Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Boss

The boss of my heart commands my
mind and soul.
My thoughts are consumed by the hours
spent with you, & I secretly pray they will
stretch to days & forever.
I am a slave to your love although
it is given freely to me.

Our respect and trust developed over
the years & love was found after the hours
& days finally added up to us.
Where we have been before us is not
what matters now.
Where we are going as us is
what matters next.

Lessons learned & lovers lost have taught
us how delicate we must hold each others
hearts in our hands.
Lessons & lovers have taught
us that we are precious & deserving of
the rare & precious gift of me & you.

My soul mate is you,
& I am yours.
The world made us wait days til now
where we finally hold our last meeting in business
& begin the business of our lives & love.
Merged to you I am complete.

Together in love we are building our future
& creating memories to hold before us.
So that we may look back,
& smile
& laugh
& love.

The boss of us is called love;
we have looked through the days
& lovers & thru time to find it.
We are now here, I have arrived to you & you to me.
We stand before each other with open hearts
to sign the final seal of our love.

Burgundy Sheets

We meet in the early morning hours
between sheets the colour of wine.
I hold you close
& I know that you are mine.

I slip into your room,
I know it well even though it is dark.
You awake silently as I slip off
my clothes & press my cool skin
against your warmth.

You awaken to my touch
& our sense come alive.
A gentle kiss; an embrace from behind;
& you know that I am yours.

The burgundy sheets know us well,
they know our sporadic love
meets between their threads
when the neighbours sleep
& when spouses are away.

It is you my lover, my love,
who brings me to places I have
not been to for so long, so easily;
no walls, no barriers amongst
the maroon sea.

For it is between these burgundy sheets
that have begun to fade because of
our rubbing; the washing; the rubbing;
that we learn that love has wrapped its
arms & legs & fingers & toes
around us.

Morning has arrived & we sweat.
The window is fogged in; the cats
want out.
We still hunger for each other yet
time is up; like we are on some type
of stop watch that neither of us control.

We leave the burgundy sheets &
know that they lie touching against
each other; waiting until we meet again.

My Love, My Heart

Without looking, you were there
& I welcomed you into my centre.
Without wanting, you became a part
of my life & my world.
You are my heart.

My love, my love...I have looked for you.
My heart, my heart...I have longed to feel your beat.
This life of ours; this life of mine, I cannot
imagine you not in it.
You bring to me love & life & love & happiness;
love & joy & all in between.
Where have you been?

I am whole next to your half;
the part that completes me, that makes me one & of you.
I take you with me throughout my day & I hold you at night.
It is you that I think of.
It is you that I dream of.
It is only you.
You are my love.
My heart.

Carry me with you & carry my touch to your soul.
I will strip to the flesh & bone,
& bare myself to you.
I place my heart before your hands.
I place my love before your feet.
I expose myself with only love & no fear.

I do not question before or after, but only now.
Now I hold you.
Now I have you.
You are a part of my love & life,
to be loved in return.

You are my heart.
You are my love.

Lover & Best Friend

I’m up alone on nights like tonight,
my head & heart overflowing with
thoughts of you –
sweet memories fresh with passion
years in the making.
Miles & years between us have not
changed those feelings we have hid
from ourselves & others.

With you, my best friend, I am safe
& warm within your hands & arms.
Love has always been there for us,
yet not easy to have.
My heart aches with the unknown amount
of time before me –
when will we meet again?

I will dream of you & of you holding me,
the way you have for the time behind us.
I secretly pray for more time
ahead of us – when I can hold you again
& recommit my love
& passion for you.

When I close my eyes all I have is
visions of you & I replay over & over
our few precious moments that
we have shared over the years till now.
Bring me your hands & heart
& I will make mountains of memories
out of them for you.

Come to me & save me from this
heartache of passion & longing for you.
Close the distance between our worlds –
two souls so close cannot live apart as we do.
Surely no world could be so cruel.

When you come home to me,
the time & space between us will melt away,
a glacier of love will recede
& reveal the true origin of our loves extent.

Lost Love

I return to you – as I always do –
you are never far from my mind.
Although time has passed
& distance separates us,
it is always you.

Sometimes I wonder about why
we are not together – the way we should be –
do we deserve our love?
Will we be the love affair
without the ever-after?

When will I see you again?
Kiss me as if I never left with
suitcase in hand.
Kiss me when I arrive as if we
know that I will soon leave you again –
another unknown amount of time
& distance awaits us.

