My Dirty Laundry Poem

My favourite poet
has a poem about dirty laundry.
I know its prose
as if I wrote it for you.

But I did not understand it
until today.
Today I write my own
Dirty Laundry Poem.

This is how my poem to you goes:

I feel you kiss my earlobe & neck
& I am tugging at you
& your hands are on me;
our laundry falls away -
dirty.

I collect you in my hands
& mouth;
I consume you
& we grow wet;
excited with our juices
soiled linens
stained knees.

Bare flesh 
& I am exposed to you
comfortably open;
wild with passion
the laundry accumulates -
dirty clean
clean dirty

I wear my dirty laundry home
& plunge it into hot water,
coming clean.
I wash away the bits
of you & me,
& hang it all out to dry.

The soil is removed,
deposited crust,
dribbles & spots;
gone.

My laundry is ready & clean;
take me
take me out 
take me out to our place,
hidden but open;
more dirty laundry is ready
to be made.

The Path

I climb the path 

that takes me to

your heart;

through the ferns

& green, I search.

I kissed your mouth

when I found you

standing on the crest;

waiting for me to

give you what you need.

You took my hand

& lead me to your love.

What do I give you;

don't make me need you.

What do you want from me;

Don't make me want you.

I climb.

Through the wild

I kissed your face.

What do I need from you;

I search.

Don't make me climb.

I'm not what you need,

don't make me bleed.

It's too late;

I reached to you for more

& you extended your hand, open.

I kissed your mouth

& was on my knees.

I climbed the path to you.

You took my hand

& you took my heart -

through the forest

& over the rocks

you made me want you.

I see you & hold

my breath for more.

I swallow you & taste

your sweet breath -

I don't hold back.

I crawl through this

ache of love & desire,

through the soil & dirt -

it's what I need.

Our Hearts Break

My heart is breaking
I love you so much
& for all the time you have
spent by my side.

In this hour of pain
I watch you suffer;
nothing I could do,
or say,
will save your heart from breaking.
We weep.

Although I am far
away from you,
know that I stand
next to your heart.
Grasp onto me -
I will help you stand.

You are more to me
in this lifetime of friendship & love -
how am I so lucky to be able to say
how much you mean to me.

I will always be there for you
& I will always take your pain
& gladly place it onto my
own shoulders to bear.
This is what best friends do.
I am here.

Our hearts break
in this senseless pain.
I will hold you close -
lean on me dear friend.
I am here.

Me & you.
Thank God for that.

Happy Birthday

With celebration & loved ones
I send a note of good wishes,
good times
& sweet memories.

As you lace up your shoes
& chart the course of your next adventure,
remember to look over your shoulder
to those that cherish you most.

Run; keep sprinting & forge ahead.
As we all grow older & wiser;
allow your future to bring you all that is deserved.

This is the Happy Birthday Poem,
dear friend.
Light your candles
& as you blow,
think of your best wish;
the secret dream.

Another year is past;
the next awaits.
Make it everything
you want it to be.

Happy Birthday.

Erotically, yours.

Bring your mouth
to my tongue,
set your inhibitions to the side,
& kiss me with unsatiated hunger;
feast on me.

Whisper your most scurrilous desires
& wrap your hands around my heart.
Time for talking is up -
stake your demands for Action;
bring yourself,
expose yourself,
& validate your claims on my body.

Thrust yourself into my world
& place yourself in charge
of my body & mind.
Take what others before you
have tried to own.

You know you are on my mind,
now the poet aches & writhes
to feel you between her legs,
& feel you infiltrate her mind.

Do not deny my requests,
my demands for pleasure;
my pulse races with your touch
& my juices flow with satisfying desire.

You are my sexual love,
the subject of an erotic poem.
I am wet with you.

Secret Garden

Through the landscape
you navigate your way to
my secret garden;
follow the sound of my voice,
follow my silhouette as
I guide you to your desire.

Take my hand,
hold my heart.
Take my soul,
& allow yourself to be lead
into temptation -
taste the forbidden fruit,
without remorse.

