A naked woman..

Don’t Miss The Praises of Women!!

johncoyote

  A  naked woman

          (A wise artist once said. To see a nude woman is more wonderful then
           1000 beautiful paintings in a museum.)

I tell the young men.
Go slow and easy.
When your eyes and heart is young.
The sweet memories will be  written on the walls of your heart.

 
When a woman allow you into the safety of her arms and emotion.
Allow your eyes to wander over her nude body.

 
The kindest gift is when a woman allowed  you to caress and touch the mysteries and secret passions of her heart and soul.

 
Never turn your eyes away.

 
 
Sixty two years of life and a million journeys.

 
How many opportunities to see the gift of tender flesh?
To be able to caress  legs moving with each touch?
Feel  the warmth of soft  breasts against your…

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My Winter love…

Don’t miss this love poem!

johncoyote

A Poem by Coyote Poetry
Cold days seem to bring people closer.

(Written somewhere in the early eighties.)

My winter love.

I whispered your sweet name.
My sweet dreams bring your beautiful face to my memory.

I dreamed of our blissful nights.

Kiss after sweet kiss.
Leading us to the paradise of the innocence.
Opening a passion that grew with each tender touch.

My Winter love.
You came to me on a cold December day.
You brought me into a raging torrent my siren.

We tried to burn away the passion.
Desperate to satisfy the desire of the flesh.
That can’t be fulfilled.

My desire increased with each dance.
In the fire of emotion and sexual battle.

I hear a soft knock at my door.
I open the door.

My beauty.
My blue eye angel with six wine coolers.
Wrapped  her arms around me.

Sweet kisses and…

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Where In This World Do You Find Good Sleep?

Frank Solanki

Is it in a full tummy
After knowing what hunger is like?
Or is it in a carefree head
Post battling an anxiety strike?
Is it in a rich man’s pocket
That has overcome all hardships
Or is it in a bloodied nose
That has won a championship?
Is it in a wise mouth
Restrained from all evil and vile?
Or is it in a helping hand
That lends someone a smile
Is it in the innocent?
Is it in someone who is true?
Is it in the righteous?
Oh tell me, is it in you?

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Breathless

Charmed Chaos

“I’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas: they’ve gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind.”―Emily Brontë,Wuthering Heights

In these dreams, I write in colors I’ve always known
for in my very breath flows shades of indigo
that at times catch, leaving me breathless
searching, always searching for more.

Born in fall’s waiting air, trees dressed in leaves
of scarlet and gamboge I entered the world
with barely a cry, such a solemn child
searching, searching for an eternal home.

And in her sweet eyes I peered,
seeing my own odd reflection
naught but a new helpless babe
with a shock of burnished red-golden
fine hair, nary a thought or care
of how I came to be there,
drowning in her indigo eyes
searching for home nevermore.

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With inspiration I

Jemverse

Poems daily, inspiration
there is always something there
the trick is spotting where it is
being constantly aware

And some days I will miss it
even though it’s in plain sight
the gift there to all poets
as they daily come to write

But mostly as you’ll see today
by some kind invitation
from a little slice of life
I’ve found my inspiration

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

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Name

A Faded Romantic's Notebook

Before I knew you

your name

was just

another name.

Now

when I see it

or hear it

or read it

or write it

I cannot help

but catch

my breath.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by William Oxer

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She’s Not A Lady

House of Heart

Winter does not empathize
with withered branches or
displaced birds fleeing waves
of frozen breath
Her howling wind is a laugh out loud
and she hasn’t the grace to cover her mouth.
A tease of holly and evergreen flicker
at the curve of her billowed boughs
glistening folds and hallowed mounds
drift in other worldly sighs
ensnared by her exquisite binds.

art by Karol Bak

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Travelling In The Wilderness – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

parallax

At dVerse, Sarah is hosting Poetics and has asked us to choose one of her selected titles for a poem.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Travels in the Wild

Photo: Eyre Highway, a side trail.

“The wilderness holds answers to more questions than we have yet learned to ask.” Nancy Newhall

Travelling In The Wilderness 

I transcended my compass,
feeling my way through the travail
of twixt and twain, learning not to 
hold my breath as the trail became
uncertain of itself as it meandered 
through the scenes and acts of my
stage as a collect of vagaries, testimony
to an amorphous life melded with 
lace wings and stringy-bark, and all
manner of slivery, silent coves as
irruption of mind in a mindless world
of discontinued annals, such is the way
of this wilderness road of discovery.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Dusk

Roth Poetry

It was such a beautiful evening, after a very chilly day. I stood on the rise in my back yard looking across into the woods and thought how inspiring the woods becomes at dusk. As the light played on the trees, changes occured right before my eyes. The following poem shares some of my thoughts and feelings.

Dusk… blushes every tall tree with the sun’s glow

Cold December air gently caresses my face

as I stand staring into the darkening woods

Nothing stirs

Birds twitter… huddling together in the cedars

Rabbits burrow down under the blackberry bushes

on a cozy bed of brown leaves

Golden shades turn to gray… then black

the sky dims

Dusk in the woods can be a spiritual experience

As all of God’s creation rests in quiet slumber

************

I took this photo with my iPhone this evening, after taking a walk on the gas line…

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Poetry: Day 399

notnotnerdygirl

some songs play like headaches
they are memories
things i want to forget
days i hope to un-live
each word
each lyric
each melody
grates on the thoughts in my head

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