Your kiss
succulent aphrodisiac
mesmerizing drug
power leaving me
weightless with desire
heady with euphoric titillation
winding my body
around your intoxication
needing one more hit
*
©MidwestFantasy
May 2019
Day: May 14, 2019
Hiding shortcomings
Sometimes we hide our shortcomings
In fear one could discover
How we really are…
DidiArtist, 06.07.2018
Wrinkle For A Lifetime – Afflatus
The words were spoken in rage, Maybe it didn’t mean harm, Yet it left behind some wrinkles for a lifetime //pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js (adsbygoogle = wind…
The tragedy of Being Human
Responding to the prompt, The Tragedy of Being Human, given by Manic Sylph Mona. Mona is an amazing poet. If you haven’t visited her blog, please do so you won’t regret
The tragedy of being human
are we are often drenched
in the sea of emotions,
chasing shadows,
embracing deceit
and still, carry the charm
to shed a tear
blaming it on this thing called life
Copyright © Shantanu Baruah
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Shantanu Baruah, ckonfab.com, and afflatuz.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content
This Moment And I – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
Photo: istockphoto.com
This Moment And I
If I take this last drink
it will be finished
and yet I delay
stalling my next move,
if my drink is unfinished
so is this moment
and I.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
Somewhere
Someone, somewhere, loves you. Mountains obscure failing eyes. Seas in deadly tempests render screams meaningless. Vultures seek to pounce on our tired, aching bodies. Deserts strand us, and dust storms leave us lost in a swirling graveyard. Yet amidst the demonic slaughter, I can hear your heartbeat. Troubled thoughts and trembling eyes cannot shut me out from you, and I can find you. I will find you.
I love you. We don’t understand each other all the time. Maybe we’re not supposed to. Maybe these rough patches are a reminder that, surprise, we’re both human. But, even in the chaos. The murder. The mysteries. The pain. The broken hearts. We can still rustle up next to each other and listen. Listen to our souls. And be reminded that the sun will come out tomorrow.
Book of Me
Please come and enjoy – Book Me
You read between my curves
along lines soft and feminine
turn pages of me over and over
as if you’ll see something new
you missed before
you find deep meaning
under the surface of my skin
delve into chapters
I have shown no one
Book of Me
open and ready for you
*
©MidwestFantasy
May 2019
Ph-Pinterest
Daily Haiku – Sun. May 12, 2019 – Poetry For Healing
Morning symphony of birdsong breaking the dawn’s dreamlike quietness
Source: Daily Haiku – Sun. May 12, 2019 – Poetry For Healing
All or nothing
For the past few weeks I have been looking for outdoor subjects to paint, but it’s been a bit of a wasteland of grey days, bare trees and yellowed grass.
And then all of a sudden, there’s too much choice. Tiny buds are opening on trees, the grass is green, and today I drove by the market and was thrilled to see all the hanging plants on display. It made me realize how starved for colour I am. The red and yellows on my palette are getting some attention again, and before you know it the boats will be in the water too. Seems like the start of summer sketching is finally here.
Poetry
A response poem to Davy D’s question What Is Poetry? on the Go Dog Go Cafe
it is a stir
an ache
rising from my core
growing in urgency
pushing to my surface
gasping hungrily for air
sitting impatiently on my tongue
black pearl
ruby
tear-shaped diamond
waiting
for hand to grasp pen
fingers to touch keys
truth to be unleashed
an explosion of my soul
made visible
in black ink
© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved
The Reluctant Poet 