I will be in La Jolla

Today  I threw wide

those carved doors that hold

so many souvenirs.

The scent of sandal wood

filled the air and I thought

of you.

By tonight I will be in La Jolla

that  marvel of constellations,

the air as salty as sea lions.

Nostalgia is  taboo among the

honey cake dunes.

Maybe I will stay there  forever

paint everything that flickers

and blooms.

I may not think of you at all.

 

 

 

 

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a different kind of love

Sometimes I see myself through

your eyes,   my pale  face so in  love,

aching  for  the caress of that

flaxen haired boy racing

through rolling wheat fields.

Suddenly serious your adventurous

eyes sent shivers through  me.

I longed for your touch anytime and

we kissed open mouthed without

permission.

I adored your mock anger when

chasing after me and  the awkward

way you looked down at your hands.

Soon Autumn threw its shadow on

sprouting wheat,  smooth and wet.

From the half closed door I hear the

whisper of your breathing and know

there are different kinds of love,

wild ,    ruthless,  and  unafraid.

 

art by Rob Hefferan

 

 

 

 

 

What are we doing?

Rethinking Life

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I will always love you and me

Beautiful poetry from Maxima, comments closed here. Please see the original.

Maxima

Written: Maxima

 

I will always love you and me

When our eyes meet,
we exchange fire.
How can you know how
high that fire grows from
so far away?
To touch one strand of
your hair, hold you for one
night, I haven’t’ the words
to tell you of my thoughts
and hopes.
My guitar knows the words
listen to my sound that says
I will always love you and me
I love everything you are.

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Night Music

The pale window

The sun is still low in the sky,

it’s rays have barely begun

to pierce the chill of our pale window.

Don’t go,  we are scarcely out of dreaming.

Caress my breast with the lifeline of your palm

while my head rests in the crook of your shoulder.

With these  fingertips you kiss one by one

I will ease the furrow of your brow and

soothe your body with the twining of my own.

Let the hours pass  through us tenderly

like a shallow river of fledgling reeds.

 

Steve hanks art

 

warriors

I offer the Nape of my neck

to the caress of your  blade.

Press  your lips to the arch

of my throat where melodic

songbirds plunge to their death.

Bring  your gallows and knives,

your sword at the ready.

I will  pierce you with serene eyes

as deeply as love will allow.

You Can Tell Me

Tell me how you pass the hours.

That slanted smile,

does it hide shackles of pride

(I have mine too).

You are my obsession,

undulating sensations that

can’t be restrained.

What I know of you

I have learned  through osmosis,

the taste of ozone, like breathing air.

In worldly dreams I am wearing leather

waiting for you in a Parisian cafe.

Is there shame in what we  are compelled to do?  tell me

 

 

art by Michael Garmash

waiting to inhale

House of Heart

Confined to that  labyrinth,

those translucent limbs wore her down.

She dreamed of honey and coconut milk,

of transparent lids  and fingertips

sucked into fragile rose-bud lips.

Captive in those barriers,

imprisoned in shifting walls,

falling through  nautical twilight

hope cast its shadow on  her.

Happy Mother’s Day

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i need a mission

I need  an oasis

a still life where I am fixed

my hair snared  in cattails

that smell of the sea.

Drooping  moon flowers

awakening at night glistening with

abalone and  the incoming tide.

I need a crimson sky, the rising red sun

binding my horizon refusing to fade.

 

art borrowed from google