As I look upon your face,
pale in the midst of bleak pain,
I think of the love in you for
this lady who walks the lane.

My heart asks, “What do you see
when your eyes this lass do follow?
What feelings flow through your body,
to make your breathing so shallow?

This hurt she inflicts on you
allows her to invade and reign,
the love you’ve stored away
for this lady who walks the lane.

A touch of her hand on yours,
the sight of tears upon her cheeks.
When another’s love she yearns,
and for his touch she does seek.

Cherishing the feel of her, fingers
running through her silk mane.
Wanting only to nourish your love
for this lady who walks the lane.



Kathleen Kohl/Levinski

The fire that burns deep,
an inferno that glows red.
Flames that burst forth,
scorching wherever they tread.

Sending out the heat
that incites passion's need.
With each embrace, every kiss,
the rage of fire must feed.

Words of love set the scene.
A single touch excites the pair.
To sear deeply within the soul,
igniting the blaze of ****** affair.

A smile that glows in the light of day,
to kindle with a hint of a heart that cares.
To glare out from a sweltering body with
glints of passions, that into an inferno flares.

To melt within the embrace of love.
Roasted by a glance so bold.
Reaching out to grasp every moment
of the illicit feelings you must behold.

Baking within the throes of ****** desires.
A body racked with trembling needs.
To set forth-thwart the rules of life-
with the spilling of loves boiling seeds.


Kathleen Kohl/Levinski

The woman, or the character?
Was I born of flesh, and bone,
or merely a figment born of a
lonely writer’s imagination.

Do I not see this woman I appear to be?
Were these eyes, with which I see
created for me within a mother’s womb, or
merely a mirror image of what you wish to see?

When I say the words “ I love you”,
is it my heart speaking, or the
emptiness of pen against paper?
Do I even possess a heart, do we?

When I cease to exist, will you feel my pain?


Kathleen M. Kohl/Levinski

From my Dark Watcher Series;

Lost in a nightmare world,
tangled in a vine of despair.
Held tightly in it's thistles,
my heart has been laid bare.

Bleeding from the sharpened thorns,
tears of sorrow, run ****** down my cheeks.
Where is this merciful God?
Relief from this pain is all I seek.

Show me the door to eternity,
that lies beneath the towering elms.
For this world holds no more peace,
and bids me enter your realm.

Ripped apart by Heavens fury,
I travel the path of dark dreams.
For the light of this soul is lost,
floating amidst life's turbulent streams.

Cast out upon the crying winds,
beat into the rustic earth.
Enfold me in the safety of your arms,
and lie me in the place of my rebirth.

Kathleen M. Kohl/Levinski

From my Dark Watcher series:

I walk within the darkness,
a soul ****** to search,
throughout eternity, lost to
the ray’s healing light.

A cold that has invaded,
and thus holds reign, over
a still heart that cries out for peace.
How is it then, that as I gaze into your eyes,
passion’s inferno burns deep.

A shimmering of warmth,
to soften Hell’s wrath?
Or a dream that refuses to fade,
into the mists of eternal darkness.

Moistness I feel, as she lays her
alabaster cheek against mine.
Is it her tears, or my own?
As I close my eyes upon the coming
of dawn, she lies within my embrace.
A forbidden love forever mourned.


Kathleen M. Kohl/Levinski

Dedicated to mother’s around the world:

Silken threads of errant dreams,
from her delicate hands flow.
Forming a trail, forever crisscrossing
gently across our feeble lives.

Touching but momentarily, yet
leaving a tender braid of steel,
with which to search out and find
another tenacious wisp of string
with the never-ending need to bond.

Every step she takes, another decision.
Trapping all in a web of mixed visions.
fantasy and reality, tightening the minds,
kneading the strength into each strand.


As tears fall from her weary eyes,
to create translucent beads of silver,
by which to light the way for future
generations, so they may grow.
Knowing of no dreams for herself,
only this, an eternity of weaving.


Kathleen M. Kohl/Levinski

From my Dark Watcher series:

Where is the color of morning?
It has left me standing within it’s shadow.
No sun’s smile, coaxing me to follow.
No longer does it wake me with its warmth,
or touch my body with its heated fingers.

White dove that once sang to me so sweetly,
Now quietly perched, dressed in gray tatters.
Has time lapsed into eternal mourning,
To lie still upon deaf ears, nothing heard,
Will it also, one-day cease to matter?

Where is the morning dew that
once kissed these dry parched lips?
Life’s replenishing moisture, that
lent color to the paleness of night.
What I would not give, but for a sip.

I once walked free amongst the flowers,
their buds opening to my caress.
Silken mounds willingly ****** forth,
to satisfy a knight’s craving hunger.
That my heart knew one, I must confess.

A sharpened thorn amongst the beauty,
its piercing sharpness cutting into flesh,
bringing forth a festering wound, death.

Where is the color of morning?
She resides in another’s arms, I’m told.


Kathleen M. Kohl/Levinski