"contributions" poems
I don't seek your permission...
To write about the what, why and how.
It could be a haiku or come in the shape of a cow.
I don't need your approval...
When I don't sound the least bit poetic...
In my mismatched metaphors or ill-rhymed acrostic.
I'm not asking for your blessing...
When I pen down and put up what I think...
Be it in cloying cliches or in tear drenched ink.
I don't crave for your understanding...
When my 10 word poems weren't filtered through your poetic lens,
Or if my contributions in collaborations lack in sense.
I don't hope for your likes...
If my content does not tickle your fancy,
Or if my words just rubs you silly.
I mean no disrespect...
But don't be too quick to click on the 'comment' button.
Private messaging has been put there for a reason.
I don't mean to cramp your style...
You're entitled to your own opinions of course...
But if you've got nothing good to say, please save it and shove it up yours.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 10:43 AM UTC
If (WO)men are the ones that suffer an exacerbated amount
Of the violence, the **** the abuse, and everything that comes
with and from struggle and alienation;
it is because of their femininity that men at times
have come to believe that their contributions soften institutions.
That at times throughout history neither capitalism, neoliberalism nor revolutionary experiments like that of Cuba have placed femininity as compatible
with progress or resolution.
In which case femininity must be hidden, silenced, or displaced with no purpose or place to belong.
Thus everyone closely associated with this femininity such as homosexuals, transgendered (WO)men, and "effeminate" males, (ignoring, subverting and negating the lesbian identity because of their gender) have come to be marginalized by a structural system of exclusion.
(WO)men carrying the highest burden for originating the associative distinction
Homosexuals battling to find love by constantly having to assert their masculinity
Transgendered (Wo)men afraid of expressing their through identity.
Lesbians fighting to legitimize their own identity separate from the directives ascribed onto them by virtue of being born women.
Males who are labeled effeminate because of their sympathy toward those who struggle and are alienated.
And every other individual who refuses to deliver to give a marker to their identity and a degree to their femininity.
Hold fast in your femininity and embrace the rancor that society grants you
As a homosexual I speak with you brother and sister, not for you
Realize that our self-ascribed degrees of femininity and identity are as revolutionary and transformative, and thus necessary, as those of Che Guevara, Mohammed Ali, Harriet Tubman, or the Dali Lama.
That because we have decided to embrace our degrees of femininity, problematic to any movement, at one point or another, we have inadvertently decided to align our selves with those who are alienated the most by the systems in which they live.
So that in this way we must make our struggles deliberate and political. Let our degrees of femininity become legitimizing banners of solidarity for anyone who suffers in any corner of the world.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 12:48 AM UTC
To know just where your're going
You must know where you've been
You must respect the history
The things others have seen
It's true in all things relative
Be it music, sports or life
If you don't know where you came from
You're just dancing on a knife
Gherig, Ruth and Robinson
May, and Mantle, Seaver too
Respect their contributions
And don't just say Ruth who?
Respect where things have come from
And the players of the past
Because you learn and make things better
It's what makes the **** game last
Jimmy Foxx, Bob Gibson, Kaline
Nestor Chylak and The Goose
They made baseball special
They gave the game a little juice
Orr, Richard and Gretzky
Gordie Howe and Howie Morenz
You have to know about them
You need the beginning to your ends
Bob Baun and Bill Barilko
Connie Smythe and yeah...the Chief
You have to know their history
They're what it is to be a Leaf
The game has changed immensely
Things can not go back in time
But to me...the old alumni
Made the game I know as mine
Respect the ones before you
The ones who laid the groundwork down
The ones who made it special
The non-pretenders to the crown
Elvis, Buddy, Harrison
Played the songs inside their heart
Lennon, Wilson and the rest
They all played a real big part
Every single generation
should learn from the one before
For if they don't know where they've come from
Then what has it all been for?
Nicklaus, Palmer, Bobby Jones
Sarazen and Hogan too
They pushed the gameright to it's limits
Now the pressure's upon you
The new breed are the teachers now
They're the ones to lead the way
When twenty or so years from now
You'll hear somebody say
"Respect who came before you
The ones who made us so **** proud
LIke Nash and , Perry and Taylor Hall
They played the game so loud
Pudge, Jeter, and Verlander
they brought it up a notch
They were there to stretch the limits
Not to just sit by and watch
Rory, Justin Rose and Mahan
Bubba, Dustin and the rest
They are the players of the future
They all respected the games best
So, to know where you are going
You must know where you have been
Respect, past through the future
And all that's happened in between.
