#baths
The rain sprinkles on the lawn.
While I bathe this dawn,
The steam arising fuses
with the droplets falling,
They become one,
As I am one with myself
And with You.
Mar 18
Mar 18, 2026 at 4:56 PM UTC
I lie here in my hedged-in garden,
forest bathing,
soaking up
the sic sounds of nature craving,
wrapping myself in heat,
leaves, grass cuttings, and dirt favouring
the way we were created.
My bouncy body drips with sweat,
washing the day's work off, leaving
space for new memories to be created;
garden painting, ivy-wall plaiting, sound-scape-skating,
embracing all the mysteries of nature,
even that lithe lizard that let out little ones, populating!
Jan 25
Jan 25, 2026 at 9:52 PM UTC
I soaked,
long, in a salt bath,
the rain,
dripped,
o’erhead,
and all my misgivings
slipped
right
away —
Dec 13, 2025
Dec 13, 2025 at 5:01 PM UTC
Baths are a curious thing,
That I would lie in one, serene,
For hours —
The water, once clean
Washes off all that is obscene
Then I wrap myself up in towels, till dry.
It’s a place where I dream; sleep and day-dream,
Of far-off spaces, I would see
poetry inspired.
Also, a tranquil, healing pool where I grieve,
Catching all my tears for reprieve;
Then I leave relieved, floating —
May 8, 2025
May 8, 2025 at 4:30 PM UTC
She...she responds to a soothing bath.
He...he prefers a different path.
They each disrobe from the day's affairs,
the formal restraints they each do share.
Their clothes lay scattered about the floor,
both stand naked at a tiled shore.
She eases herself into this sleeve,
a temperate knitted liquid weave.
He guides the stream from it’s perched spout,
the water finding the perfect route.
His face is wet, his eyes are shut tight.
She prefers ambient candle-light.
She gently sponges her supple skin.
He grips the soap...oh, so masculine.
She contemplates his rugged terrain,
he puts his hands out to feel the rain.
His caress yields a lathery foam,
her fingers begin a downward roam.
He too diverges, or so rather,
deviates from the task to lather.
Much attention in just one region,
cleaning can’t motivate this legion.
His thoughts of her, and her thoughts of him,
nothing stops what’s about to begin.
Tremors start from her head to her toes,
a smile blossoms as she plateaus.
He feels the pressure stiffly increase,
it brings to him an immense release.
She savours the last rippling quiver.
His knees weak from such an endeavour.
They catch their breath, and resume their chores,
have they been remiss in these detours?
Excuse the news they misuse shampoos,
they choose to amuse with such taboos.
One can’t ignore in the aftermath: he takes showers
... and she takes a bath.
Sep 17, 2019
Sep 17, 2019 at 10:34 AM UTC
The back end of daylight shines through the bathroom windows
casting orange shadows over warm water.
Drawing a breath between my lips and the smoke forms in my mouth, tickling my taste buds before it escapes through parted lips out into the the orange where it spins in circles in the light rays.
I’ve been here before, the odd vibration of the same old universe
but this time-
it’s a different feeling. Exhaling into the new day, things are better.
The cigarette carton lays in the trash, razors folden in between paper towels tucked into the corners of the same garbage bag.
I watch them be tossed into the truck and wave to the addiction.
My fingers haven’t touched the back of my throat in weeks,
I’m eating again.
It’s a new day and I live it through the night.
Mar 10, 2019
Mar 10, 2019 at 7:58 PM UTC
I'm waiting in stars of light
bathing in darkest night
a hope of rose petals sprinkling down
onto water that's all around
steam is raised above water high
lifting; sifting to the sky
breaking not for it can't shatter
unlike the roses, seeming tattered
the scent of soap
of roses' hopes
I lift my hand
to understand
the dark that surrounds me
but with my touch, the dark shifts enough to see
in bleeding grey
a new day
to wake up to
alone...
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 5:00 PM UTC
257 days.
For the first time,
I don't want to shower him off my skin.
No need to scrub;
Your lips leaving delicate traces,
Your hands entangled in my hair,
No need to rinse
Feeling you,
Sending shocks down my spine
Fingers brushing against skin
Electric impulses
No need to wash the memories of;
Bodies intwined
Kissing shoulders and sternums
(whatever has been left exposed)
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 3:25 AM UTC
Forgotten memories swill into happy minutes,
White, red, white, red, red,
Wine is good for your heart,
Though it drives the blood right to the walls of my mind,
Leaves me on stilts.
Wine and a bath,
Like you ran me once,
Smiling through your teeth.
Wine is fine.
Spicy. Oak on the nose.
The ache in my jaw deep now, like a shot of adrenaline, on the cold street holding a phone to my ear as you speak emotionlessly: ‘I can't’
Swill it. Earthy and dark.
The ache so deep now the blood has made it to my teeth.
Tip the glass high. That last drip fills the space.
Another glass. Just one more.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 6:41 PM UTC
If I focus
really hard
if I tilt my head just right
and narrow my eyes just so
I can almost make the world disappear.
If I don't blink for a very long time
I can only see rough outlines-
no noise
-and I like that.
If I focus
really hard
if I close myself off
And turn my pride down just so
I can almost make the world disappear.
If I don't breathe for a very long time
I can only see white darkness-
no pressure from others
-and I like that.
If I focus
really hard
I can almost make myself die.
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 11:43 PM UTC
It used to be that my favorite part of baths were the whirlpool
That twisting tornado of water
Spiraling out of control as the dirt and soap disappeared
Into the darkness
But what if instead of water and dirt
It was our life?
What then, would be draining?
Emotions, and youth
Decisions and mistakes.
Memories all swirling away into nothing.
That must be what if feels like to get old.
As the last drops of warm water escape
Leaving only the cool air on our wet pruny skin.
Thank goodness for soft comfy towels.
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
i am good at unrequited love-having
and extra long bath-taking
and forever self-pitying
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 7:46 PM UTC
I'm still scared
That I'm going to **** myself
I still cannot take baths
With candle light
Burning incense
To clear my head
And the water's too hot
Numbing my body
Stuffy air
That makes my eyes water
Remembering that night
I cannot submerge my head
Underwater
In case I decide
I do not want to surface
again
I could take all the drugs in the world
get high as a kite
Trying to feel something
more than this
This nothingness
Goes deeper than
Beneath my skin
I am dead inside
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 1:28 PM UTC
at age five,
her bath is full of bubbles
and happiness.
yellow ducks floating
on the surface,
make her young soul
happy.
at age ten,
her bath is not
full of bubbles.
she does not take baths
anymore.
she showers now,
because it's faster,
and forgettable,
just like life should be.
at age fifteen,
her bath is not full of bubbles,
again.
but now, she sits in the tub,
only dull water surrounding
her body.
on the surface there
are no more yellow ducks,
they are now replaced by flowers,
which are ripped out from the hard ground along with the root,
*just like she was ripped
out from her silly dream,
along with her insane mind.*
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC