Beautiful nails all shiny and pink.
Delicate skin, soft and smooth.
These hands of gentle grace longing for the curve of a muscle.
The tender finger tip lightly tracing the edge of a masculine line,
as though the finger were the tip of her tongue.
A gentle tease of delight for both.
The feminine softness of a supple palm
pressed against the firmness of an urgent need
transmits desire from one to the other and back again.
The sense of touch;
A marvelous gift designed exquisitely
for sensual sharing.
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 4:51 PM UTC
A long day of running errands, looking here and there for things you think you need. It’s tiring to hobble around going slowly pretending you are looking but you are really resting.
The body gives out far too easily. Not giving a care that the mind still thinks you are 30 something or even younger. Back when that was true, 56 was old. Not anymore. Perspectives change as life does. I guess it is suppose to be that way.
Now more than when I was younger I have time to notice things like the odd colour of the atmosphere. It isn’t just the sky, it’s all the air around too. It’s a golden closeness, not just what is above the trees. Everything seems to glow with a richness. A cluster of leaves glows. The green grass, a plush carpet. And the sky! The sky is the colour of butterscotch pudding. Rich, deep, warm, sweet, slowly flowing. All those things have nothing to do with colour really but yet the sky is that colour. The sense of sight awakes al the others.
The mind is an amazing thing, allowing you to form and feel even when there is nothing there but air. Being human is a remarkable opportunity.
Connie Buchan
August 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
We take it for granted,
Our youth, our health, our freedom to live as we wish.
And then we start to age.
Our health gives way to a more bitter dish.
I guess we should be thankful
For the many good years we’ve already had,
Living our life
The way we wanted. It’s sad.
Sad to think this is it.
I still feel young and am young, really.
Now there are limits.
How I wish I still could live my life freely
August 17, 2014
Connie Buchan
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 7:37 PM UTC
My ankles are swollen now thanks to you buggers.
I didn’t even do anything but you satisfied your hungers.
We are sitting enjoying a glorious day
And in you buzz, determined to have your own way.
You hide your nests gradually making them bigger
And then their where abouts it’s our job to figure.
You can ruin a picnic or a leisurely walk
And drive a hiker to jump off a dock.
Under the water is a place you won’t go,
But we are air-breathers and this fact you know.
Cleaning up carrion and devouring our pests
But why come after me while I’m having my rests?
You’re nasty, Mr. Wasp; you and your stinger.
I hate you. I fear you. You’re a real hum-dinger!
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 1:39 PM UTC
She loved her children and theirs and theirs,
Quick to comfort woes and troubled cares.
Many years a devoted wife
Sharing with Walter, a bless-ed life.
Her Faith was strong and pure of heart.
She had Living Praise down to an art.
Cards were a passion and she often won
But never gloated if a trick, you’d none.
Family time was her greatest joy
And she passed that on to every girl and boy.
If you listened carefully you’d hear her wit
And with “Oh Walter!” make him quit.
A loving grandma, wife and mother,
Erna was truly like no other.
Her love of God was often proven
And now her reward waits her in Heaven.
Rest dear soul, your time has come.
A life well lived, a job well done.
~ Connie Buchan, May 9, 2014
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 11:25 PM UTC
When I grow old and weak of eye
I want you there right by my side.
Your gentle nudge, a comfort then
To see me through, right to the end.
Your fuzzy coat, now grey with age
For me to touch in this final stage.
To know the comfort of your loving heart,
Given to me right from the start.
A more loyal friend I’ve not found yet.
You’re dear and special, my cherished pet.
May 3, 2014
Connie Buchan
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 12:14 PM UTC
A Naked Write I write today
Open and free, 'tis my way.
To pen what comes without a thought
And let it grow, love it or not.
I often write this way, unfettered.
A later look would have verse bettered.
But the cleansing way it makes me feel
Is the starting point from which I heal.
So today this poem is laid out bare
And I begin the day without a care.
Free to open and let air in
That is where I choose to begin.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC
Warming sun
Ending cold
Sunlight shines
Winter's old.
Yeah SPRING!!!!
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 3:47 PM UTC
Today is a day that begins another week.
Some think of it as a day that ends one instead.
Sunday is many things to the strong and the meek
But for me it is a day to linger in bed.
This write isn’t going to be of great tempo.
Not all are but to me the best should be.
Today my brain feels the size of a gecko,
And that isn’t like the regular me.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
There are days
When we find ways
To keep ourselves tucked in.
Shut in our homes
Like hermit gnomes,
Away from friends and kin.
There is no fear
Hiding here
We just want our own time and space.
Just leave us be
And again you’ll see
We’ll be back to your public place.
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 11:32 AM UTC