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 4:49 PM UTC
People power people, and pick their equals.
Ideas, decisions, and what becomes real.
Whether we stand in a line, elections.
Decide who continues on, selection.
The rich become rich only from people’s contributions.
Using their products, services, or through admiration.
Social media, likes, comments, a way to get attention.
Striving to break from conformity, this world’s automation.
Scream, shout, acting strange in public.
Shoot, attack, people turn on each other, frantic.
People become desperate, run out of options.
Detectives try to figure out motives, using caution.
Joker said it best, why so serious?
Wasting time on the small things, getting furious.
When you can turn it around, hear how they feel.
Truly care and help them heal.
Be a friendlier face, selfless.
To those hiding in their shells, helpless.
Maybe everything seems right for a while.
But this world is in chaos, and in need of smiles.
Why so serious?
Smile
Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 8:12 PM UTC
Softly, gently, I sipped
your red cherry-lip petals
patiently, silently, I grabbed
your brown nip-let buds
deeply, knowingly, I drowned
into your blue eye-oceans
The feminine body turns
to be a dates garden
amidst my own
barren desert !
Williamsji Maveli
Email: [email protected]
*
KGA (UAE Chapter)
Literary award for Poetry declared for
Williamsji Maveli’s “Arramviralthumbath…”
The Kallettumakara Gblobal Association (KGA), UAE Chapter has announced their first poetry award for excellence to Williamsji Maveli's third poetry collection titled as “Arramviralthumbath …” (On the tip of the 6th finger, published by H & C Books, Trichur) .The award has been declared by Mathew David, Chairman of KGA at their Executive Committee meeting held recently in Sharjah Emirate of United Arab Emirates. The award has also been considered for his poetic works scattered in his recently published book named as “Maa Salama." ( means "With peace" in Arabic). The poems have been gathered from different desert sketches, focusing on his real-time life experiences ,while he was working in UAE for more than 30 years. Williamsji, (Williams George), former Ras Al Khaimah based Journalist and lyricist of tester-years has been nominated for a literary award for the first time for literature. The Award is being formulated by KGA (Kallettumkara Global Association, UAE Chapter) for outstanding contributions to literature from the native writers of Kallettumkara, a village town in Trichur, Kerala in India. The award will be presented by the KGA’s UAE Chapter on the grand occasion of their 10th anniversary, which is being scheduled to be held during September, this year,
according to Mathew David, Chairman of Kallettumkara Global Association.
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 3:09 AM UTC
This weekend, something has awakened inside of me. This weekend I have lost my fear. I have fasted and been patient- I have enjoyed the company of my friends and enhanced in their sadness, their happiness, their contributions to the feeling of “whole”. I have seen human nature and kept to myself. I know that throughout all suffering I always have the peace of myself to return to, the inner quiet that speaks to me at night and envelopes me and tells me it will all be okay. There is beauty in the system, the system that lacks courage and strength, where cowards reside, there is also fault. Excellence and prodigious truth lie within nature, tranquility, the placidity and enjoyment of pedestrian life. Over complication does nothing to enhance life or living, and the creation of problematic situations is meaningless in any circumstance. To live and live in the lives of others is where true value lies, and I am settled, I am content.
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 9:57 AM UTC
the Hello Poetry portrait gallery
is becoming full of empty frames
what individuals had a hand
in these harassment games
we've been deprived of many
talented written contributions
the villainous mob most adroit
with their unwarranted executions
blank boxes tell of an almighty
mischief being awfully made
by they who are wanting
to garner every accolade
under a serious threat our
fraternity of poets are thus far
and of seeing unfilled cubes
there leaves a permanent scar
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 10:27 PM UTC
Stomach pains directly connected to the interwoven circuits that are
Wondering, hoping.
Stopping at blind corners
Questioning the soul...
A potion of acid and cactus forms
Transformative contributions.
Catching up because you woke up to late.
