serenaded by the breeze
season's came
then went the trees still there

The way you kiss me
Reveals to me the kind
of person you are
Don't just jab it in
Be soft and slow and sweet
Use a little less tongue at first
Tease me then bring on the heat
Let me set the pace
Then you follow my lead
Slow it down this is not a race
Taste me ~ Savor me
Marinade me in your mind
Think of me until we meet next time
We can keep it going trying
as many times as we can
if it's not right change it up
And just start again :)

O indiginous tuber to Peru,
Now in nations' daily stews,
From the Polar South to Timbuktu,
Ranked with rice, wheat and maize,
Oh staple potatoe
You grace our table.

We plant seed spuds,
Red, yellow or brown,
Harvest the new ones,
The remainder mound
To thrive in leisure,
As buried treasure.

Heel the spud *****,
Unearth your trove,
A gatherer's surprise
To woo true love.

We slice, dice and mash,
Roast, deep-fry and bake.
It's not an egg,
It'll never break.

     Medium-rare, please.
     And make mine a baked.
     Oh, and don't forget the butter,
     Oh, and sour-cream, just in case.”

It hasn't got *** appeal,
What you see is true,
But make no mistake,
I swear by what's holy in taste,
It only has eyes for you.

Pharmaceutically,
It soothes,
Burns, itches, puffy eyes,
Migraines and headaches.

Make a stamp,
Make silver shine,
Clean your windows with its brine.
And potatoe muffins are simply divine.

When blight strikes,
When crops don't thrive,
Many starve,
Many have died.

So, I raise this toast
To the lofty Tuber,
And I dedicate this Ode,
To the one,
The only:
*Mr. Potatoe,
This bud's for you.

Absent is a hole left waiting
Absence is my heart still aching
Absconded with my wildest dreams
Abstracted from my darkest schemes
Abscess hewn by surgeon’s knife
Abstaining is a way of life
Absolution I must suspend
Absinthe now my only friend

Don't worry,

I've been here before,

lying in canopies
of 'where'd you go' and
'what have I done?"

I'm not immune to love-fall
or love-hope
   or even the fall-out -

and there's no
modesty to my
afflictions

don't worry,
I've been here before
and I'm not willing
   to
     wait
       in
          hesitation.

After Epiphany 1

Epiphany is the door into winter
Into those bleak, grey days, into the cold
When time itself is huddled in the dark
Asleep, suspended in the drifting mist

In clouds of icy mist among the trees
Above the somnolent, shivering earth
The brief, pale sun in silence disappears
The moon in silence rises high to watch  

Over a world asleep until far spring
Epiphany is the door into winter

I dreamed I was
covered in salt
  from the sweat that
it took to
pull you to the
finish line:

where I saw strangers
& wildflowers
and anger
and laughter
and street lights
bathing
happily ever-afters

where I saw sadness
& take-backs
and widows
and crime
and remembered
it's been
just 2 years since you
died.

I start to dance to my beloved song.
I won't lose the rythm. My heart beats along
And shouting allong is my only wish choice.
I give a **** that it's night and I've got no voice.
Cause there is a meaningful duty
To the lyrics hiden inside.
To show feelings and their  beauty
To those unawaere and blind.