Please hold me tight, he says, as he awakens me from deep slumber,
This strong willed man has finally let me in to his true feelings, his vulnerability unencumbered.
For whatever reason, he opens up and lets me into his mind's thoughts.
Panic of upcoming events and uncertainty are playing havoc in his head.
Hold me tight, I'm scared, he breathes softly in my ear.
This strong man is even more sexier to me, within his own fear.

I write poetry,
some say it is bunk,
It lifts my spirit,
some say that it's junk.

Writing poetry clears my soul and sparks a journey,
A foray into the deep depths of thoughts and sometimes worry.

I hope that those who understand,
will take a moment with pen in hand,
To be creative and play with words.
An afternoon spent in thought and contemplation,
can be the best way to dissolve stagnation.

A poem can be heard by others who do not seek to criticize,
who wish to relate and sometimes wish to conceptualize.

How can passerby's stake claim
to something they do not understand.
It is me and I who shall say *******,
taste, touch, and smell, if you don't like it then go to hell.

once I knew the lust the pain
  to not hold you again,
you spin my mind into what might be
  then stand aside and pretend it was not for me.
is it someone else who occupies your mind.
  The lustful moments we shared, are they now not for me.
The games of want, then wait and see are so hard to take.
  I am blinded by your messages of love, then at the end of the day
you say you have no time for me.
  What is to come, I cannot foresee, are you tired of me?

The long passionate kisses we share, then unbeknownst to me, you turn a loving moment into an argument with no care.
How am I to fare, through this crazy mirage.
  Am I so weak, that I cannot see that I am no longer your muse.
You have found someone else, and I am hanging on to nothing but a dream.  A dream of a wonderful life, of passionate love making and utter acceptance of you and me.
  What is to come, I cannot foresee, are you tired of me, or am I so lame, so ashamed to keep hanging on to what might be...

She rides a badass Harley and she doesn't give a **** about what the neighbors are saying, because she lives her life not worrying about judgements of the image they say she's portraying
But then on the other hand…
She loves bubble baths and babies, flora and fauna,  manicures, pedicures and dancing, she likes holding hands and soft gentle kisses and she thinks poetry is totally romancing
But then on the other, other hand…
I've seen her fire a 44 Magnum and i can tell you, her targets are rarely missed
And the way she shifts a standard transmission she says it's done with flick of the wrist
But then on the other, other, other hand...
She speaks very softly with a pretty little voice, and her whisper is enchanting and crisp, her favorite thing is to snuggle real close, and the ways of the philanthropist
But then on the other, other, other, other hand...
She knows how to plow a field for growing, and shes shoveled her share of ****, shes not afraid to dress a deep wound, or drink wiskey, or swear, or spit
She manages an office full of egos and divas, she hires and fires at will, and if your stupid you'll threaten her loved ones, shell definitely maime or ****,
But…………..

What's that you say, I'm a very nice person? No credit to me if you please
For the way that i am is how mother made me, and her name is Agnes Louise
She sacrificed all raising 5 little monsters, without ever asking for squat
She never gave up on any of us, and now we live what was taught
Shes been a best friend to all of her children, always a shoulder to cry on
But when we were wrong we feared her hands, that would teach us right from wrong
Through example we learned how to work very hard, through painful and difficult conditions
With honesty,  respect, and the good Lords help, we carry forth all her traditions
She nurses the wounded and saves the abused when no one else seems to care
She taught us compassion for all God's creatures, to help overcome their despair
So if your thinking were a wonderful lot I thank you but need you to listen
We're only a product of Agnes Louise
From the woman our lifes have been given.

Thank You Mother Dear