Now it's to late; so late that your building a statue to remember the good you see in others.
The universe is penetrating everything at the same time it's being penetrated while we all wonder what is happening?
What does this all mean?
Why are we here?
Everything is ***** and a ****** everyone is ******* everyone and everything and everyone and everything is being ****** at the same time...
Nobody gets it while the soul is in the body.
By the time the true soul leaves the said body you fools will build a statue of this body that no longer has a soul.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 12:40 PM UTC
Social relations.
Fading, dissipating.
Regenerated and rebuilding.
Everything held deep spills out over past memories and future broken promises.
Talking of brighter days with different time lines.
Watching, talking, passively dissecting minds of those like mine.
All investigating our inner workings and imagined surroundings.
It's in the waking hours of the dawn. It's when time is irrelevant.
When the new day brings nothing but revelations and unfiltered ramblings.
Anything to fill this void.
The morning air feels stale compared to renewed awakenings.
Constantly picking at the scab.
Digging for one last laugh.
A final smile.
The perfect ending for the night we might forget.
We forge new mental pathways and plan play dates.
Evolutionary socialization.
Cigarettes serve as reality checks and mirrored reflections.
Open eyes burning for something tangible.
Awake and unaware.
Filtering through the nonsense and intellectual genius.
Trying to read the dusted lessons buried between advice and elaborate fairy tales.
We speak of ideas.
We speak of all the things that rest on the ledge of our understanding.
We dream of what it is and what it could be.
All seeking growth.
All staying just within the caution tape.
Ponderous wondering of connections and false enlightenment.
I remain skeptical even though I've felt it.
My mind has always held an untrusting grudge against my intuition.
In the end it's just another day.
Contributions minimal.
Lessons learned... Still settling their sediments.
They're Remnants.
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 2:29 AM UTC
I see the sad color of racism not every other day
But every second of the hour, all minutes of the day
I see the serious mental and physical damages
That this cancer has done throughout the ages
And is still doing to our beloved human beings
The others treat our People like they are leftover beans
On a petty pet's plate. Our people deserve respect
Fairness, justice, equality, acknowledgement
Compassion, credit and better treatment
Our sisters are tired of being left out on the deck
Our siblings are often harassed senselessly, persecuted
Falsely accused and relentlessly prosecuted
At one time, they were hunted and hounded by the system
At other time, hindered and haunted by an organized medium
Created to attack, destroy, burn, ravage and annihilate
To embarrass, marginalize, ridicule, punish and discriminate
I see the color of racism, when the police for no apparent reasons
Stopped, frisked and handcuffed our homeless, our elderlies
Or our law abiding citizens, like it was open seasons
To hunt for mule deer or bears, who behave like enemies
Of the civilized society. I see the sick color of racism
When our people are not hired not for being unqualified
But because of their skin color; they're quickly disqualified
Dismissed, fired or terminated. I see the monster of cynicism
All golly minutes of the day. The arrogance is unparalleled
Beyond belief. The racists forgot that God only created one race
One human race, one human race, one **** human race.
Their false pride, their fake supremacy, their ignorance is unleveled
And their audacity is incomparable. I see the colors of racism
Not that I want to search for them, not that I want to find them
Most of the time, I simply cannot elude, evade or escape them
It is not easy to ignore the litanies of bad or negative mannerisms
The bigots easily function like virulent or venomous vipers
That **** out the emotions, and that destroy all positive characters
Our lives, Black lives, like other lives, are sacramental and important
And our contributions to the world are significant
I see the ugly and surly color of racism not every other day
But every second of the hour, every minute of the **** day.
Copyright © February 24,2015, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 1:07 AM UTC
Nature's contributions cascade along the steep trail.
Numerous white patches and yellow splotches
set on a blanket of green
amid immense coverings
so blue that it seems parts of the sky have fallen.
Pinks protrude like boulders in a creek
while reds try to hide around rocks and crevasses.
Faded petals,
past announcements of spring
now reside alongside signs of birth,
buds seeking an identity.
Arrays of mature blossoms parade full and ripe
along a path of short lives and slow deaths.
