of her pert young
braless breasts

these are tits
perfect tits
right out of a teen’s temptation
aglow in amber warning lights

her nipples
proudly erect
partially veiled
soft in the amber wash
gently rise and fall
with her heavy breathing

leaning over
fixing me with her fiery eyes
she speaks
“you were driving recklessly – sir”
then rips away her black string thong

helplessly
looking up
my eyes glide slowly
lustfully down her length
fondled warmly
by the flashing golden-orange
folding and refolding
upon her luscious flesh

they pause in gentle decent
entranced by the velvet mons
shorn smooth and oiled
sensuously shadowed
in the satin cleft
where supple limb
meets supple limb

intoxicated by this vision
I can only stare
swelling rigid with excitement
and swoon
breathless

utterly arrested
eager for interrogation

~ ~ ~

Drowning

on the boulevard
outside
last night’s rain
puddles
midst the chaos of metro-clutter
as if abandoned
by the waters of earth

it shoulders its way
through the culverts
in search of mother sea

this day begins golden and crisp
bird songs echo empty sunrise streets

lovers and their beloved
sit by morning windows
with tea
and curiosity

they talk

in these moments
their souls spill
one into the other
entranced

somewhere
tender lips
are sculpting sweet words

but here in this quiet
I drown in your eyes
fallen into azure pools

~ ~ ~

Click for bonus pleasure…

These People

These People

these people

that begrudge me my juicy burgers
or my rare filet mignon

that look down their nose
at my slathered baby backs

or sneer with disdain
as I tear into a buttery veal chop

these people

their cutting condemnation
because I’m devouring
a cut of impeccably seasoned loin
like it’s some violation of nature

think about it

if this were’t the natural way
there wouldn’t be A1 sauce

and you’re going to tell me
Mr. Weber had zucchini on his mind
when he created the kettle grill

listen

if the 4-legged critters
had the gumption to organize
and effectively resist
their inevitable transformation
into steaks and chops

or even act mildly indignant
regarding their situation

I might think differently

but they simply
go with the flow

quite content
to fatten up
on the free grub

and loll about all day
in the free accommodations

and as I savor
their perfectly turned succulence
I’m damned grateful for their indifference

these people

let them eat soup

warhol-at-the-grocery-store

~ ~ ~

Incidentally, my lovely wife is a vegetarian, and loves soup…

Morning’s Pardon

Morning brings we fallen mortals forgiveness and hope…

Morning’s Pardon

fallen into night’s embrace
held down by dark shadows
I writhe in the arms of nightmare

would that I could rise
into the light of dawn’s nod
but I’m flesh, weak, consumed by flesh

purity laid raw entangled in my sin
skin to skin with my obsession
restrained to roil in my transgression

but soon the light of morne
will fold itself upon me pardoned
oh pray I not be too far drawn asunder

~ ~ ~

RÄgarÄjaâ€™s Daughter

â€¢

radiant vision silken skinned
translucent alabaster blaze
torrid as a teenâ€™s temptation
leaned low here before me yearning

on plush cloud so sensuous
sweet comely goddess forward bent
graceful face aglow with craving
you conjure ardor’s obsession

aâ€™bloom in beckoned fiery swoon
forearms rest on pillow soft
thoughts aflame in primal need
lips burning smile a fetched seduction

RÄgarÄjaâ€™s daughter lush with Spring
smoldering in golden light
that folds upon you satin supple
to bathe in warmth your arched desire

divinely-pleasing luscious morsel
served up by a masterâ€™s hand
passion bound to tantalize
to hypnotize my hungry eyes

lost in carnal fantasy
fired by this goddess buff
arises now my animal
in a beastly urgent lust

to wrap â€˜round
this maiden magic
flesh to flesh
to full consume
to thrust
and thrust
my randy lust
â€™til passionâ€™s seed
has turned to dust
and wanton
carnal flames
are snuffed

Springâ€™s sweet madness
at last
enough

â€¢ â€¢ â€¢

â€¢ linked at Magpie Tales

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