Kat

Who would not want you?

Pout all you want
But know this...

They need to have you
Taste you
Sublimate you

To have and to hold
For only but a moment
Is the cresendo of their

DESIRE

Why, you may ask?
Because it is their will
And your offering

Submiss Ann

Iridescence
A poem for and about ann.

 

her eyes

Are iridescent portals

to her soul

They flash and smile
Belying passion and interest
Found through living

Truly living
Taking hold
Learning
Experiencing
Being

she loves life
her love is infectious
drawing you in
Making you a believer

More...

I want more...

she gives
no reservations
unguarded
open
genuine
complete

she smiles at you
You smile back

Hoping she feels
and
knows

It is given
in appreciation
and wonder

her eyes brighten!
Something new to try!
Something new to learn!
Someone new to know

she loves her life
And she let me be part of it

Ann it was your birthday a week or so ago. Thanks for the memories!

Robert Burns

Wilt thou be my Dearie?
When Sorrow wring thy gentle heart,
O wilt thou let me cheer thee!
By the treasure of my soul,
That's the love I bear thee:
I swear and vow that only thou
Shall ever be my Dearie!
Only thou, I swear and vow,
Shall ever be my Dearie!

Lassie, say thou lo'es me;
Or, if thou wilt na be my ain,
O say na thou'lt refuse me!
If it winna, canna be,
Thou for thine may choose me,
Let me, lassie, quickly die,
Still trusting that thou lo'es me!
Lassie, let me quickly die,
Still trusting that thou lo'es me! 

My Imperfection

My Imperfection

It reaches out and hurts the one I love
and in its place
Deep darkness and shame
beyond remorse and emptiness

A jewel bright and irridescent
Uncut, rought, wild
Fashioned, shaped refined
Until it value is is beyond any tribute to Troy

I thought she was that jewel

But it was I
her words and deeds reflected back on me
Tenfold. Shaped Me. A coupling

It is crack'd now
My heart
Bleakness knows no bounds
Inside a flaw so rampant

That brought forth
actions of deep regret
A word of remorse and shame
A hope

And the reflection trebles
As she replies with
Dignity
Grace
Compassion
FORGIVENESS

Oh, deep heart blackens and goes cold
For the flaw in me does not reflect
What is pure in her

Irony strikes as what she gained
from My imperfection
Strikes hard
And sure

I will miss you
My imperfection stays
her reflection transfixed
In my mind
--

Ginny

Ginny

To give my feelings for you
Words
Words like Passion, Trust, Love
Truly does my feelings injustice


The words have not been discovered


And never will be


A voyage of discovery
Two entities,
Two pasts,
Two presents,
Two futures


Like Magellan or Curie
The unknown
Fear and Joy of Discovery
Stronger for the passage of experiences
Saddened by loss or the chance of loss


A point of definition
Yet to be uncovered

Where will this lead
How will it end
Will it end
Will this be worth it?


Shielding the light from sight
Is there that much difference
I don't want to hurt you
I love you


Doing what is necessary
My life with or without
Shadows of deeper emotions
Creeping towards me
Ill defined


Must I wait
Will I wait


One path trodden upon by many
Another
With few deep tangible footprints


Which one will I take?

I found this poem a day ago while getting my house ready to sell. Going through my rather cluttered office I have several file boxes with some old (read grade school) school assignments and other mementos from the pasts. I happened on this poem for Ginny.

She was a lover of mine some time ago and was 13 years my senior. Our romance was short lived but deeply passionate. We spent a lot of time together over 2 years. Boating, skiing, sailing, day tripping, antiquing, socializing, loving and living. I was in love with her but she she was not with me. I never declared my love for her - the only time in my life I was in love with someone and did not declare it.

This was the one unspoken word between us. I felt though we never talked about it that I was a type of therapy for her. I was that man that validated her emotions, sexuality, and femininity after a bad relationship she had before we got together. I was attentive, gallant, romantic, interested and aroused by her. I was consistent in my passion for her. Not just her body but her soul and she needed that.

What she did not need was me permanently.

She only spoke of it once. The last night we spent together. It was the only time we slept together but apart. She said the words just as I was drifting off, "You're going to want children someday, Eric." She was 41 and did not want children. I was 28 and had not thought about it. In our context I knew that children would never be but at my age the possibility of anything was the only thing in my mind. When I turned 41 I thought about her words and I understood.

I have children now. Ginny was right. Not completely right. I would have forsaken children for her. Funny to love someone so much and be willing to give up something as sacred as children but never say "I love you."

I wrote this poem shortly after we separated and never did give it to her. But I kept the poem in my files for 17 years. I cannot remember the last time I looked at it and read it though I know I have acknowledged the existence of the poem in my mind I have not read it until tonight as I was transcribing it for this entry. What a strange feeling.

In many ways it was a relationship of convenience and though she kept me emotionally far enough away not to allow me the obligation of telling her I loved her while at the same time never declaring that to me either, I think we both knew this in our sub-conscious.

I hold my memory of her dear to me and the one picture of us together I will keep forever.

What We Trade

It was funny

Hearing from you

That fateful day for many

A year before we stood

Where so many were to perish

And you call me

In tears

Because we were there

It could have been us

One year later on

Stunned was I

Wishing that your conviction for my safety

Was consistent

Not lost, ravaged, rip'd

Battered, bleeding

Apparently gone

Until the Towers fell

This poem is about a phone call I got from my former wife during September 11, 2001 at approixmately 10:00 AM. A year before on September 13, 2000 she and I were on top of one of the Towers at approximately 10:00 and had arrived one hour previous to that time to get tickets to go up the one of the Towers.

