It has proven its point.
The barrier between you and I.
While the ceramic tile presses
against my feet.  In a distance,
there the plastic siding hugs
the brick foundation. As shrubbery
is not yet green nor my pockets.
Inside, the heat sweats the yellow
stained-sheet rock. Into the pit
of my stomach, causing a burning
sensation. This is a four by four.
As my legs walk around in a circle.
I think... Where found,  wood chippings
and bread crumbs that hover over
a Persian rug. The pattern of sunflowers.
Like the ones on out-dated place mats.
And I sat, rubbing away the goo from
underneath each one. While the air
thickened, regal like a stiff neck. I wait
for a sign to say when. Most of the cheap
clothing has been packed. They are ready
to move. They are dancing. Across the floor
of sunflower dreams.

Can you love me
through the best
and worst of times?
They will come.
For sure

Is that a definite
with me?

To remain loyal,
To be there when
I'm moody, the weather
is bad, and the world
gone mad.

Can you love me
through the best and
worst of time?

To remain faithful even
if we stumble upon,
you won't run dumb,
afraid of our outcome,
worried we'll come undone.

But, remain strong for us.
Is that a definite?

I need to know because,
I'm the kind of woman
with a strong back,
pick up your slack,
you best believe it.
Feel that uh...

However, an indecisive
feeble minded, wobbly
type man,  can't withstand
the test of times.

So I'm giving you a choice.
It's not hard to answer.
It's either yes or no.
Can you love me through
the best and worst of times?
And remain loving....

I wonder, by my truth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved; were we not weaned till then,
But ****** on country pleasures, childishly?
Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den?
'Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be.
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.

And now good morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear;
For love, all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room, an everywhere.
Let sead discoveries to new worlds have gone,
Let maps to others, worlds on worlds have shown,
Let us possess our world; each hath one and is one.

Can we share comforting solitude.
Under my uncle's shed.
I like to go there when it rains.
To hear the drizzle upon a tin roof.

There, I have been in slumber.
But, if you sit with me, I would
have more to offer.
Now , I hold a hat made of woven fabric.
That hovers the chilly days and nights.

But, warmth would reside without
furnace or fireplace heating.
When your skin has brushed my skin
igniting beautiful wildfires into my soul.

Although the day is sunny, birds seem
to fly back home.
In restless solitude I pine beside the pecan tree.
The tree is now bare for season is changing.
Today, flopped among a small patch of grass
I imagine you beside me.

I hear the rustling in the woods where a worn walk
has been made into a muddy pathway.
As I close my eyes, the warmth of your breath
brings me out of boredom. Then I don't feel alone.
I grin, laugh a little each time.
Until the path is clear and your face disappears.

Our lips bond together.
On a limb, but I reach out
for the desire to press my
my tongue against yours.
To feel the suction of you,
******* me in ever so close.

I've slightly fallen

We do the tango, twisting
around, turning me upside
down till I feel dizzy.
And juices leak from each
crease of our mouths.
So sweet, my ears heard a
love song that was unsung.

I've slightly fallen

In his seduction , succulent, ******
pleasures which quench my thirst.
I got a Jones. Both of them attracting
at will. The steam from fevered bones.

While my heart and mind plays
the fiddle. Still we sip as he
****** himself gently, palming my
parts as if they were gems in
his hand.

I've slightly fallen

Like a three pierced tongue ring,
our liquids spill over my lips, cheeks
and chin. To taste him I am confident.
For him I flow as his lady in reassurance.

I've slightly fallen

I'm swimming within this man's wine.
But, if I should drown myself
among his deletable kisses;
there is unharmed because
his love is my ocean.

I have slightly fallen into...

By Jessica Hughes aka JH_Poetry

Little Susie was eager to go to the toy store.
Her mother was buying her the newest doll
“Charming Cherry”. She had to have one.
All of her friends had one. She was already
dressed in mixed match clothing. Proudly,
shaking her mother, modeling her new look.
However, mother was tired and scolded
Little Susie for awakening her so early in
the morning. Oh, Susie was so anxious
as she went in and out of the house, irritating
the neighbors with her frequent hellos and goodbyes.
Finally, her mother was ready. Susie was to eager
to eat breakfast. “Let's go mother, someone may
buy them all up.” Hurry... As they arrived at
the toy store,  she nicely asked the clerk, “where are
the Charming Cherry dolls?” She raced down aisle
number five. Her mother so tired from working
the graveyard shift could barely keep pace.
Susie big brown eyes, looked fearlessly as a
hunter stalking its prey. She looked and looked until
her eagerness started to fade. “Where are they, she
asked her mother?” Her mother went and got a
stock boy to help look for the doll. It appeared to
be sold out. Susie couldn't believe it. Now what
was she going to show her best friend Barbie.
Her emotions ran along side her flushed red face.
She was very upset , to the point she went into a tantrum.
Susie began knocking other dolls off the shelves.
She reached high as her short legs could to do damage.
Not much considering her fist was about as big as a  
golf ball. However, she hit hard enough to cause a
seen in the store. She and her mother were politely
asked to leave. When Susie got home, her mother
threatened to punish her by not allowing any play time.
Susie slammed the room door, kicking the walls, leaving
shoe prints. Screaming, it's all your fault repeatedly.!
All of a sudden , she took the Raggedy Ann doll and
beat it until the seams started to loose. She beat the doll
against her dresser, walls, even stomped on it.
As the poor, innocent Raggedy Ann laid on the bed; the
stuffing coming out from around her head. Susie, screamed
one more time, “ it's all your fault!” When her mother
entered the room, she found Susie in the corner just staring.
“The manager said a new shipment of Charming Cherry
will be in tomorrow.”  “You see, never give up my Little Susie.”
(I'm sorry Raggedy Ann)

