There is a legend
about a bird
which sings just once in its life. more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth,

From the moment it leaves
the nest it searches for
a thorn tree,
and it does not rest
until it has found one.

Then singing, among
the savage branches,
it pales itself
upon the sharpest spine.

And dying, it rises
above its own agony
to outcarol the lark
and the nightingale.
One superlative song,
existence the price.

But the whole world stills to listen, and God in His heaven smiles.
for the best is only bought
at the cost of great pain....Or
so says the legend.

This resonates deeply within me
because being an RHO negative
Mother every Gyno MD advised
termination of my unborn
a malicious prejudice
the medical database is WRONG  
I SAVED three of my children
they were born
they live
the loves of my life
Its true with me too the best is only acquired at the price of great pain and sacrifice
If lucky and awake our heart and own intuition will know to aim for the best  Thanks for your time dear poets.
The legend piece is anonymous
but it came to me
and I accepted it as my very own.
have you been
i guess not,
for your attention
in my poem
could tell
sorry if this nurse
took so long
in finding
the perfect words
to cure
your soul
strip your clothes
stand at the mirror
gaze at the
creature with
the foggy figure
a sinkhole
in those eyes
and a temporary
stitch whenever
you would
the collarbone
which hides,
suffocates from the
blanket of skin
sickening lies
it penetrated
corrupted your mind
ignored the
fact and just
the beast
will kill you,
don't find
it sexy
the chaos is screaming
later on
you'll be
i know how
a reflection
you lost yourself
you lost you
it's like
having a stray cat
beneath your
a wandering stranger
sails from
the memories
of truth
overflowing blood
your dilemmas
it mimicked the
fire of hell
in those
the greatest harm
you'll ever
cause you
but why a
and not a
listen here,
you are your
the cure and the pain,
which decision
will define?
all i can
say is,
save yourself
from death,
it hasn't
deseved you yet
go ahead
and fight your
way to life
I suffered from these issues. And I don't have to wait to heal completely so i could serve my people.
She moves with
The Gracious meeting in denial
He's the baron of beef delicious side
Reproduction picture full slide
The most
   Casual face

Met the eternal masterly
    Artist face
Saying Oh! Grace
The other side of midnight
     Mask Face
She could overjoy anyone's
Heart in the right place
    Deceiving Face

The miracle of love principles
Such skepticism could it be overjoyed realism

But a hell of a time with heavenly bliss
What a shock when he gave me my kiss
His Crooked face to longevity nose
Hiding place A-Rose

Beachy trance-set face

Highlands of Scotland,
anybody would want her
     *Joyful face

He's the baronial
Secluded caves but risky dives
The turn only If?? I
could turn back the time
The events strictly

Her apple cheeks bathing suit
He is picking her fruit
So soothing the fiddle
Tinman whistles the ladies harps

Their medieval moment's help!!!
The swords  bust to his manly chest
Sleeping Inn New castle west
Their best bedrest

The cupboards open overjoyed
invitation decorative cans
Of greens, pinks, purple passion

And flourless chocolate cakes
Powdered lips love his reaction

She was seductively awe-inspiring
The top hills of Ireland grass
vividly raised her legs
The bowl next to her
The Rose blush wines
Bare it Fruit and figs

The baronial tug of war wigs

Melodious birds the
Grand One
The thousand piano words
Overjoyed but
under the {Baronial} weather

So lordly new threads tailored
carpenter pants
Men of the herds
She's the
Caron French boutique

There sexual desires
The creature within
Wildly mating like critiques

Her perfumes so extinct
Overjoyed her heart
So cultured violin strings
Dollhouse Castle to restore
With her unique touches,
he wanted more

The steps tiring like a killed deer
every muscle he could hear

Over elaborating how people are dating
With a  stamped from the very
heart  approval
But hard times such laboring
Sitting in her
overjoyed chair
His face all Scrooged
no gifts of flowers
What are the odds of this pair

Over and over again her rainbow
her sensitivity we need longevity
The  endless walls are caving in
We are not so overjoyed by
this monster garden
She had her first breakdown
Going up the
Jack and Jill Ireland hill
In the longtime what long run
Way too short
It didn't come from above

