Erstwhile Knocks Again

I see a ghost of a figure
a man tall of reddish
hair a growth abundant
Though ripened you he
isn't so

He claims compassion
a heart he owns
a love he says he knows
Though pain of loss
Bittered his soul

Eyes avert the purpose
of the wantons
of lustful hunts
Some meek longings
I suppose

They are dreary
tiring as they stare
On the low landings where
our feet
remain bare

And when the lids
become heavy with waters
Tiredly he lifts
his solemn world
Without seeing

I then watch to capture
the universe in those
eyes so drunken
Must I wonder
or say goodbye?

Mosaic (in) Marble

A facade on his ground
the tiles collected, inconsistent
it is his life in asymmetry

The colors change
shady to dark hue no
pastel save brightness in view

There feels a rough
cracked, caked stone
in each facsimile of form

Sometimes they mold
seldom parched to one's feel
In fact they cut and tear skin

Yet he encumbers for
those who step on these stones
They are marble with glory and form.

In submission

I am a woman who feels the need to be vulnerable
my body is yours to explore, tease, to enjoy
I am naked, defenseless, totally submissive
to your command, constraint, and control
My flower blooms and dews
as you pull my petals apart

Drink from me
As I feed your desires

You have the power
over my weakness and vulnerability
yet recognize that pleasure
not pain is what I sought to explore
You should be fit, strong
virile, commanding and restraining
but there must a gentleness
through words and caresses

are you my assertive and governing
master, my man?

Near Jarred Meandering

These hands bear vines of age
As timeless blood rush through
The narrow tubes thin and break
Yet her palpitating heart still rules

The youth of love in her bosom
Still the pain of another distinct
Fellow whose eon is less?
Than hers endure the mature

Flesh of longing in forms of
Pine, love and care
Her face with creases and lines
Break the smile just now appeared

Yet sunken her narrow brown eyes
As tearless yet not dry
White and pale her skin
Almost withers in pensiveness

As she ponders, muses
She suffers no bruises
And yet the mind disturbs
The silence of conditions

Bleak his unseasoned pith
He manages with his elfin eyes.

She Rises

Stretched like a cat
stirring in her bed of warmth.
She rises, smoky eyes clearing,
searching.

Lithe and strong
spring steel in motion.
With mutual contact we smile
as she comes,
her silent approach

Now a touch
a shudder.
Her smooth warmth melting
my texture.
I feel her inside

No words
But a kiss.
Evening sun on a peak
glowing, radiant

Firm flesh and soft fabric
Shared this moment
as thru time
without end
if we could

All of us now
In utter release
given to the other
rushing, building
trickle to stream
to river
Torrents and crashing
clouds of mist boiling

Cascades of touch
Removing our bodies
our eyes locked again
searching

Deeply we draw
of air incensed
Feeling ourselves
Regaining our footing

Again she stretches
pawing.
Soft pads caress
as we hold to our hearts
what we know to be true.

- SB

Pathways

Dawn is yet still dark
from night of last
from summer's end
real cold is yet

The road ahead come
streams of miles
a hundred and more
to skid, to burn these tires

Morning should soon
be breaking the mind
with unformed paths
but only this heart

Albeit all fears
unknown chances, or surprises
and fear for decisiveness
I tear inside.

At last a beam, or two
of Light risen from heaven's
crowns give traces of hope
my sunken raft takes

I float now on glistened roads
swelling like clear rivers
unwavering icy and sleek
as everyday waits for winter

and so I speed with god of who
guiding that safe harbors
be reached. A lighthouse
beam signs a rescue

Then hues of orange and gold
of snow in the summer trees
remark to my heart's content
Love and miracles, pleasures remain.

He Holds

He hides
In furrows of his soul
His mind
Speaks to itself
Not for language
To share as
His heart
Repeats its longing
For the woman
Who yearns
The love only
He holds

She pines
In creases of her soul
Her pain
Ceases while he
Not let her wander
Through thick
Groves of dread
He murmurs
She heeds to
Love’s silent
Touch only
He holds