People are waiting for valentine's day
but I really miss valentine's date...

I have a question for you
Plucked from the day we met.
I have pondered asking for a while
And still I haven't yet.

Especially with important matters
Or ones dealing with certain subjects.
But as I sit here wondering, waiting,
I think I may be ready for what comes next.

As we talked about chess,
Poetry, movies, and songs,
Random facts, and paradoxes
All these evenings long,

I sat thinking still...
Gazing thoroughly upon
The face you wear
And the smile you had on.

As you may be able to see,
I can often tend to be
Incapable of stammering out
The words I desperately want to shout

I get that I don't know you well,
But I feel I may want to..
As long as it works with you...
And maybe if you too...
Could possibly like to do...
If only I already knew...

Would you like a coffee with me soon?

Join me beneath
an eight percent moon
that shook itself free
from Irish holly
on its way to
bearded stone.
Agent of itself,
it little cares what
we'll do here,
in this rose garden
of shadow flighting.
Join me in the sliver
of tinnish light
that wanes into the berries,
& shove your breath
into mine with clear intent.
We wear dresses of silence.
The mottling dark
clenches your hair.
A faceless statue
chaperones no one.

Take a moment to remember,
Our coffee date in November,
The spark of a thought-lost ember,
In December, hold me tender.

Calligraphy note left neat on my chest,
Made me forget all about the rest,
I cannot believe that I'm not a pest,
Something of a strange little mess.

Don't forget we looked at the stars,
From inside of a cold foggy car,
Our toes so cold and so far,
I had to say that you got my heart.

Take a moment to remember,
Our coffee date in November,
The spark of a thought lost ember,
In December, hold me tender.

Calligraphy note, in my sketch book,
Every so often I'll take a look,
You're my love,
My dear,
The one who holds the hook.

Who knew life would last so long.
so tedious and constant in aging.
( birth - one - two - … - dead )
And if someone knew how long it would last,
Why would they sign that contract,
on the dotted line on an oak desk with
all too important looking business men greedily grinning.
(the devils favorite disguise)

Who knew of the beating of the heart-
so exciting and focused on one lovely face.
(or set of lips)
Like a party with a spinning bottle,
Soon to be the pulse of the first date.
And first night cashed in bed,
rolled over from exhaustion- excitement.
(a steady rhythm takes on different meanings here)

Who knew that words would be so tough.
so damnable and lackluster
(until they line up just right.)
And poems a love-hate-multi-night-stand.
where we always bicker and fight,
but always come back for one more line.
or in my case,
nothing at all.

Roses are red, violets are blue
A dinner you promised, just me and you.
Reproving winds lectured me in bites
For my barely-there skirt, and lustful eyes.

Sour cream lathered that oily exterior.
The aftertaste lingered, creating a barrier
Of which soft lips could not break through
Nor embellished flowers or chocolate fondue.

With our stomachs full, with more than just food
You brought me back home with beer-stained shoes.
My mind a fog. The Lamb now waits to be skinned
For the Wolf that set the ****** trap to finally begin.

Virginal blush, tinged with her bruises all blue
A dinner you had promised, just me and you.

Heat Lightening
by Michael R. Burch

Each night beneath the elms, we never knew
which lights beyond dark hills might stall, advance,
then lurch into strange headbeams tilted up
like searchlights seeking contact in the distance . . .

Quiescent unions . . . thoughts of bliss, of hope . . .
long-dreamt appearances of wished-on stars . . .
like childhood’s long-occluded, nebulous
slow drift of half-formed visions . . . slip and bra . . .

Wan moonlight traced your features, perilous,
in danger of extinction, should your hair
fall softly on my eyes, or should a kiss
cause them to close, or should my fingers dare

to leave off childhood for some new design
of whiter lace, of flesh incarnadine.

NOTE: The title is not a typo but a double entendre. Keywords/Tags: sonnet, rhyme, love, lust, desire, ***, petting, necking, parking, date, dating, lovers' lane

I had a date with death.
She was cold, in a warm way.

The way she spake, it was enticing
The way she carried herself.
I fell in love.

I had a date with death.
She was lonely.
But she also saw other people.

I had a date with death.
She stood me up.

I had a date with death.
And i was alone, she was there.
Alone too.
We were lonely, together.

I had a date with death.
I joined her.
And we walked the path.