You changed the geography.
You changed the course to
the valley & your arrival gives pleasure -
a welcomed lover to a sacred place.

Embrace this time that we
will briefly share;
an interlude of passion -
before our love is set free
to explore the next taboo affair.

Guilty Pleasure

Like my favorite sweet -
I melt into you - a dish of all things forbidden.
The sound of your voice,
the look in your eyes,
& the feel of your touch
sends me into a frenzied rush for more
& more.

You are my guilty pleasure;
something I know I cannot nor should not have.
But I secretly crave your touch
& hands.
We indulge in our desires
as we indulge in each other.

To satisfy this hunger;
I explore your body,
regardless of the costs
& potential for destruction.
I am uncontrolled when left
without you and only my imagination.

Nights not yet spent;
will we find each other,
& discover each other,
& devour each other?
Will my guilt slip away
as you infiltrate my mind?

I am staggering;
drunken with excitement
of seeing you,
of tasting you.
How long will we stage the scene
before we commit to the act?

Feed me.
The poet is hungry for you.

Technical Analysis

Without expectations or requirements,
you stood before me with open heart & hands -
although not mine for the taking.
Our needs overshadowed reality
& I found myself before you -
awaiting your touch;
awaiting salvation from my desire.

Without formality or introduction
I await your glance my way.
No analysis;
no judgement.
It was only you that put yourself before my feet -
mine for the taking.

Do not give me your technical analysis -
your sermon of right & wrong -
the poet follows her heart
& the path that leads to you;
the path that is willingly surveyed & measured
& that leads directly to my heart.

Understand me without examination;
take me for what I am;
& take me like you have had no other,
& forget all inhibitions.

Set down your pen.
Put your phone on hold.
Place your focus & hands on me.
No report will be requested.
No summary of events; opinion; or account required.
No recommendations will be made.

Between just me & you -
with no business of committee, council or board -
it was your touch that
cast reality aside.
Perhaps we need an engineered solution for our heartache -
our unfinished business -
deduced to a formula
for calculation & debate.

Do not question.
Only pleasure.

Summer Already

Hello Dear Readers,

It's been a long time since I've written...the daily grind keeps grinding and suddenly the rains have (mostly) stopped and the weather is turning nice.  I do not have any new poetry to share with you today, however I am going to get on it and draft some new material.

I've been reading a lot of books as of late...I've read several memoirs and autobiographies (Keith Richards, Shania Twain, Stephen Tyler) plus some others and I'm part way through yet more.  I'm not one to limit myself to one good read at a time and have no problem reading 3, 4, 5 or more books at once.  I think I'd like on of those electronic book readers for the bus on my way to work each day, but there's just something satisfying about holding a real book in your hands.

It's nice to be back on the blog.  I'll be in touch soon.

Lolita

Christmas Leftovers

Hi Munchkins,

We made it through the wilderness,
somehow we made it through,
didn't know how lost I was
until I found you.....

hahaha just testing to see if the above sounds familiar... :)
Oh Christmas, you are finally over.  So long, New Year's.
Lolita is finally getting happier.  I'm happy to have the few Christmas decorations that I managed to put up put away for another 360 days.  Just to be sure, I even shipped them back to my quasi-in law's for storage on Vancouver Island.  Sayonara Christmas! 

With New Year's under my belt, I have good news and not-so-good-news.  On the downer side, my cat that I talked about in previous posts died the day before Christmas Eve, just to add to the joy of the season.  It's been just over 2 weeks now and I'm still adjusting to life without my "buddy."  I miss him.   