The vintage oldtimer
radios sitting
together with
family listening
so long ago
So commercialized
The crazy shows
Where do you really want to go,
you just want to shut everything off

He called her the powder puff
Waiting for the nocturnal star
Those scrubs and hot rubs shower
Over my knee-high boots so in
love cahoots

Oh! It's her
The smart student
Owl Hoot whats to boot
Eating her shepherd's pie
so lordly full lips word-me
Ireland Holy Land
of love and beauty

Overly scrupulousness
The time of blessings

But the baronial loved to be
overly entertained
And she would sit there  
Blue-blooded royal dishes
Got flushed away no wishes

Like the hardest love
of multiplication
The sexual overstimulation
Over embellished
But you're still positive
But why did she
want to vanish

Destroyed her
Apple jubilee computer

Spiritual Zen
Or new lover Amen
Ever touched by Ireland maidens
Like the crimson and clover
I do believe in the
Four leaf clover Face

Like the only thing she picked
were the weeds
More beauty of life and deeds
Or tons of sorrow wondering
how she
would feel tomorrow?
We will never know
Overjoyed by so many things have the beauty Ireland is amazingly beautified or everything feels unnecessary gloomy or horrified you rather pick of ripe blueberry or cherry or blackberry living like your in the castle being summoned on by the Scrooged type Baron
Ashley 2d
Pressesd tenderly,
your carnal flower opens,
its butterfly released,
hovers like a hummingbird
drinking from the bill.

Oh, I too would steal you away
and cage you happily,
to get under your black-fringed skirt; 
to see that pretty dress,
fly off once more,
and see you bare;
burned now forever in my banks,
a first sight,
of dark curls!

As I think of it,
my desire stirs,
but I have already masturbated twice,
thinking of us;
hips pinned,
sliding over our wet perspiring bellies,
in our jungle heat:
'cause in the firmament of our embrace,
its hot,
where glued we jerk into each other,
stoking flames,
until sleep,
when we disappear from each other:
my mind in reveries,
filled with niggling neurotic inanities;
yours with manic dreams where criminals in cages beg to be freed,
before better spaces overtake.

When I awake,
I am lying next to you,  
Gwen over the horizon of your fertile valley,
a white reposed mountain.
murmuring desire for me.
I can't wait to answer.

It is late,
late morning,
and we are all half asleep;
you have your back to me,
as we lie,
rubbing feet,
stroking hands,
the oiled bulb at the end of a finger,
your fine shoulders,
(that delicate but persistent bone in your wrist that with pointed elegance,
like a dancer's,
as my penis couches,
quietly rocking us inside,
moving you,
moving us,
warmly enveloped,
diffusing into each other
like the early morning brew.

Lust and love,
which for a good while on edge had been:
the weeks,
faint promises from afar;
sometimes a little closer,
our shadows in daylight cross,
as one over the other storms;
and once (or twice),
a sleeve brushes
even better,
hair crackles,
as a speaking lip touches lobe,  
and for a moment,
taking in the other's scent,
a hint sublimely overpowers.

And these,
dearest of fancies,
are just some,
with which to penetrate your mind,
as you have mine:
the energy of my yielding tendernessness,
inviting you to complete me,
as I spread for you with desire.

Much later,
those daring looks you have,
the way you walk our stage:
your beautiful china bone face,
those quick-fire arousing eyes,
your sultry self-assuredness,
your pre-possessing self.

I could talk about your couple,
of generosity,
reaching up,
beyond mere comprehension:
of the fact that I like Gwen
(his love gift for you, me);
but actually,
in truth,
I prefer to take this moment to make love to you;
to say how wrapped I am,
folded up,
in your limbs,
in our mingling sweat;
how with your joy,
you touch my desires,
into yours,
where they run,
flow rather,
down inside your thigh;
honeysuckle from your blessed nymphae.

You love my smell,
you say,
and I dream of enveloping you in pheromones,
of drugging you,
of intoxicating you,
so once again you will find me,
take me,
have me.
Entice you once more like a creature from its shell:
where I can ravish you,
all of you,
lay naked to me,
your very bones;
those fine elbows,
those knees I would like to ejaculate over:
wash their smooth surfaces with my come:
from these cliff heights,
rain semen on the rocks below.

