LA Lorena
My Greedy Lover
you
you are like my greedy lover seducer of my mornings you would make me your slave! given your chance, you would selfishly keep me to yourself today ensconced in cool, tangled sheets and plumped within the confines of soft pillows enveloped in darkness embraced in your velvet warmth unabashedly undressed hair freshly tousled from dawn to dusk to satisfy your innate need to control me body and soul no words, no sounds no need for sustenance just a lover's greed you'll lick at me, teasing me softly beckoning me to join you for another go round how you tempt me! Oh Depression you'll not have your wicked way with me today Heels?
A simple elevation
not in status but in stature and in spirit they restore a long dormant sway and movement to these idle hips and rewind my mind to once again remember what it felt like to be a woman Unless of course you have a better way of reminding me |
The Home Coming Queen
she checks her face in the mirror
adjusts herself, just so her son comes home today been away at college, he has won't be long now before he'll have his own a wife and family and she'll not have his comforting presence home for the holidays bringing some friends too, he is John, such a nice young lad He'll do well, that one but that other one? She frowns.... His name escapes her the mind does that when we age cheeky monkey, that one An odd look about him and the way he's always whistling the theme song to that movie "The Graduate" Insolent, he is As if she doesn't know! One last look in the mirror to be certain she pauses looks round to be sure she'll not be seen purses her lips and blows smiling now she looks younger somehow and it's comforting to know that she still remembers how to whistle coo coo ca choo |
Poet, Exposed
Hooded nib exposed
he takes it in hand under cloak of darkness calloused, work-weary fingers curl intimately around its smooth girth he begins the ancient rhythym slow, hesitant strokes coaxing, teasing gently kneading pleading for sweet release strokes grow bolder gun-fire quick furious, angry strokes to wring forth each spilling seed retreat, pace slows as the last drips out dreamily drop by sweet drop black pearls upon the page reading his words now I can't help but wonder is it me he thinks of when he writes? Miles Away
you ask where I go
when I get that far away look in my eyes and I really have no answer to give you I just know that each time I travel another mile comes between us |
