My heart was
An empty
Nudist beach
Before I met you,
But now
You are there,
We are there.
     And finally
          Are...*

© 2015 J.S.P.

Please forgive me
I have the worst kind of writer's block

I have thoughts pouring out
from everywhere
I still can't touch my pen
I have no right to be angry
no right to be hurt
no right to be sad
It was my fault

So please forgive
Give me back my right to be
my right to write

Maybe next time
It is not just your tablet
But, also, my chest,

When it is not just my tablet,
     But, also...*

© 2015 J.S.P.

I like the improbabilities that go with love,
Just as when I held your hand
But never really held it,
As the physicists would oppose to the idea,
Saying that it is because
Of the electrons and stuff, and quantum stuff
Which I find so hard to believe.

(But you, dear, frankly,
You need not make me believe,
Only wonder.)

See, I look
At you, closely,
And closer still as if
Two comets, themselves, defied
The distance of lightyears,
For me,
Just to look back.

You are a star, love, I think,
And I have likened my self to the Universe,
Not because you are near,
But because you are far,
Yet far enough...

So I could love.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

I shall tuck two kisses on your collarbones
Like actual children you will tell love stories to
Just below the fire, the light of your eyes,
Just above the apices of your lungs, your life force,
Hoping in your heart, inside, I slept,
     And sleep no more.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

I have oh so many thoughts and feelings,
Hundreds and thousands,
Millions and billions,
But can i put them into words?
No
Not at all
*Never

Pen on paper poised with every feeling to write
Yet no words come, flow onto surface
Yet no sound comes, pen scratching surface
Yet no feeling comes, fill full the heart
No mind of prose nor poetry
No soul of words nor songs

I want to bathe with our lips in the sea of our kisses,
Luring out the young laughter from the depths of your soul,
Lather the thin foam of the blue poem that is a rose sometimes,
And reconcile your senses to a deep sadness, to the ways of its touch
As though to fish for the ripple, for the boot of your heart,
And wade out your breast, your chest, your tenderness,
Drown fragile towards you, in you, as a piece,
The center, a bait for your blossomlove.*

© 2015 J.S.P.