Touch me as if I were the one & only thing
that gives you purpose
& desire.
Touch me with your passionate hands –
Touch me with your passionate mind.
Engulf me with your eyes.

Make me sweat
in anticipation of your love.
Make me believe you are the only
one for me.
Make me never want to leave your side.
Don’t let me go.

Cortes Ferry

Early morning hours we sail into darkness
over the smooth waters the colour of granite.
What lies ahead is what is left behind
as we sail from island to island.

The sea awakens before us as the sun lifts the darkness
& the ocean transforms from black to gray,
a swirling & waving mix of colour that
reminds me of my summer flower garden
in a gentle breeze.

Glancing across our oily reflections we see
the boulders resting quietly against the shoreline;
the eagle in search of food for its young,
& the mountains towering above all
the lands like kings.

The only movement on the glass is
the calm waves rolling away from us with
memorizing motions only threatened by the
sinister turbulence our engine derives.

We sail to the shore,
marvelling all the luscious sights
& we thank the sea for sharing its
calm moments with us.

Sailing Home

My love sails to your heart
through turbulent seas more turbulent
than any moment in time;
& over waters deeper than any feelings
for you or lovers past.

The colours of my voyage reflect the
colours of my mind & my life.
The colours of our love reflect
in a mirror of sea.

You look at me with ocean eyes –
full of unknown landscapes that are
separated by mountains, like the way
the deserts are separated by seas.

I sail to you, my heart abreast the tideline,
the knots between us narrow.
Will you be there, waiting for my ship?
Will you see my mast on the horizon,
erect on the water that summons your love?

My white flag waves in the salty air;
& I give into your love & your ocean eyes.
Your love beckons to me,
cautioning me against sailing into the rocks.

I sail to you through black oceans,
turbulent moments & forbidden landscapes.
I know that the next time I board,
I will board onto you like calm waters;
your love rocking me gently with the
waving liquids in my channel.

This is what sailing home will be.
To my one true love that waits
for the end of my voyage;
carrying my love in open hands.

Volcano

I strain to remember but there are a few
things  that I shall never forget –
like the taste of your tongue on my tongue;
the feeling of your skin against my flesh;
the rhythm of our bodies becoming one
in the early morning hours, late at night,
& during hours when others look away.

I close my eyes to see you.
You appear crystal clear and fresh before me
like ripe fruit on the vine –
ready to burst in my mouth with the taste of the sun.
New flavour awaits me.
Love opens before my eyes, even though I look away.

I can’t help but see you.
I cannot stop thinking about you.
I want to touch your touch against me,
yet I have to hold my passion in –
like a volcano ready to erupt.

As the pressure mounts,
I burn hot waiting.
Silently and alone,
I wait.
Trembles within me go unnoticed.

Sweet memories are kept alive by passion,
and my rumbles of protest are kept within.
I wait for the spring.
Waiting for the eruption.

Suddenly without warning I am ready to
open and release myself to you,
blooming with every touch you give.
I erupt, pouring my love to you,
filling an empty chasm that leads straight to my heart.

I give into you.
I erupt in love.


Songwriter

Dear Songwriter:
Will you write a song for me?
Put your pen to page & fingers to instrument
& think of me.
Paint a picture in your mind
of my lips kissing your soul.

Put your heart into it & into me,
& I promise the words will flow
from you & directly into me.
I will wait while you seek the
words to tell me your heart.

My pulse will race
when you combine the lyrics with music,
& my heart will pound in my chest.
I anticipate what you will sing next.
I anticipate your touch,
& I anticipate you.

Your music & rhythm keep me awake all night long.
Your words & mind distract me all day long.
Will you compose a song for me –
As the poet writes prose for you?
Will our words come together
& create a perfect dance of love?

I wait to hear the first draft –
the first raw cut with shaking
hands & voice.
I will roll around in your words & song
as if I were in your bed.

I know before you even begin to sing
what your story will say.
I know that neither the poet
nor the songwriter will be lost for words –
although we both know that nothing will be read or sang
when our arts collide.

Bring your song to me,
& will share my heart with you.
Bring your touch to me,
& I will melt under your fingertips.
Bring your rhythm & rhyme –
dear songwriter –
& I will fall into your mind.

The Agenda

I travel to you –
another conference on the books.
A week of learning, laughing & love.
My suitcase is packed, full of
suits that I will not wear.
For I am sure that I will only be wearing you.