I have not been writing any poetry lately but I'm sure that will pass, although the throws of passion are the furthest from my mind these days with all the other daily shit that is going on in my life.  It's back to work, back to day care, back to life.  I made no New Year's resolutions but have been trying to stick to my drink-no-booze-during-the-week rule (i.e. Sunday thru Thursday).  I pretty much made it this week although by Tuesday I filled my usual wine-tasting spree with Wii Fit. Gak. Who knew that one's fucking forearms would be sore from using the Wii.  Maybe it's right: I am a couch potato.  After years of being a fitness finatic, even I am struggling with this new reality.  Anyways, I have been working out with the Wii Fit, not been indulging in unauthorized vino (sniffle) and am on the path to health and happiness and enlightenment (or maybe that's just the St. John's Wort talking.)

Well I'll do me best to my poetry, so stay tuned darlings.

Lolita

Poetry Lessons

A lesson in love poetry:

Let me show you what it is that
I want you to do to me.
Let my hands & mouth be the
road map to your desire -
the answer to your longing.

Allow yourself to divest your
passion & soul into my heart.
My body will answer all of your
questions & queries.

Place your hands onto my body
as if I were an open chalice -
ready to deliver pure passion
straight to your lips.
Let me show you how to find the
lover you were meant to be with me.

Indulge in my poetry as if you participated
directly in my passions -
Free yourself to imagine what your poem might
sound like as though it were written for you.
I will allow my eyes & heart to indulge in your
body & mind as if they were made for me.

Become a student of erotic pleasure -
a taste of the forbidden,
a touch of the forgotten,
& I promise you, dear reader,
that you will become a master
in the art of love & me.

I'm really not that into you, Christmas.

Hello Love Junkies,

With the countdown to Christmas officially speeding toward the merry day, I suppose I should get my ass off the crazy-train and get into the Spirit.  It's been a long year and I usually enjoy the fervour of the season.

My fake pre-lit tree is up, but without one decoration it looks pretty but bland.  No cookies are baked.  The turkey is frozen in the freezer.  The boxes of decorations are stacked on top of each other behind the couch.  The cat occasionally strolls by the boxes and tugs at decorations; grazing on the fake tree garland before puking it back up on the kitchen tiles.  Thanks.  I have not bought any gifts either.  Not. One. Single. Gift.  Thanks to my crazy relatives, there are piles of gifts for the small people in the house.  The cat might even have one under there.  I guess it may be true:

This year I'm really not that into you, Christmas. 

This week is my office Christmas pot-luck lunch.  Like an idiot, in retrospect, I was the jolly idea-giver to have the potluck rather than a luncheon out at somewhere where you can never make everyone happy.  It was a tradition we used to do at my old office and you can usually make most people happy with it as they show off their spouses-hard-earned cooking skills.  Of course, I am now wondering how I am going to tote a crock-pot of cocktail meatballs first on a packed train and then on a packed bus in the morning rush en route to dropping the kidlet at daycare. Hmmm.

I am feeling a bit 1) guilty about not getting any gifts (yet...I'm assured there's still time) and 2) liberated from the gluttony of the season.  I watch with amusement the crazy-eyed shoppers paying top dollar for "this year's toy" or a sweater for granny.  I'm sure she'll love it.

So I've come up with a 5-day Christmas Plan:

1) Monday - buy the stuff for your meatballs and lettuce canoes tonight, dummy. Stock up the house with Bailey's & wine.
2) Tuesday - assemble the meatballs & canoes.  Tote EMPTY crock-pot on mass-transit.  I think that by toting an empty crock I will avoid what could be a guaranteed disaster.
3) Wednesday - Bring the meatballs & canoes in ziplock containers.  Heat at work and enjoy the day.  Could be a good night to slip out to get a couple of gifts.  Wrestle crock-pot back on mass-transit.  Buy more wine.
4) Thursday - More shopping, if needed. Thaw the bird. Get Christmas dinner groceries. 
5) Friday - Wrap. Buy more wine. Office closes early, so there will be more time for wine!  Bake the Santa cookies.  Eat them immediately after Kidlet-bedtime.

So my plan seems like more of a call-to-duty than genuine Spirit, but I'm ok with that.  I'm assured that "faking it" once and awhile is normal.  As long as I don't fuck-up taking the bird out of the freezer, I'm pretty sure everything else will work out.  I've requested books for Christmas. The Kidlet is getting Lego.  There's lots of wine on the list to get me through.  Hmmm...now that I read it back I think I'm actually pretty normal!