Fallen relics, grey and mossy
display across the emerald carpet,
a memory of another time.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 11:24 AM UTC
Galileo Galilei--
Physicist, mathematician,
Astronomer, philosopher--
You angered the Roman Inquisition
And later the Pope and Jesuits as well.
Your scientific observation
That the earth moves around the sun
Was deemed a heretical revelation!
Spreading ideas "contrary to scripture"--
A risky endeavor and path to take--
Guaranteed life imprisonment
Or a gruesome burning at the stake.
Under pressure you recanted:
"The earth doesn't move around the sun."
They say that under your breath you muttered,
"And yet it moves." You lost, yet won.
Though you lived under house arrest
For years until the day you died,
Your scientific contributions
To benefit mankind cannot be denied.
It's sad when dogma and ignorance attempt
To force dissenters into compliance.
It's sadder yet that in this century
Too many people still ignore science.
Our thoughts aren't shaped from cookie cutters;
Beliefs don't all fit the same mold.
Praise to the thinkers who soar to great heights
And break authority's stranglehold.
Praise to those who dare to defy
Petrified positions or views--
Who challenge our mind-set and open our eyes
To truth and awareness, despite jeers and boos.
- by Bob B
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 8:55 AM UTC
isn’t it truly amazing
this universe
in which we co-exist
has evolved
through dinosaurs
evolution and wars
heartbreak and turmoil
happiness and moments of peace
every single event
extravagant or minute
each occurrence played a part
to mould this space we live in
so many contributions
in the form of attributions
all the tongues created
words spoken, thoughts shared
stories passed down through generations
buildings assembled, torn down
life and death
diseases and cures
chaos and equilibrium
a perpetuous cycle playing out
continuously on loop
all of it comes together
to form this mess of an education system
that’s makes me want to **** myself.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 4:52 PM UTC
my head is
a vacant lot
loaded with automatic cars
idling in a polluted environment
full of bidding corporations
run by empty businessman
who take advantage
of a selfish inward populace
that raise violent children
who turn off their minds to the madness, cruelty
and cultural void at the local nightclub
called "Numb" or " E-tarded"
and slobbering over drinks and beats
like the sounds of horns
from a traffic jam
driven by impatient animals
in a sheepfold bawing
their way to the nearest vaccination center
for thier imaginary twinrix dose of
swine ***** and orange juice
that skyrocket diabetes rates above google hits
and fat conservative voter polls
broadcasted daily by popular media botox injections
that styme creativity
with the same ****** music
played over and over and over
like the broken recorded rhetoric
that tell us to destructively reach out
to foreign countries
while selling ourselves out for better cars
but increase profits and taxes
at the same rate of the rising prison population
and shrinking contributions
to health care , edU-caTion , community and environment
all the while you can hear the sheep bleat and beep and bleat and beep
Feb 27, 2010
Feb 27, 2010 at 7:06 PM UTC
Virsaviya
*a beautiful heart
got all required contributions
from good hearted people
happy for the donations offered
now we need all your prayers
please remember this little girl
in your prayers*
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 6:58 PM UTC
Mediocre Flow (Spoken Word- Freestyle-Dramatics)
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
==Mediocre Flow ==
by
SassyJ
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
(Copy the link below to your browser)
https://soundcloud.com/user-367453778/mediocreflow
In the woods I get lost, arrays of green specked by the rays of the sun. The wind blows but its swift in measure. I get lost my body in the breeze, as the time runs faster I breath slower. Lost in the wonder of the nature. I lay it all down, the worldly desires, disused contributions… all in the mediocre flow.
The grounds feels so alive, alone but never lonely. The trees talk to me, they journey my vulnerabilities. A hug of the branches goes far beyond. The only lean over that drives me to ecstasy of …….my mediocre flow.
All done with expectations and chasing the unending mazes. We become the mistresses of the earth, arching and protracting with emotions, lotions ……looming greyed blues. Hold this packet of stars, I pass it to you to touch, to overflow in it’s magic and fantastic voyages of the. …..mediocre flow
Feel the greenness patched on the muddy grounds. Have the enliven nature of the flying bubble. See the flow of the waters, the contraction of the streams to the lakes. Touch the drops….the raindrops, nurture them as they sink below your feet. Feel the life, feel alive….. the mediocre flow
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 7:42 AM UTC
A man who fought for freedom
Is frail and old yet remembered
For all his contributions and sacrifices
He made to rid all types of discrimination
In the early years a Law Degree
Seemed perfectly suiting
Boxing made him tough like a brute
But his soul-passive, polite and caring
A role-model to everyone
Who said, "Debate, no guns!"