The sound of the toaster; the brewing of coffee hits our nostrils.
The smell was familiar as yesterday.
We turn on the big screen, hearing the news we've heard before.
I tell him I'm going to shower; he replies and follows his pattern.
Checking behind ourselves as if a surprise is somewhere...
I pick up my mahogany folder; he grabs his tool box.
Opening the blinds, only the sunshine will enjoy the day.
We kiss each other good bye.
Off we go, driving north and the other south.
I turn on the radio listening to the same song.  
That's unusual.... not really!  I'll hear it again this evening.

As I commute, a strange feeling held me.
This feeling I tried to ignore.
However, I've been branded as a cow among the masses.
I think to myself, when will the boredom end?
For change comes in a season, but still, it remains the same.
And I wondered does he feel this suicide as well?
Together we are losing a little life each second.
The coldness I could perceive as I twisted the lock on the door.
It welcomes me home with a cackle.
I wash my hands and prepare dinner.
He walks in and picks up the newspaper.
I ask, "how was your day?"
He responds, "Oh, nothing out of the ordinary."
I sigh...I sigh...

O' lovely night, serene and crisp
Follow the moon full to its lead
Hear the wolves howl for him
The acute wanders in my heart

Send him urgency before I change
From the shreds of breathless borrowed
Shall he grace me gorgeous
His flower of precious burnings

O' lovely night, the stars sparkle brighter
It bellows our song betwixt lyrics spring
As dewy ears repose to a beckoning bloom
There the chanting of soprano whispers

As our sound bound us found
As our sound be loose forever
As we high pitch in desire always

Captain of my heart, the sea rolls
as the sand sifts through the glass.
It cease, yet sustains to stay afloat
as we are back and forth. We tug,
pull, and push our energies into being.
I pierce deep into the hourglass, but
not a crack in view. Our sands flow as
the waves; the rushing rivers.  In my
longing I await for your capture. Mount
my body as the ship on the mantle.
Love is yielding ,yet unyielding when
strong. When the storm rages for days
so long.

My dearest captain; do steer,
sail, float among my shore. Drop your
anchor that has made you idle in time
without the passion of mine. Together
we shall soar high, sail smoothly if
captured in love's net. I do the honors of
the hooked fish. Do search for me? Taste
my love when found. And you shall loose
yourself unto my capture; there releasing
the hold on our time. For it is of the essence,
swiftly moving silently under our breath.

I hold my position until a  yea or nah beckons...
There we shall meet our passion as a spark
sprung among the blazes. As you temp me
to loose myself unto your summon. I shall...
For true love is held captive in the heart.
It holds its own, so tenderly kind. You see my
Captain darling, at any given moment; I shall
set you free. If this, you wish for us.

Therefore, our love shall not be in capsule anymore
to river. The glass will shatter; releasing the sands
to be dispersed on earth. Who can find one particle?
You shall be free. However, I shall await for the winds
to stir us together. Then can we capture once more
our sands of love in the hourglass of time. Then we
shall fill it up and over. Our  love full of capacity,
unwavering, and steady as you and I.

By Jessica Hughes aka JHpoetry
All Rights Reserved By Author  ©2009-2010  

for more of my work, visit my web if you like
http://simplebutdeep.webs.com

Ordinary she said, the plain Jane of feminine.
I'll gladly take up with her.
There should not be a shimmer around my
crown. Nor lashes that drive men to wild.
There is not but one side for a woman of
my caliber to parade. Look at me over here.
Like you did yesterday, before I traded in
heels for flats, short skirts for long ankle dresses.
You will dream of a different woman.
She is the new era. Where the girls love
themselves willing as silverware.
I am passion in a bottle. The mistress naught ******.
As mirrors are satiated in secret praise.
My wishes are smoked out by the steam.
They fade deep into you.
Your sparkling compromise in mediocre view.

My resolution an obvious solution
To a problem of unsolved logic
I curse as a lady sailor
All day and half of the next.

Like a bad child whipped
I go punished as a spoiled brat
pouting for it to crumble like cake
But as this year, the same as the last.

Hard headed as the hat of workers
The kink waves as incoming oceans
I should kiss it goodbye
To the promise I never kept.

