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Saturday, January 25, 2014

without sin


gently with my warm hand, I place you
in the pocket of my soul, you can't walk away.
we’ve shared soft wet kisses and
so many lustful embraces, this, before we
unabashedly consummated our love at that
unforgettable place where only
you and I remember. we didn’t care of the many
eyes that were upon us as chippies stopped
their play and perched on weeping willow
limbs drooping like an English Sheep dogs coat
hiding its eyes and only he knows what he sees   

like Adam and Eve before shame befell them,
we meld our juices with the earth to let it know
we are aware we come from it and to it
we will return but until then we’ll play and
trample gently upon its face making shadows
in the sun and cooing sighs in moon light.
and with permission of the Universes spirit  
we’ll gather with our friends and also let them
know that playing without shame amidst the willows
and the eyes of chippies is once again ok whether in
the Sun or in the rain like Woodstock hippies

and as I walk along that harbored place
I shall reach gently into the pocket of my soul
and pull you out so that you can sit with me
and maybe we will again make love the way
we once did. no sin shall force us to cover
our eyes as we dance shamelessly while making
shadows in the Sun and then we’ll fall asleep in
each other’s arms underneath the moon and stars
and kiss the feet of our favorite willow tree

Monday, January 20, 2014

alone in the cold



I was going to write about the wintry white,
the sage who selects and filters the snow flakes
that fall on earth only keeping those that
don’t look alike and to sing about the single
foot tracks left behind for someone to find

then I came upon the words of a poet
who wrote of fishing in the cold Canadian
ice and her grand pup learning to tough
the frigid wind and to howl.  Her incantations
speak of loving life along side trees and oceans,
walking and leaving tracks with snow angels,
for  life’s too short to complain of the cold

I listen to the tickling of piano keys and
the soft voice of Sara Bareilles’ Gravity.  
speaks of a heart once again alone
as it leans against cold sharp rocks
on a lonely beach till the stars
no longer hang onto a darken night
when replaced by the fire of day light

not today, will I write about the wintry day
and the tracks I’ve left behind to be found.
with a heart feeling the trickle of tears shed
from loneliness, braving the cold, I sit
in this dark candle lit room with pen in hand
now realizing I am not alone