A peace_maker for all
A teacher for all
Even in darkest hours
His humilty, nobility and responsibility
Is but a few of what we can reap of his success
27years of incarceration
All for the fight of discrimination
His sacrificed time
In quarries of lime
A day that they remembered
A day that they paraded
With happiness and delight
1994
People in queues of snakes
Waited for a chance to cast their first vote
*We salute you TATA MADIBA
Thank you for your valiant services*
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 1:10 PM UTC
You say freedom of speech
But not for me as things be
I breath heavy with scenes
See things as a minority
As a young Latino male
I see lots of myself in jail
Traps are set and on sell
Equal blood color is spilled
Martial law across the hall
Racial wars coming along
Rest in peace to Trayvon
Another young man gone
Contributions are all illusions
Spreading through confusion
Relations between contusions
Love for those who abuse them
One of my best friends is black
One of my best friends is white
One of my friends is masculine
One of my friends is feminine
One of which was a criminal
One of which was a clinical
Both of my friends are humans
Finding out life is so typical
Two of my jewels were blue
Two of my girls shared hue
Two of my schools loved me
Two of my enemies cut me
Two of my mothers cried
Two of my brothers died
Both of which had big futures
Before hate took their lives
Three of my peers are my equal
Three of my peers make new evil
Three of my tears stained the paper
Three of my years were endangered
Three of my hearts broke in time
Three of my guardians declined
All three rose up against me
And began to belittle my mind
Replies depend on the victims
And the symptoms felt in them
To fight back or stop living
To keep going or be bed ridden
Is the valley to deep to dip in
Are the times increasing division
Humans beings have hurt vision
Blind to a philosophy holistic
The clocks are going tic tic
I've been called a young ****
My friends ancestry exist
My friends ignorance is bliss
He holds onto passive racism
He doesn't notice the shifting
He says, "I have black friends
But... ," Just to avoid friction
So you say freedoms of speech
But you don't really know me
As a majority with a minority
How can you experience things
That your culture brought to me
Left my people ***** and hurting
And I'm not from genes of slavery
So think before you speak.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 10:15 AM UTC
Words are weapons of mass distraction
to take our eyes off the criminal action
of democracy ****** over for global destruction
as media serves to create obstruction
as votes get sold for campaign contributions
and we the people search for solutions
the rich get richer and the poor get *******
and the planet dies screaming in the interlude
Oct 7, 2010
Oct 7, 2010 at 9:33 AM UTC
It's a possibility, you know me, but a probability, that you don't
possible you'll see me, but probable, that you won't
A possible connection, the kind that ever sings
but probable, no music, no contributions bring
Where it's a probable rejection, that cuts into my soul
or a possible exception, losing all controls
Everything in life, is possible, like songs within the wind
not all things are probable, and so, here I go again
I follow behind you, where probability is ever thin
instead of beside you, where possibilities, never end
Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 8:38 AM UTC
Mentally unwell
Body sickly
Mind is clouded
Heart is melancholy
Substance abuse
****** promiscuity
Laziness
No motivation
Bad hygienic practices
Worn and battered
Beaten and bruised
Years of let down, bullying and abuse
Skin radiating
The colour of light brown sugar
Contradicts what’s beneath, the pallor.
Heart feels none but one emotion
Sorrow so deep it engulfs the ocean
No positive contributions to Earth
Death, decompose, rebirth
Just a sorrowful body wafting around
It belongs in the ground.
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 11:15 AM UTC
doopth..doopth..doopth..
the intonation of a gavel
upon a felted block
order, orrrder,
i now call to order this
washday gathering
of the
metaphysical
analytical
socks
drawer # 1793
all rise and come to toetip
for the grand entry of
the great thrice darned heel
kazoos squeak the intro
to the ode to joy
an old grey golf sock is
ushered in to sit slouched
on the top of the washer/dryer.
he observes the following proceedings.
now to business
the agenda for the day
1. groove and the toe socks
table their report on the
systematic eradication of toejam.