Ranting as loud as the radio
Skilled as an actress in character
And agents clean filth
As sudsy bubbles flutter about

But the reasoning within my head
Is the lye in a bar of soap

The smell of its fragrance
can brighten a day.

The beauty it beholds one
should never betray.

To seek and find seems if
one has found gold.

Knowing this precious flower
will soon grow old

Capture the moment
Make it timeless

For in the darkest hours,
the color shall fade.

The special scent becomes vague.
The face of glory vanquished once portrayed.

Tossed astray whence unforgettable
The beauty of thee impeached from a pedestal.

Crushed as if never exquisite...
Trashed among ruins to exhibit...

A rose is simply a rose.
Why do you claim such beauty?
I suppose...

There was a stream of crystal gleam.
He sang the purest song to me.
I often pondered the scenery.
How true could the imagination really be?

I saw us both entwined in a shawl.
There was a special place for a girl and boy.
The chill from the creek sent others Bon voy...
He played the sweetest tune from his toy.

And_

Love kept us warm.
He gave me kisses as he hummed.
The sun hid as if it would storm.
We lounged and watched nature change its form.

There was a stream of crystal gleam.
He sang the purest song to me.
I often pondered the scenery.
How true could the imagination really be?


By Jessica Hughes

The older I become;
I find darkness surrounds
to cool my soul. That sensation
of the warming heat...
It is bright, yes it is...
bright , yellow, lovely, sun...
Yet, it scorches darkness deep
to the piercing of my core.
When one attracts the other.
There is but disbelief.
The circus tricks of an atmosphere.
And all I have is shaky faith.
The power to walk neck up.
The will to run through the storm.
There,  it leaves a misty void.
As I move closer and hold my stand.
It is bright, yes it is..
bright, yellow, lovely, sun...
but I am cool from the moon sensation
I can withstand the burn.

I shall not sing a May song.
A May song should be gay.
I'll wait until November
And sing a song of gray.

I'll wait until November
That is the time for me.
I'll go out in the frosty dark
And sing most terribly.

And all the little people
Will stare at me and say,
"That is the Crazy Woman
Who would not sing in May."


Anonymous submission.
Gwendolyn Brooks

I stood in the freezing cold.
And the rain felt like snowballs.
On a side bench under neon lights, I sat.
With a blue circle surrounding my eye,
when somebody almost knocked my
lights out. Just staring at those who
gawked at me. As I smoked under a
store roof top. This is when I saw you.
You walked on by. To my surprise,
You were as handsome as ever.
"Life must be treating him well."
There was a provoking sound out of
the gaping sky to jump in front of a
bus. You would pay attention.
Maybe stop to see me lying there.
I'm not okay as my quivery voice
claimed. But, you didn't detect the
disturbing echos in the background.
So I hung up the phone.
I, the old worn out dish rag.
I, the door mat to most people.
Still, I thought you would have an
instant flashback. A relapse of our
long history together. Instead,
here I stand in the freezing rain.
And you can't even remember my name.
It's Ada... I uttered. The lighter burning
my fingertips. The expression on your
face. It told our story. I kept walking
through the foggy night.

I am mesmerized by you.  
As days turn to months and months to years.
Your persistent love for me and I for you follows.  
A friendship turned into love that sparked a passion from a flame.
It burns eternal in my dwellings.
I have no crown; you placed laurels upon my head,
crowning you the muse of me.
The goddesses of Zeus worked magic within
my mind, and zapped my fingers with a magic wand.
The rivers have flowed ever since.
I am obsessed in your everlasting springtime.  
This is a beautiful crazy if any one behold thee.
We compliment each other.
We know our thoughts, and how to  
create the perfect work of us.
I ponder a contemplation  if I ever loss your precious gift.
Time would be a waste.
A meaningless mirage of existence.
My meditation is focused on our love, passion and obsession.  
Forever we shall be entwined as lovers in rhapsody.
The muse of me.

JHpoetry

Where is her joy? The flirtation of moonlit fire flies.
Yet, she sees strained blurs as love pulls away.
As Cupid shoots his arrow missing her mark.
Now left to be of the scarlet letter A.
The mark of the vexed woman so innocent.
Until she screams for release of chained pains.
But do you know her_ Joy,  the beautiful inclination
of ballerinas that dance in silhouettes.
Or maybe she misplaced her purse?
For fear Joy could have been stolen by Robin Hood!
And she begs for the doors to open, her  head
towards the holy alter.
And she kisses the feet of saints asking for
the forgiveness of sins unknown.
As her fingers sprinkle the piano keys.
Then maybe it will hear her music.
The resonating sound of woe.
Will it brave the sanctuary?
It is a good place. They say__
It shall swiftly awake her nightmares.
Tell her the beautiful side of the story and
then walk off as if only a dream.
Her joy is but a tempted imagination, she has
yet to master.
Did it not target practice her heart.
Because this is what life is made of. Joy!
And no one said, you shall not have it.
So maybe she is not living?