that send letters
back to England three centuries ago,
no postage stamps that make letters
travel back until the grave hasn’t been dug yet,
and John Donne stands looking out the window,
it is just beginning to rain this April morning,
and the birds are falling into the trees...
it's funny how hello is always accompanied with goodbye it's funny how good memories can start to make you cry it's funny how forever never seems to last it's funny how much you'd lose if you forgot about your past it's funny how “friends” can just...
To see my heart and soul.
No lips but yours,
Pressed firmly to mine,
Soft, warm, intoxicating...
No hands but yours,
To hold tenderly in my own,
To feel them moving over my body,
Thrilling and arousing me to my core.
No arms but yours,
Holding me and pulling me
So close to you...
I seemed to have loved you numberless times, in numberless forms...
In life afer life, age after age, forvever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear around your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age...
porque estás como ausente,
y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te toca.
Parece que los ojos se te hubieran volado
y parece que un beso te cerrara la boca.
Como todas las cosas están llenas de mi alma
emerges de las cosas, llena del alma mía.
Mariposa de sueño, te...
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in it's roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal,
From all I may be, and...
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day.
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands, the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your...
Something deeply spiritual. The way we fall into one another so naturally like our love was carved of the earth. There star system bursting at our fingertips when we touch we're in tune. Our hearts croon the same old song. The universe planned for us. I know it, I know it..( B...
A shearsman of sorts. The day was green.
They said, "You have a blue guitar,
You do not play things as they are."
The man replied, "Things as they are
Are changed upon the blue guitar."
And they said then, "But play, you must,
A tune beyond us, yet ourselves,
A tune upon...
dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be ; she loves the bare, the withered trees; she walks the sodden pasture lane. Her pleasure will not let me stay. She talks and I am fain to list; she's glad the birds are gone away, she's glad her simple worst grey is silver...
and yet not starved;
Cold, yet had heat within me that was proof
Against the North wind; tired, yet so that rest
Had seen the sweetest thing under a roof.
Then at the inn I had food, fire, and rest,
Knowing how hungry, cold, and tired was I.
All of the night was quite...
Of course she was going to make some enemies along the way. A smart women is a beautiful women. A beautiful women is a dangerous women. A dangerous women is a intimidating women. And for those reasons alone are too much for some. It mattered to her though. She still carried some...
and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have held me
till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered voices that not again
Will turn to me...
in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless...
just shells,but the voice of the sea,the Moon and Sun reflected,the hands of the waterrushing to touch, rushingto pull me close and tell mestories of love and bitterness.I’ve collected the play and cryof gulls and doves and pelicans,the crawl of crabs, footprintsand hearts...
ways you might like to think so, she did not have hair that dripped gold, her eyes were not the color of the cold sea , her smile was crooked and bent, her lips were chapped and thin. She did not have a gentle laugh nor did she speak humble thoughts but a she was beautiful in...
“I want to see you.Know your voice.Recognize you when youfirst come 'round the corner.Sense your scent when I come into a room you've just left.Know the lift of your heel,the glide of your foot.Become familiar with the way you purse your lipsthen let them part, just the...
that I made.
It's called 'A Rose On Concrete.' Tell me what you think!
"Dreams are nothing but absurd
That's what they choose to believe,
Oho! They must have never heard
About the rose that grew on the concrete,
Why do they choose to be blind
When the truth is there to see...
a tangled orchard where dark damsons drop in the heavy grass, an overgrown little wood, a pool that nobody's fathomed the depth of and paths threaded with flowers planted by the mind...Katerine Mansfield
mind;bathing me in sweet acronyms,traced upon curve in calligraphywhile whispering in prose our dreamsand...he'd dip his quill; inking upon my skin,noun's and verb's I'd absorb into my heartthen...my poet, whispers again sweepingme off my feet in syllabic count;taking control of...
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of...
He creates powerfully romantic, sensual images that speak to being human, and our desire for romantic love. Beautiful!
Place your hands upon me
like a big tent preacher
and with a whisper
heal all that aches
Put your lips upon my forehead
and glance your eyes
to the sky...
to feel what shall not be spoken of but only felt by your most sacred moments in time. To see what your heart feels, what you think as you observe your day, those thoughts you keep stacked away, always nagging at your skin, wanting to be released but not to be shared. I want to...
"I'm passionate about poetry because I'm an oceanic person, meaning, I love what's underlying. I love the conversation that isn't just verbal. I love the shadowed mystery and waves and underground. If I had to choose one thing to read for the rest of my days, give me poetry as to...
are like sugar on my tongue or the way velvet feels to the tips of fingers
I can’t stop wanting or touching, lusting for your blood where rumors in the night feed me such a sweet desire
crying out for my soul to step closer, closer I hear the...
have some work published some day (if the Hollywood superstar thing doesn't happen first)..but in case it takes a while here's her first published work..text to me by her elder sister this morning.
"I wonder why
The moon is high
It's like a pie
Up in the sky"
After a while you learn the subtle difference
between holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't always mean security.
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises
and you begin...
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge --
'Tis midnight, but small thoughts have I of sleep:
Full seldom may my friend such vigils keep!
Visit her, gentle Sleep! with wings of healing,
And may this storm be but a mountain-birth,
May all the stars hang bright above her...