To once more cast aside your socks and get at your toes,
to pour oil on 'em,
to rub and squeeze' em,
while in the moist cavern of your insides,
we fuck,
half washed over by our own tide.
And as we do,
I quail,
speaking sweet nothings of appreciation,
your sounds return,
the hypnotic rhythm of your breath
from full lips:
I engorge and in our labyrinth,
- the maiden and the bull -
we consume ourselves.

Sweet Lentiform,
you did it,
you got me rolling in flesh,
lusting after your intimate parts,
wanting you in bed as I know you must have me,
pulling me on you,
kissing and biting,
making me pop,
squeezing my cock in your palms;
running a curved finger over my nethers.

lying prone,
lying fucked,
never unconsumed,
please us,
with more;
so rarely,
unfucked even for a pause,
doing nothing more than sleeping and carousing;
barely enough our sustenance to keep us at it,
an occasional comic thrown in.
throw the fucking comic at me,
will you?
Fucking beat my flesh with it if you like.
Anything to see you standing in all your white naked glory!

And if you can,
keep texting me,
so I can hang on your every word like a fucking puppy!
Beautiful long-haired,
skin tight,
gorgeously wild,
woman ...
Now pull me by my cock into your cunt -
where I love it best.
Imagine being loved! It is a miracle some say.
Love fiercely he advised me for this all will pass away.
For all who seek each other there is no need to remind
That we have all the world, but very little time.
Man of woman born Is but a transient creature.
I only learned to love so well
because I had the finest teacher.
7/22/18 is the 37th Anniversary of my Dad's passing. I received a kind note from a lover of mine some time after the funeral which said in closing that she was grateful that my father had taught me so well how to love.
A-Start the best part*
A-Healthy heart breakfast

Not so fast slow down of prayers
Just come and arrive
Sheer whispering Dress Aline
shapes of water are mine

The Green Gables
The twins whisper in doubles
The pink fur Hello Kitty
My best of the cattle
Meet her friend the Furry Sable
The loud whisperers the sleepwalker
They call her the wanderer
He whispers and she's the keynotes
"Her Real Estate' A-Steal for diaries

But their children love to whisper

The crayons Highlights of the wonderland
Building more Ancient dreams

Stealing the grapes of whisper escapes
Like  A-dream planted to remain
A steal cannot take that away
Even if it's you're last meal

Walking with the one you love for miles
Come on baby light my fire
Whispering Morrison door to save
A dream to give the world peace
Like wishing well pulling the rope

Whisper could that be your prayer of hope?*
The guitar the invisible impossible star
And he steals another dream  
Whispering shadows pass like clouds

Australian Malamutes doing the salute *

Got strung along
And lost you

*A-STEAL for an eye for an eye
  just give a life

Whispering over again wasn't
the way to play smart
Losing my voice
How to trust someone's words
So hard like the concrete
The abundance of food
Ala carte or Dente

A-Steal dream putting it
into your mind

Whispering Falltime Women in her
Acorn-SHOE* prime time
Walk-in closet Godly light
Like the Viking of swords

Where to go who will ever know
Not a pin drop of a slight whisper
Clasping or gasping for air
The Holy Water was left

For the delicate minds
of the deer
That light talk of resistance
Lips of acceptance

With her silken pillows
Tied their dreams
Sopping wet rain
The French soothing whispering rainfalls
Wearing her trenchcoat
Whispering her sugar words
He could find me peace to my river
Like two peas in a pod to float
A Steal how love can make the difference
Just feel you know what's real
Sands of time whispering dream
Often told the end is truly the taste
to breathe
Even if you are deep inside her dream
To justify her means
Like the Queen to the Diplomat
The highest authority

You almost felt only your whisper would be the priority
The Aristocrat  cleaning up your bad dreams
*High beams a spoiled love Tit for the Tat

Not the fairytale Dr. Seuss you gave it all you got
Cat in the Hat- or the desperation of one last whisper
Up the sunrise and on your way the
You are the creature of the night
Shining the light never ending the battle night
Smells of baked cake through your nostrils
Rocky mountains of Colorado dreamy caves

