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Shashi Nov 2010
SWAN SONG
(–noun the last act or manifestation
of someone or something;
farewell appearance)
_____
Lotus pond
Waits
Silently
Lotus flowers too

Pink petals -hesitatingly
Unfurl, heron silently stare
Life unfolding,
In the morning mist

Boddhi tree floated, a message
Of life,
In the falling leaf
On the temple floor

Breeze stood still
Music of Flute stopped playing
In the bamboo grove
Swan has started singing its song

Life, lives in little steps of love
But love bleeds life
In little steps, too
Falling, leaving and dying

Swan is singing
Its swan song
Time does not know,
It has come

Deep in the temple
Buddha Smiles
Nothing is forever
Forever is nothing
____
Om Namah Shivaya
Shashi @ 10/2010
http://shadowdancingwithmind.blogspot.com/2010/10/whispers-swan-song.html
Brooke hit it off with Edric from the moment they met.

The dangerously ****, tattooed ex-SEAL and always a poet, Detective for the LAPD, remains as one of the best friends she’s ever had, the main star in her wildest fantasies.
When they met he did not see her that way. And she would have died of embarrassment if he found out she was still a ******. And he was about to stake his claim, struggling to keep his attraction to the beautiful, blond dancer a secret.
He was not good enough for her; that is what he thought. On a day when an attacker targeted Brooke, Edric’s protective instincts went into overdrive.
With the attraction between them burning like a torch flame, he would do whatever it took to protect her and tell her they were meant to be together.  
One evening, deciding to express her love for her, Edric waited outside the door, keeping watch over the woman he loved secretly. Then he saw her through the curtain, dressed in her black fur coat.
Not realizing that she was being watched, yet fantasizing about the man of her dreams, Brooke lowered her fur coat standing in front of her mirror.
Her soft ******* protruding out from her black lace bra, in her mind waiting for Edric’s hands to touch her love her, want her like she wanted him... As the coat slipped down her black lace skimpy ******* seemed so inviting. Her dreams of him were getting so vivid. She would imagine him standing over her, kneeling, as he slipped his hand under the cover, exploring her body, wanting her, making her desire so real. Seeing Brooke in her lingerie, he was awestruck by her beauty and wondered what to do next.
Hesitatingly, he moved towards the door and to his shock saw a shadow, moving slowly, stealthily, trying to pry the windows. Failing to open the window, he moved towards the door. He pulled out a bunch of keys trying out one by one. Edric’s first response was to call for backup. He called leading detective Donovan Mallow his partner. Then the shadow opened Brooke’s door and started creeping in, Edric wasting no time, Edric charged to stop him. Suddenly he heard a shot that rang out into the night. There was Brooke standing in her black lace bra and *******, holding a gun and the intruder lay dead on the floor.

“Brooke drop the gun, please Brooke drop the gun.” Brooke was shaking… “Brooke, sweetheart, drop the gun. “She looked at Edric and let the gun fall to the floor softly.  On the verge of tears, petrified out of her wits since she had never used a gun before,  and to **** a man, she shook violently. Edric walked over to her and picks her and covered her half naked body with his coat.
When Detective Donovan showed up, Edric held her close while the former checked  the body and called for the paramedics and further back up. When the police came, CIS took finger prints, investigating the crime scene.
Edric found Brooke some clothes and dressed her, escorting her to the precinct for recording of her statement. She was questioned and released.
With Edric’s story and Detective Donovan backing her up, she was released. Not wanting to disturb the crime scene, Edric escorted her to his home and put her in bed. Brooke, I need to tell you something, is what he said.
“I am listening”…Brooke was shivering after having gone through the trauma, yet attentive listening to the man that she had secretly admired. “I want you to know, I love you”.  “You love me? I love you too. I always have.” Brooke looked at Edric with an adulation emanating from her very soul.
As an instinctive response, shivering, she let her head lean on his shoulder. “Edric then please make love to me. I have yearned for you so long”.
As the sun slipped from its perch in the sky slowly, drawing well into the darkness, the shores where the waves would roll and sigh, Edric slowly undressed Brooke, one piece at a time. As he took off her blouse admiring her beautiful soft protruding ******* with each moment her ******* getting hard. Taking  off her pants and there were the black lace ******* he had seen from the window. Her firm and tight stomach and legs, she looked so delectably **** and beautiful. She was lying with a look of anticipation on her face. He enveloped her with his arms and kissed her softly, passionately. He didn’t want to scare her.
“Edric, I have to tell you.” Brooke whispered in his ear. “Later Brooke, you can tell me later.” He was so aroused and was getting so hard. “No, Edric now.. I have to tell you now.” Edric stopped and looked at her, “What is it darling?”
“Edric I am a ******. You are my first man. I have never been with another man.” Edric sat there and couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew then that he had to be gentle. A wrong step and he would scare Brooke. He held her hand and kissed it.
"I kind of suspected but am surprised. You always had a naïve gentleness and girlishness about you. You always seemed so vulnerable that I always wanted to protect. You always had affected me in a way that I couldn't explain; no other woman has ever done that to me.”

Saying that he helped her dress and holding her hand led her towards the ****** beach outside his cottage. Wrapping her in his arms, they watched the beautiful glow of the stars, eyes aglow with passion of locked hands. Edric spoke his favorite lyrics, into her mouth as he started kissing her.
What a poet was he!! Impatience getting the better of her, “Edric, please make love to me… Oh! how I want you.”
His kisses were soft but passionate; they started at her lips to the base of her neck sliding down to her *******. When they got to her stomach her breath trembled, yearning for more.
Electric shocks ran down her spine. She almost screamed. The winds gently swirled, dancing to their rhythm of their passion. A girl, morphed that sweet evening, as Edric make sweet passionate love to her and made her into a blossoming woman.
Guess, there is nothing in the world that matched the feeling of eclectic emotions that were born that night. When a tired sun finally arose as a grim reminder of the end of an ethereal night, it sighed endlessly, spreading a gentle caress across Brooke’s cheek, pledging that she was bound to Eric for eternity.