In addition I was scheduled to go to a finance course in New York City which spanned the day of the attacks and conceivably could have been at the restaurant at the Top of the World for breakfast on September 11, 2001.

She knew I could have been in NYC that week. I had canceled that course to take a similar course in Las Vegas one month hence.

There was something touching in her calling me. The cell phone lines were jammed where I lived in Canada. The Internet was down and yet she took time from her day to call me over a land-line and wonder if I was OK and to recognize that fate could have dealt us a blow if the attack occurred one year earlier.

But what was strange about it and other worldly about her call is she never in the 3 years prior to our split up in December 2001 told me she loved me. No once.

Andrea Grant

Introducing Andrea Grant: Model, Poet, Artist, Photographer, Publisher, Blogger, Canadian.

Demarcation

de⋅mar⋅ca⋅tion

Pronunciation [dee-mahr-key-shuhn] –noun
1. the determining and marking off of the boundaries of something.
2. separation by distinct boundaries: line of demarcation.

Barriers
That prevent real

Love, ecstasy, commitment, release
And freedom

From solid imaginings
To trivial realities
Conspire to failure
All that we yearn for

Not enough plutonium
In this world to

Smash, rend, sunder
Them between us

They pass
Mistly momentarily
Between us
Never for ever

We lock
In a lover's madness
Momentarily
To come back again

Even when you are
Not gone

I Am Not Beautiful

"I am not beautiful,"

she said to me.

"You are beautiful to me,"

I said, noting the sadness in her eyes.

"But my tits sag. My ass is getting too big,"

she countered.

"Yes your tits do sag,"

I said softly.

"Your honesty HURTS me,"

she spit.

"But you are beautiful to me. What about that honesty,"

I wondered out loud.

"Yeah right,"

she offered.

"Come here,"

I offered.

She lay against the other side of the bed

A continent between us.

"Then I am coming there,"

softly I said.

Pulling her to me

Collapsing the continent between us.

"You are beautiful to me,"

I offered again softly.

"I know. When you say it I believe it. When I think it I do not,"

she disclosed.

"Look into my eyes, my love,"

I asked.

"I can almost believe it too,"

she offered.

"Take that as truth and let me love you,"

I whispered.

"Oh yes..."

Spent

Worked all week

Wrote you every day

Vital information

Who

What

Where

When

And how!

Bags packed

Nervous in the service

Waiting for time

To.........................Pass!

Van drive

Sodom Road

Almost there

Check in

Proprietor

Wondering

"Do you have business down here?"

2nd time this month

Smile

Lie

"I have business here."

Who

You!

What

We wrote about

Where

Room 201

When

In 2 hours.

I am always early

Bottle water

Slaking only one thurst

Headlights now

Here now

Beside you now

Before you even

Get out

Cup you and kiss you

Door closes

Grip

Grasp

Hug

Remove

Meander in your scent

Time is bent

Oh God, how I am spent

Vexatious Void

Love so strong

Even blinded
I feel you looking at me

Slash sight
Tear touch
Hijack hearing
Smash smell
Terrorize taste

I can still
Feel you looking at me

Take all my senses
Away
Obliterate them
Cast them out
Create a vexatious void

As long as I have my heart and soul

I can still
Feel you looking at me

Red Shoes

Click clack
Click clack

The wonderful staccato
Ears honing in
On the source

Moving to it
Entranced by it
Needing to glimpse its source

Found her!
Snap of moment
Wisp of of leg

She's receding now
Winsome Asian delight
Out of sight

But it's there
Receding fast
That sound, that telling, delectable sound

Click clack
Click clack

The inspiration of this poem was a young, attractive Asian woman I saw in the parking lot at work. I was outside on break enjoying a mesmerizing day as the weather was summer-like and she must have been taking advantage of the weather. Oh my... long jet black hair. A simple little black dress and red high heels very much like the ones in the image. She could barely walk in them but I surmise from observing her boyfriend clutching her hip that she was wearing the shoes for him. Lucky man!

But I have to admit a smile creeped across my face watching her. [And yes, I barely noticed the lucky sod. Seriously he was really only in the periphery.] She made her stuttering progress across the parking lot and I could only think of one thing: "Thems definitely are fuck me shoes."

Not Enough Time

Christ, hurry
She said
Time is something we do not have
Do you understand

The smooth swip sound
Of lingerie being
Thrown 'round
Me readying

Christ, hurry
She said
Time is something we do not have
Do you understand

Rolling into bed
Sliding toward her
Grabbing her by the head
As she lets out a delicious purr

Christ, hurry
She said
Time is something we do not have
Do you understand

Looking into her eyes
Pumping and thrusting
Wondering why
Time is a'wasting

Christ, that was fast
She said
Time to have a repast
We must have time for that

Repercussions

Long lost, forever gone
Moments of ecstasy
Rapture after rapture
Until the smooth grace of satisfaction befalls

Us

Every movement to being bound
Countervailed
By what we shared
Until the capricious nature of love befalls

Us

You loved it when I hurt you
I loved it when I hurt you
You despised the hurt that was not our fault
Until the sanctity of another befalls

You

I am alone
The clutter whiz bang
Pain that crushes as mercurial as a Tsunami
The tide of battered beaten feelings of my lost love befalls

Me