Hearing  sounds but living in the distance
The romance you got blinded like a ghost but
you got your chance of lovers and whispers
Canadian waterfall talking not whispering

Doing Pilates what *Yogalates loving the
yodeling dreaming watching him the diver*
Going dirt biking just love the dreamy feel of hiking

"Hearing Attention Hitler in the Summertime"
All blue eyes what a dreamer
The good Earthly brown so worthy
The Cafe eyes

A steal dream like a spilled milk
for only a cat now scat
Summer the Kings speech air
Whispering path of the love heir
The assembly line
Good and the bad memories
The years getting away with murder
The law of attraction in order

Erasing someone's scent
A- million stars you found your truth
Looking outside of your dream your
Was your *Godly
Whispering has many advantages and its amazing to see someone in your dream like your lover the mountains hiking or dirt biking and the change of seasons to lovemaking
woman emerges naked & pregnant
from the dense brush, starts eating;
goes into labor, shouts out, what're
u, writing a book! thinking her mate
has come face-to-face w/ his maker;
she squats & taking deep breaths lets
the load drop screaming & crying;
he's no prophet, he's constipated &
looking about for something to read;
woman walks off along the beach; its
warm waves lapping beneath a zesty
orange sky, feeding the tasty juice
from the coiled umbilical to the infant;
the man finally gets a clue but by
now, the woman is gone; it's getting
late & it's time to hunt; it's easier to
feed one than three; meanwhile, the
woman finds a camp of mothers &
children, washes herself & the child;
sits down for a hot meal & is offered
a safe place to sleep beside the fire,
the little creature at her breast; man,
finding a like-minded troop of savages,
excitedly tells them of the creature
w/ three heads & a mouth between it's
legs leaving out that he fucked it until
he got to know them better; noticing
two men holding hands & thinking
he must've taken a really wrong turn
Sometimes they think they are it
the man of the house, demanding when sat, a real big hit
relishing the chain of command over those who wait on hand and foot
for they start off small, expecting so much more,
as they have written the book

But let’s not forget who is the real master here
they are just a cub, cute yet endearing,
but you’d rather be down the pub supping a beer
scratching the sofa with eyes so large they are easily forgiven
killing flies and onto mice, it is how they are driven

As the kitten is a creature yet to grow into its fold
playing like a baby does until its days of old
they’ll fight and cry like kids, you’ll hear them on the street
they won’t give up, soft yet tough,
never knowing when they’re beat

A dog is fun and obeys command, yet these things rarely do
you’ll call all night, their name out loud, but never return on que
yet eat you out of house and home,
Felix down to the last lick of the butter tub
as they are animal of selfish wit,
a beast when grown but will always be my,

Little Lion Cub

“Cats are connoisseurs of comfort." ― James Herriot

"If animals could speak, the dog would be a blundering outspoken fellow; but the cat would have the rare grace of never saying a word too much." ― Mark Twain

"A cat has absolute emotional honesty: human beings, for one reason or another, may hide their feelings, but a cat does not. "― Ernest Hemingway

"Never try to outstubborn a cat."― Robert A. Heinlein
Anonymous One,
Strange how the human mind loves escape,
Strange how we run in many mazes all our life.
A man can be irritable, abrasive to his wife
And daughter and son through no fault of their own.
He can chew quarrels with neighbors to the bone,
Or invoke memories of what his father had done,
Dwell on his unhappy childhood, love turned sour.
He can nurse resentments hour after hour,
Year after year, or water his discontent.
His energies, too, may be spent
On racial or group prejudice and hate,
Political ideologies growing at an increasing rate.
He has it in him to grow bored in relationships,
To seek other roses, travel on other ships,
To seek lovely new eyes, new love, and happiness -
Anything to cover up his loneliness.
He's a creature of pleasure and excitement,
Often becomes enamored of his pain, internal din,
Does anything to escape his emptiness within.
Or he may choose the soothing balm of religious belief
Or ideology or become a patriot,
Seeming high-minded, yet behind the mental drape
Is the fact that he loves running, loves escape.
Next page