I'm not sure what it is about this time of year that makes everyone crazy.  Especially people that I am related to.  I received a bizarre message from my father last week.  I suppose it's fairly safe to say that I won't be calling him back anytime soon.  Every time I let this person into my life just a little bit, he just shows up with disappointment in hand.  Enough.  No more.  I'm not going to pretend that I want a relationship with this person.  I just don't. Period.  Same goes with my brother.  He's more fucked-up than anyone else I know and I can see quite clearly where he gets it from.  Both alike they are.  More on this twitchy topic later.

Enjoy your day my little Elves.
-Lola

Read Needs

There is something about this time of year that makes me want to just call in sick and curl up with a coffee (if it's morning) or a glass of wine (if it is reasonably close to or after noon) and dig into a good book.  I find that when I get into a good book, not much gets between me and The End. 

My favourite genre right now is memoir/autobiography.  I did the fiction trail for a while but these days I like to read about people having experiences of their own, how they handled them and the lessons they learned.  I have also tossed around the idea of writing my own memoirs, but I haven't really drafted an outline or even wrapped my thoughts around what might be so interesting about my life that someone would want to spend their time reading about it.  Until then, I'll continue to dabble at poetry, as this comes fairly easily to me right now.  I suppose the tough work lies ahead of me when I am ready to take it on.

So while I ponder my own memoir, I've decided to draft a list of books that I want to read.  I recently finished "Even Silence Has an End" by Ingrid Batancourt upon the recommendation of a friend.  A captivating story of a woman held hostage in the jungles of South America by the Farc for over 6 years.  While the story was fascinating, I did find it repetitive as she circled around lost in dampness, loneliness and never ending green year after year.  It was good and worth the 2 weeks that I spent reading it.  Currently I am reading "The Snowball"  by Alice Schroeder.  A fascinating read about the man behind Berkshire Hathaway...the company that pretty much owns "everything." (Think Coca-Cola, Geico Insurance, Benjamin Moore Paints, Dairy Queen, The Pampered Chef and Fruit of the Loom...just to name a few).  At about 950 pages, it's a meaty read and I admit that when I pick it up, I can't put it down...but when I do a week or more can go by before I pick it up again.

So having committed to reading The Snowball, I have no business eyeing up other books.  I find myself in Chapters, thumbing through the new releases.  I find myself wanting each new book Oprah announces her new selection.  I admit I own books on my crowded bookcases that I haven't read yet.  Good thing about books though, is that they are always there waiting for me when I finally reach for them.


The List:
"Committed: A skeptic makes peace with marriage" by Elizabeth Gilbert.  Her follow up memoir to "Eat, Pray, Love."  It's on one of my crowded bookcases I mentioned.  An easy read that I know I will enjoy and read quickly when I get to it.

"Freedom" by Jonathan Franzen.  Cited as the "novel of the decade by a great American novelist." I hear it's a page turner.

"My Spiritual Journey" by The Dalai Lama.  The memoir of a great living legend.


"Unbearable Lightness: A story of loss and gain" by Portia de Rossi.  Not just because I'm a big fan of Ellen Degeneres who has avidly pushed her wife's book, it sounds like a story that any woman who has struggled with self-image should read.


Harry Potter Boxed Set.  All 7 novels.  I read the very first one years ago and then saw some of the movies thereafter.  Since then, I've caught up on the movies and did enjoy them.  With the last two movies coming out, I figure it's time to sit down and read the books.  They are truly magical.

"The Teachings of the Buddha."  A book I've had for years that I reach for when I am seeking balance.  This is on my night stand now.

"Vij's at Home: Relax, Honey: The warmth and ease of Indian Cooking" by Meeru Dhalwala & Vij Virkham.  Local Vancouver restaurateurs that are fantastic and I need to spend more time learning to cook Indian food.

