I Can Still Make Mature Women Blush

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I can still make mature women blush
Knowing the proper placement of words
Using my tongue to enunciate firmly
The rhythm of recitement, she slowly purred

The fertile experience of rapturous joy
Pause a moment, so she won’t catch her death
Letting her pulse settle to reasonable levels
Returning to the living, joy in each & every breath

The bold blonde with big, bouncy curls
Much-maligned missionary souls
Falling in love was always my fatal flaw
Especially once I’ve relinquished control

Surrounding Myself With Ancient Friends

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Surrounding myself with ancient friends
Wisdom & experiences laid upon my shelf
Bare for all to quietly consume
Providing a chance for a better version of self

Absorbing past lives without pause
Silhouettes of women from long ago
Angst from existential rights in time
Visions of dreams I wish to forgo

These books are mere placeholders
For the contents of my heart upon hardwood
Gentle reminders of our former intellect
& the hope we might return to being good

Taking A Moment To Pause

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Taking a moment to pause
Allowing all the colors & sounds
To penetrate my senses
I’m going to miss being around


Soon to return to the sea
Riding waves with crushing might
Darkness closing in on me
Holding fast to escape the night

 

 

*not really going back to sea. just remembering the feeling of writing this before the holidays a few years ago

The Poetess Vixen

The poetess vixen
Trying to seduce my intellect
Whispering those sweet thoughts
Paused by my pen; time to reflect

But I’m not one to cave to pressure
Her pretty eyes leading me to temptation
I can appreciate & smile back
Without any need for erotic retaliation

Seeking Out Freedoms

Seeking out the freedoms

But where is the wisdom our follies have made

Washed away with the retreating tides

Now we bask out in the cover of foliage’s shade

I’m sure nature leads us to the answer

The tempted isolation of introverts

The paused legacy of our discontent

Posterity gently tugging at her miniskirt

Tilted scales of Justice – with her hem unraveling

The overture that rises where prudence fails

Our overwrought, sparse conjecture

& leaves us at the darker side of the fairytale

Picking Up My Girl Along The Way

Picking up my girl along the way
A short enough skirt that’ll surely tease
Soft tones upon the extinguished day
Wine & song that I might forever please

Snapping fingers & popping buttons
Ample latitude that I might play her fool
Admittedly; for her touch I’m a glutton
My own words reveal me to still be uncool

My ravishing mettle giving her just cause
Subtly picking up her heels and hemline
This rakish spirit providing her pause
Exposing joy & unadulterated sunshine

The Wind Howling At Midnight

 

The wind howling at midnight
Broken windows – open to the outside air
Exposed to the communal by-passer
Her soul had fallen into disrepair
Fatigue & listless emotions manifesting
Immune to careless compliments
Time to pause & regroup her focus
Happiness born from common sense