2.the tradditionalists continue
the open discussion on,
wool versus synthetic,
for winterwear.
3.we have a vote scheduled
on the referedum matter:
do we allow sandals and thongs
guest status in this drawer.
4.the metaphysicists update
us on the age old conundrum;
"where do the odd socks go?"
at present they are devling
into the posibilities of
superposition of states,
as presented by
the schrodinger's cat theory.
5. the analytical group are meanwhile, surveying the remaining
evenless socks;
to obtain data on the pairless state of being
6. and finally, we welcome a deposition from the natralists;
with regard to use of bamboo
and hemp to allow for the wicking
of footwater, for a longer lasting
freshness of the base arch construction.
please feel free to attend one or
more of these discussions, contributions and /or questions
will be taken after the presentations.
i am also asked to inform you, that
the metatarsals group has a table of goods for sale, at the leftside of the wash basket.
items include:
new elastics and darning equipment.
books on special this meet are;
the ever popular
"how not to become a sock puppet"
and the tragic
"my life as a duster"
then there is the new offering of
"sox and jox:
the art of underwear
diplomacy."
and one last item of note:
a reminder that membership fees,
(of one clean toe clipping) are due
before next months gathering
go now,
enjoy the gathering.
and may the foot be with you
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 3:39 AM UTC
On August 28, 2014, was somewhat of a milestone for me. A one year anniversary, so to speak, as a member of the HP Family. It has been a wonderful, enlightening, and exhilarating ride, and one I hope to stay on for quite some time to come.
To all of you who have taken the time to read my contributions, commenting, or not, THANK YOU!
I write for relaxation, and recreation. For the most part, I try to entertain, to bring a bit of a smile, or perhaps a laugh or two, and if the piece has done that, then the goal has been reached. Have all of my works been "winners?" Of course not. That is just part of the menu. Some meals are good, some aren't. Regardless, I will try to get better. I will "keep my seat on this "Poet's Train" and hope it doesn't stop anytime soon.
Richard Riddle
(I thank the world for all of you! This August will be two years.))
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 8:35 PM UTC
This isnt a poem, it is an open invitation to any member of this community to attend a poetry reading that myself, Travis McCullers, and Jaysen Good are hosting. It will be held in our homely hometown of Live Oak, Florida at a certain Spirit of the Suwannee cafe on Sunday, March 4th. You all are more than welcome to attend and any contributions you wish to make to the performance will be considered. The cafe is a full service restaurant and bar, so please feel free to get obscenely drunk on the premises. Directions and contact information will ne provided to serious inquirers via private message. Please feel free to ask any other general questions that may occur to you in your comments below.
thanks for reading,
David Badgerow
Feb 20, 2012
Feb 20, 2012 at 11:39 AM UTC
Etta James, singing “At Last” behind me now,
lights turned low, two fingers of Drambuie on ice
the air carries the aroma of desert roses,
green fern and damp mossy bark; the gift of a posy.
The scent reminds me of the quick light rains
tapping in the afternoon, making love to thirsty
new greens, coaxing them up to reach for more.
My body reacts to the thought, arching up.
Sips of warming golden liquid, the cold ice
a give-and-take of restrained contrast,
until the liquid has all been consumed –
and the ice remains, bearing the spirit upon it.
Contributions to reflections in sensuality,
The ice, captured up quickly from the glass
held in deft fingers, neatly, to paint their
cold upon my lips, sipped within a warm mouth.
The cold, diminished cube, dances on the tongue.
I rise; the glass left behind, and come to you –
Face to face, eye to eye. The kiss shares the cool
as the ice passes between us, to melt in loves flame.
Eyes close, now drinking in another kiss,
I feel myself surrender to the flame that rises up.
Once more I am arching within your arms,
strong, gentle hands contain me, stoking the fire.
I am released, free to feel all that is within –
to bring it to the surface; without question - to share…
The heady scent of longing fills me, fueling passion
The ice, a forgotten prelude to love’s rendezvous.
Lin Cava ©
Oct 19, 2010
Oct 19, 2010 at 4:36 PM UTC