"The Food of Morocco" by Jane Lawson.  To get more of my exotic foodie fix.

"Life" by Keith Richards.  As the saying goes, after the nuclear winter two things will survive: cock roaches and Keith Richards.  Sounds like an interesting read that has been getting good reviews, probably for the fact that it's amazing he remembers everything...just not in any particular order.

"Say You're One of Them" by Uwem Akpan.  Another Oprah recommendation that I'm sure will deliver.


"Happens Every Day: an all-too-true story" by Isabel Gillies.  A memoir of heartbreak as a marriage ends.  This is on one of my bookcases too.


Well that should do for now.  I'm sure I'll add more later.


-L

Life Happens

Hi Friends,


After 14 months and hours of anxiety later, I am finally into another chapter of this book called Life.  A life-changing event happened to me those long 14 months ago...almost as significant as the birth of my son.  I was involved in a tragic accident that cost a life, changed lives and has brought me to many hours of trying to come to terms with the whole thing.  I struck a pedestrian with my car, and she died.

My friends & family have rallied behind me, comforting me, telling me "shit happens," it was an accident.  An accident.  The courts have accepted my guilt, fined me $1000 plus a 15% "victims of crime" surcharge and relieved me of my drivers licence for 3 months.  I am assured I am not a criminal, just a distracted driver apparently.  So I am going to just sit down and write about what happened, in the hopes of allowing me to forgive myself.


October 3, 2009

On this sunny morning, bright & early at 8:00 a.m., I was driving to the hospital for a pre-natal ultrasound.  Given that I had developed pre-eclampsia, I was undergoing regular fetal screening and blood pressure tests.  The sun had just risen over an apartment building in the foreground and as I entered the right-hand turn lane, an elderly woman entered the crosswalk.  I did not see her, blinded by the sun.  Even at 20 km/hr, it was enough for her to land on my hood and fall to the asphalt.  I will never forget the falling feeling in my heart when I made eye contact with her before she slid off the hood.  I will never forget the sound of my own voice that cried out "No!"  It sounded like it came from someone else in the car, but it had to be mine, as I was alone.  After the ambulances, fire trucks, police and eyewitnesses had all cleared, shaky behind the wheel, I continued on to the hospital.  I wasn't even late for my appointment.

Two weeks later I had my son two weeks early.  I was artificially-induced due to "pre-eclampsia," a fancy medical term for high blood pressure during pregnancy.  The doctors were so concerned with my stress levels and racing blood pressure that I could have had a life-ending seizure.  In addition, a portion of the placenta had detached and died and my son had stopped growing in utero.  He is now a very happy and healthy pre-toddler, I am happy to report.


In the months following the accident, the nice young constable that attended the scene arrived at my door, paperwork in hand.  He wore a long frown and a furrowed brow as he delivered the news to me that Crown had decided to pursue charges.  I think he was at that moment more devastated about the charges than I initially was.


Fast forward 10 months.  I decided to plead guilty to one charge of "driving with undue care and attention" and accepted ownership of the accident.  I will never know if the lady saw me coming or not, however the court reassured His Honour that it didn't matter; I entered the crosswalk when I shouldn't have.  Case closed.  Of course, the worst part of the hearing, all 10 minutes of it, were the glares I know that were being sent my way from the members of the family that were there.  The lady's daughter glared at me like I was the Grim Reaper in the flesh as she frostily told me who she was in the hallway.  As if I did any of this on purpose.  I watched Oprah the other day (oh, I know, I know), and she had a guest on that was the victim of a horrid crime.  She asked him if he would ever forgive the person that changed his life forever.  He said: "You can forgive someone for stealing your car.  You can forgive someone for slapping your face.  You can forgive someone for causing an accident.  To forgive pure evil however, is not appropriate."  (His wife and 2 daughters were brutally murdered in his home as he was left for dead in the basement.)  I secretly hope that the family will one day forgive me for causing the accident.  More so however, is that one day I hope to forgive myself.


-Lola

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.