If time has taught us anything,
it is that I am nothing without you.
You are my best friend, my best lover,
& I cannot imagine a world without you in it.
My world, my soul & my body
would be empty without you.

When I arrive, I want you to strip me bare
& clothe me with your body.
Suits & ties will go untouched –
mouths will go unfed.
I will fill myself with you.

I can anticipate you in my mind as we
have been here before.
Another room will bear witness to our love.
Another town will never be the same for either of us.
Passionate memories will keep us coming back for more.

Each year we grow older
& each year we grow closer even though
we are apart.
Each year an agenda is carried out
& neither of us will follow it –
we both prefer the unwritten word.

When I reach to you I know that I
will not have to ask to be held close.
When I hold you I know that I
will consume you with all of my pores.
When I kiss you I know that we will have already
started to plan our next meeting.

A Poem for my (Lover)

On these cold winter nights & days –
my pen scratching at the page,
madly recording my ideas & imagination –
I replay our passion in a poem.
I write for you.

Light the fire in the hearth
with your hands & heat the cottage,
just as your hands bring out the
heat within me.

Long mornings in your bed
make the weekend at your cottage
extend into a blizzard of passion.
I am gripped in your arms
& tangled in your sheets.

You ignite insurmountable pleasure
as gusts of wind chill the air,
& I layer you on top of me
as you stoke my internal fire.
We drift off to sleep; your bed holds us
& our dreams become a bridge of time
until we awake to the delight of the next blizzard.

We arise in the early evening –
escaping from your bedroom after being
held hostage to passion –
like two prisoners shown an open door,
we are unsure if we really want to leave
to tend the simmering soup on the stove.
(Although we are certain that we will return
to the heap of pillows & blankets later.)

Spoon with me after soup.
Eat with me after love.
Drink with me the wine I have brought
& lick your glass as if it were me.
Add fuel to the fire –
it’s going to be a long evening inside.

Ink Drop

Write me a letter, a poem, or a song.
Tell me how you feel and the way that you think it.
Will its contents be of love or longing?
Lost opportunity or found truth?
Sing to me in your words so that I will know
where your mind is, and if your mind forms
thoughts of me and about us.

When your pen flows to tell your story
will it find it’s way to me?
Where does this story you tell me start –
how will it end?
Will I appear in the final chapter or
will I form a piece of the middle – the thickest
part of the plot –
a build up to an explosive climax?

This story that we move through; yet unnamed.
I wait to hear the version of the author,
like the way two lovers long to touch between each minute.
Will you name each chapter or simply assign them a number –
to keep count of how your love for me started small, then
grew and climbed to higher peaks?
Will I successfully climb your mountain?

Line by line; verse by verse; chapter by chapter:
tell me your life and tell me your love.
Expose yourself to me; vulnerable to the touch
like fresh ink on the page.
I won’t wipe you away.

I smear your touch unto me.
A permanent mark stains my skin
and forever stamps the page.
It is the story of our love.
This is my ballad to you.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

The Joy of Poetry

Hello darlings,

In advance of this blog, I have not shared my poems with many people. Being that poetry is a fairly sheer medium to express oneself, it's not something that I generally show at dinner parties. By sheer, I mean exposing, transparent and/or revealing of my sex life and partners. Secondly, I never know how people will interpret it. Will they start analyzing the poem...and therefore me, or will they just enjoy it for pure enjoyment sake, relating it to their own sexual or erotic experiences?

Inevitably, I am asked where my poetry inspiration comes from; who I am writing about; what was happening when I wrote a particular poem...etc, etc. So when it comes to revealing poetic inspirations, I have established some ground rules:

The Poetic Rules:

1) I never kiss and tell (i.e. reveal the source/inspiration/person of said poem). The reasons for this are basic privacy and respect but also it's not always a specific person that inspires a particular poem.  Also, the mystery of not knowing where the hell I come up with this stuff also keeps some of the fantasy alive for the reader.  That said, I will say that sometimes a poem stems from an event, a combination of times, places, or experiences that happened, or pure fantasy on my part. We read a lot in popular culture about songwriters writing nasty songs about their ex lovers and the pain they caused. This is the anti-thesis to my love poetry.  I'm not on a mission to divulge the particulars or identities of my lovers, when I had a particularly good lover, or not.

