Perhaps, perhaps my love…

Come Enjoy this romantic piece!!


Perhaps, perhaps my love

The night is long and the drink is cheap.
The music is good and the design of the night had brought her to me.

Words are shared in the dancing club. Stories are told.
She and I were willing to dance on open floor and allow the madness of song and dance
to make us believe in the ambrosia of love and hope.

She was a Texas beauty. Her eyes filled with the fire of dangerous need and want. I told her. The rainbow of hope and need is more alive when the music is good and the drink is strong. You are a soldier’s dream. Long legs, silk dress and the slow dance holding the embrace till the song is done.

She smiled and brought me closer. The feel of soft and tender body pressing closely and you whispered. The night is young and the…

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The silent sea…

Come read John’s beautiful post.


The silent sea

A Poem by Coyote Poetry


The ocean, memories and old dreams.


                         The silent sea

We can be humble by true beauty.
Life can weaved us to places and situations.
Blushing beauty can besiege our heart.

Heaven and hell is at our finger tips.

Sweet girl wearing her red dress,

dancing with the beat of the music.
Her short skirt moving with the music allowing the vision of her  garter belt
and beautiful legs to be seen by me.

We can drink and sink into sorrow or ascent into the exquisite of true beauty.
I watch the girl wearing her silk dress and a chain of pearls.

I fall into perfume dreams. Guiltless thoughts of her in her night dress.
The night dress falling to the ground and her falling into my arms.

Sweet Beatrice came to me.
Told me I promised her walk on the bay.

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What did you Gain?

Confab With Me

And what did you gain by selling your soul, a few transient moments of happiness to show to an ostensible world

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

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Red Line – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon


dVerse Poets – Poetics – Seeing Red

Sarah at dVerse has invited us to write a poem about the colour red.



“If you accept the expectations of others, especially negative ones, then you will never change the outcome.”  Michael Jordan

Red Line

She wasn’t sure why
red had always unsettled her
in ways she couldn’t quite speak,
though she knew an answer
lurked deep within,
she put the book down
and occupied the window,
distracted, sighing,
trying to locate her feelings
which the red line had evoked,
a teacherly line,
forbidding, shaming,
a smallness crept in,
she felt it in her skin,
exposed to the world again.
A bird lighted on the sill,
now engrossed,
she left red
for another day.

©Paul Vincent Cannon


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