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Cné Dec 2017
“T'was the night before Christmas ...”
and Santa was busy.
The reindeer were antsy
the elves in a tizzy.

The missus was tending
the ovens like mad
And turning out cookies
to make children glad.

The wood chips were flying
the sawdust was thick
The workshop was bulging
with toys from St. Nick.

Contractors from Sega,
Nintendo and Sony
Were working on games
(and a robotic pony).

Iphones and Ipads
(with virus removal)
Were packed in their boxes
and stamped "Elf Approval".

Last minute touches
were added with flair
While elf stylists tended
to Santa's white hair.

Elf tailors were making
some last alterations
To Santa's red coat
and his waist tribulations.

The weather was fair
as the weather-elf stated
The routes were approved
and departure was slated.

Bells had been polished
and harnesses buffed
While repairs were addressed
for the hoofs that were scuffed.

The antlers were festooned
with ribbons and bells
And the reindeer were covered
with elf flying spells.

The clock approached
midnight as Santa was seated.
The countdown began
as the flight crew was greeted.

H-hour neared
and the tension was growing.
Outside it grew cloudy
and then, began snowing.

But Santa just grinned
as the weather-elf winced.
"Don't worry, my friend.  
Our time has commenced."

For the weather was nothing
to Santa's conveyance.
His reindeer and sleigh
were immune to"delay-ance".

With a whirl of his whiskers
and a flick of his wrist
The reindeer were launched
in a flash of white mist.

And I heard him exclaim
through his teleport ray:
"ALERT TSA. Tell 'em
I'm on my WAY!"
Cné Dec 2017
From below
Desire climbs
Up the channels
Of my mind
Shot of whiskey
Glass of wine
Now the ladies
Are looking fine
From the top
Going down
Love strikes fast
When I'm around

From within
My idle mind
Sparks a flame
Of desire design
A shot of whiskey
A glass of wine
Now all the men
Are lookin fine
A little flirt
A little smile
I think I’ll stay
A little while
....

Traveler Tim
& Cné
Cné Dec 2017
~
O Painter
with thy own eye
                        would thee
paint me in mine own natural hue
prithee paint me as i am,
imperfections
            and blemishes true

Load thy brush
                      with colors sundry
to maketh yond first pure sweep
across the ****** frieze,
fill'd with pangs of hunger.
paint me as i standeth
                  bethought, in deep

With mine own love and mine own desire,
blurring the edges unclean
with mine own regrets
                  and mine own mental gyre,
in mine own natural age,
               of deep forest green

O Painter
Paint me sinister turquoise,
in lavender and maroon,
combine the amethyst and amber
blend the iceberg
       and the indigo moon.

Paint me as i standeth,
       prithee see with thy eye
a mistress in yond lady plight
Prithee paint me all i am
i cullionly
a mistress in all yond lady might

Paint me in the optimistic
                             silv'r of dawn,
but don’t miss the purple
to shade the bruise
                              of the bygone.
paint me in the sky blue journal

O Painter
Paint me as a unique template
smudge black white and grizzled
merging all the colors of thy palette.
col'r me a rainbow
                            in a rainy drizzle

Paint me tall so yond i standeth
loftier than any mountain
Paint me as a dram bird, delicate
with soft feathers silken

Paint me harmony, as a violin
so yond i can sing thy solitary tune
paint me as thy poetry
         with song and melody
wrapp'd in a cocoon

O Painter
paint me as a dream yond rises
                               in did saturate colors
with a steady upbeat flight awry
tint, a fluttering
             of a quite quaint butterfly

Portray me with endurance
imbue so bold and bright
doth not hesitate
                to depict mine own mind
in profound fuchsia and white.

Useth the colors yond thee would borrow
Thy palette not yet exsufflicate
Paint mine own loss and mine own sorrow
in search of a shade so ******

Adorn mine own heart in glowing garnet
at which hour thee paint mine own love
add a true broken blue shade
of the cloud and the rain above;

Study mine own dry sorrow
                              in mine own soul
useth any shade thee plaited
soften the edges of control
in a tinge of xanthene.

O Painter
Prithee paint me
Mine own passion and mine own spirit
shall has't a crimson r'd hint
mine own remorse and mine own regret
shall reflect an ink stain print

Paint me in mine own eye so true
O Painter
but add a dash of courage too

~
When I paint, I’m never quite satisfied as I see all my mistakes, blemishes and colors not quite right. I tend to keep painting to try and get it all right. At some point, I arrive with the conclusion, if I keep going I’m going to mess it up. I stand across the room and, it’s then that I’m amazed at what I have created. I like to think that I’m seen in the same way by my creator.
Cné Dec 2017
You
You've ...
   got me burning
      my mind's wheels turning
                    no matter how hard
                               i've tried
        i always find myself
    tongue tied
mmm tongue tied
              with yours
           my libido soars
          touching you,
touching me
   You're all
         that i see
             lying naked
                     in my bed
           can't get that image
          out of my head
      kiss me,
touch me,
    feel me,
          want me
               i can still
             smell Your scent
      and all my energy's spent
trying really hard
    not to care
          yet i still feel
Your fingers in my hair
      my hair draped
           over Your face
                       it wasn't
              the time or place
       me on top of You
it was all i could do
to not melt
   from the ecstasy
                         i felt
                         kiss You,
                            touch You
                               feel You,
                         want You.
Sunday morning thoughts
Cné Dec 2017
she dragged me out of the house
knowing i was feeling down
not allowing me to wallow
in my self pity,

she dressed me,
        painted my face
               fashioned my hair,
that’s my girl friend

at Juliana’s,
small family owned Italian restaurant,
a gem of a find, she said,
Lorenzo, greeted her with familiarity
(she leaves a memorable impression)

she introduced me as her bestie
with a twinkle in her eye
young (as all under 30 people are to me)
handsome, dark thick curly haired,
with dancing eyes,
a serving towel over his left arm
nodded with a genuine smile

i smiled back despite my mood

wine was swirled, smelled,
sampled and selected
a captivating performance,
executed expertly

she watched me
watching him
describe the specials  
with a melodic Italian accent
transforming my mood

garlic knots wafting with his stride,
placed on the table
with a small bowl of marinara sauce
still hovering
in his long lean fingers
it slipped,
splattering red stain
on the pristine white cloth

without skipping a beat
his eyes poured into mine
words emerged
forgive me, your beauty made me nervous
True story,
and yes I left a fat tip!
Best line ever
Cné Dec 2017
Endearing is the moon tonight
and through its silver glow,
She whispers secrets of the things
that only she could know.

Of lover's trysts on summer nights
of kisses ‘neath her smile,
Of secret murmurs begging "friends"
to stay a little while.

Of sweet caresses cherished
in the fog of memories,
Of moonlit walks in arbors sweet
'neath swaying groves of trees,

Of shadows cast by clasping hands
of hearts that feel desire,
and unrequited love
               that feels like death
                              from friendly fire.

Of promises in passion made,
with no chance to fulfill,
Of loneliness, of happiness,
of parting's bitter pill,

She whispers of the romance,
of the love that's hot and cold,
Like love that loses passion
but sustains us getting old.

She passes in the evening sky
and frolics with the stars,
And leaves this mortal on the porch
to mend life’s wounded scars.

Yet, never does she realize,
the secrets that she'd shared,
Are common knowledge
                         here on earth,
where love has all ensnared.
Writing poetry ‘neath the ever glowing cold full moon tonight, from the rambling thoughts swirling in my head.
Cné Nov 2017
priceless diamond drops
the pavement of broken dreams
streaming down my cheeks
Inspired
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