2) Sometimes, but not always, I will write a poem about a particular lover and may or may not share it with them, either at that time or in the future.  This guideline serves two purposes: a) If my lover knows about my "poetry" hobby, I wouldn't want them to believe I was only searching for new material and therefore using them for the sake of my art.  This is distasteful and really never leads to "The Good Stuff" regardless as it was not created from true passion; and b) keeps the time lines of poetry writing somewhat vague and therefore more intriguing.  I'm not trying to keep a chronology of sexual events here.  If I wanted to do that I'd just keep a diary.

3) The metaphors that I use as a "back drop" to my poems are common, every day things, events or places that most people can relate to.  For example, in The Grand Storm, the metaphor is a life raft in a nasty sea being torn apart by strong winds and rains.  However, the reader quickly learns that the "life raft" is a bed and the "ocean" is a hotel room. This particular poem also bears a few other personal reminders of the blessed event although one particular one is hidden so well only the other person who participated in the event would know what I'm talking about.  (See Guideline #1 as to why I will leave it at that.)

So those are the basics.  I enjoy writing in general and if I thought I could actually make a living at it on a full-time basis, I'd probably go for it.  Until then, I'll continue reach for my tattered poetry note book and hopefully the inspirations will continue to manifest before me.

The Joy of Poetry

The joy of my poetry writing is also attributed to my writing style.  I strive to draft a poem that would add to the experience for both the reader and the writer.  For example, I never rhyme words.  I think rhyming in love poetry is tacky and limits the essence of the experience.  Even when I'm drafting a poem if I accidentally rhyme words I will purposefully go back and re-write and come up with an alternate.  I only have one or two poems where an occasional rhyme sneaks in, but it was not on purpose.

I also prefer the "&" symbol for "and" for pure aesthetic reasons.  Not much mystery there.  I just like the way "&" looks in the poem.

Another thing I never do is utilize crass verbiage or offensive statements.  For one, they they look ugly in the poetic type and I consider them next to cheating.  Part of the creative outlet of poetry writing is trying to articulate a specific encounter in a beautiful way.  I have been considering throwing out the odd "f" bomb to see how it looks and works, but it must be done in a way that it doesn't distract from the experience of the poem.  Overtly saying "we fucked in a hotel room" just doesn't convey the same message as "lying next to you between rented sheets and walls," does it?  There was so much more going on at the time.  See how in that context it doesn't work??  Hmmm.  I'll have to ponder this one a bit longer.

Ok now that I've divulged a bit of info on The Joy of Poetry and my writing particulars, I need to get writing some poetry!

-L

Friday, November 26, 2010

The Latte Factor

Hours spent on our friendship thru
the years & we have managed to accumulate
love as a result.
Enough to last the remainder
of our lifetimes together – over a cup of coffee
& stacks of pancakes.

You bring me my morning coffee –
Extra hot passion, stirred with love.
The caffeine in my drink makes my
heart speed up as if it were you
in the cup.

The hot vanilla foam
is rich in my mouth.
Its creamy texture warms my throat and skin.
Sugary sweet & I gulp it down,
as if it were you.

Your love washes thru & over me
& I savor you whole.
You are worth all the time spent.
You are worth all the pocket change & coins found.
You are worth all the burned tongues & dribbled on shirts & stains.

You are my comfort; like this latte before me.
Extra hot & smooth.
I factor that your love for me
is worth more than you think.
Little by little, day by day;
it added up fast.

I set my empty cup down
& look up at you.
We both know that we have invested wisely
in our love for each other.

You drink me in.
I swallow you whole.

Love Junkie

Addicted to you –
I am a love junkie.
I wait for the next hit of your love to
wash over me with waves of pleasure.
I can find no substitute for the
eroticism that you give.

Drugged to you –
I am a love addict.
Your words whispered to me make me want
more and more of you.
I try to soak all of you in through my pores.
No alternative, no matter how hard I try,
will satisfy me the way you do.

Hooked on you –
I am a love slave.
Your touch robs me of my senses and my
body intuitively begs for more & more.
I shake uncontrolled without your
love flowing through my veins & heart.

High on you –
I am a love cloud.
I float above all the daily conundrums –
oblivious to such demeanour and routine tasks,
for my agenda involves only you.
The rush of love is no competition
for our daily world.
I feel sorry for those who have not experienced
anything as close as us.

Fixed on you –
I am a love wreck.
Two minutes without you seems two years.
I wait until the next time we will meet –
& we will engulf each other in passion
without missing a beat.

I am a love junkie.
You are my drug of choice.
It cannot be any other way for either of us.
We need each other to fuel the passion
Of our love.