Debbie Brooks 2014 -
mark john junor Nov 2014
she is a blatant caricature in loud technicolor
her presence shouts ****** innuendo  
alluring with dark undertones
her past shadows her every word
like clouds passing over a weak sun
she is the road untold but by the few hardiest of souls
her skin tangles his mind
as she watches him in the rearview
runs her hand through her hair repeatedly
he is mesmerized by moist lips parted  
around phrases dark and foreboding
the cool calculation of her casual appearance
he is sleepwalking a dangerous dream
he is a dramatic parody in shades of pastel
a sorrowful tale told hesitatingly full of doubts and fears
full of the gentlest of loves
weak and stained he stands in the fell shadows
waiting for her rusty razor blade kisses
she has him
like clouds passing over a weak sun
and he loves her for it
Billie Marie Sep 2021
going past the quarter of no return
feeling rather timidly
hesitatingly
full of something yet unseen
liken to smelling the baking cookies
but having to leave before the bell rings
here is always where trust comes in
has to or it all falls apart
till we begin again anew
distraction's got nothing
on this bright new filling moon
K Aug 2017
i apologise for not being
                                 becoming enough of a person

personifying a human being
                                        besieged by the lack thereof emotions.

emotionlessness consumes me
                                                metaphorically speaking, or it maybe

magnanimously just spares my heart -
                                                        hesitat­ingly, yet all-encompassingly.  

altercations between the conscious and sub
                                                                ­      supersedes any revelations whatsoever

whereby a somewhat sound mind like mine
                                                                ­     mimics that of a child

choking on the fear of the monstrosity lurking;
                                                                ­    lurching from under the bed.

bewildered by the bogeyman,
                                 bogus feelings, confused mind

mischaracterising i
                                i am sorry

somewhat, somehow
                                        sorry.
Momart Oct 2014
I continued to walk
along the dusty road
with an open mouth
and a stuffy nose.

Came upon me--
all in a sudden moment--
I recall

a smiling tiger,
with a gaping jaw.

Taken a back
and very startled,
it took some time
to muster up courage,
but then I started:

"Tiger, you know me--
that I know.
Tiger, now we meet,
friends not foe.
Lets proceed,
and together
grab something to eat."

The tiger shocked at my diplomacy,
and bravery,
hesitatingly
responded,
"ok."
A E Bill Jul 2017
That feeling
you know
just before the roller coaster drops
just before you take the leap
just before you fall
is a constant in me
hesitatingly lingering
vague and unrelenting
somewhere in the middle of my body
a cold sinking
a heavy dullness
that I can't cure

But sometimes
you know
There's a smile because of something I said
There's a hand that traces my arm
There's a certain look
and I forget that feeling
tentatively hoping
cautious and optimistic
that something like this could be recurring
a sweet hesitation
a growing relief
and it's all your fault
Jon G M Aug 2014
He and her
an empty room
her eyes searching for direction
his hand touched her face
his thumb stroked away her
uncertainty
he leaned in
so that she could feel his heat

Strip for me
except for your heels
those stay on
he stood observing
hesitatingly she did as told
you've become shy with me

Why

She had no words
he had taken them along with her clothing
shhhhh!!! my love
settle your thoughts
do as I say

I will guide you
along this journey
filled with unconditional love

I will take you to a another universe
that you've never dreamed of
filled with unknown heights

A love unbeknown to you
take my hand
let me be the one
Sally A Bayan Jun 2021
At sixty plus
       a series of scenes from a life past
       started flashing back...swaying,
       like soft organza curtains, giving
in to forces of the wind...blowing,

recalling...things that used to be,
       places, faces i no longer see,
       people i haven't met and long to meet,
       words i meant to say....but didn't,
       things i failed to do, but still meaning
       to, given fresh starts...it's tiring,
       counting "should haves," so i'm saying,
etcetera, etcetera.....the list is unending.

At past seventy,
       sunrises are lovely as ever...and bolder,
       sunset moments are quieter...and holier,
       old days seem nearer,
       with poetry-writing, the call is stronger
         while still dabbling in beads-making,
       designs pour over me, when stringing
moonstones, sodalite, and lapis lazuli.

I am in a different zone.
       when mixing poetry and natural stones
       to me, a word is a crystal, a gemstone
it's merely a word to some...a stone unknown.

I guess...at late seventies,
       i'll still be in white shirts and blue jeans,
       creating unique, interesting themes for poetry,
       say, a big bus with travelers, seated hesitatingly,
       or, finding a bright tunnel's end, serendipitously,
       or, unrepenting souls sinking deeper, regretfully,
more silly love poems?  i'd indulge willingly

my frame may turn fragile...i pray, not my poetry,
       not my judgment, nor my decision-making,
not my courage, especially, when i'm past eighty.


sally b

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
June 18, 2021
Mohd Arshad Jun 2018
The desert in the desert,
No camel to move on,
Its master is in
Like that master
Who tailored this land,
And the wind alone
Takes rounds hesitatingly,
And speaks to leaves
Informing us
Still there is life in the desert
If we have faith in him
Norbert Tasev Jan 2022
Some desperate, fierce impulse, Some exasperated temper, with many handfuls, Has gathered in us; from fierce hatred A simple word of help is seldom heard! The sound of indigestible preaching is carried abroad by a howling wind! From fire-breathing, roaring throats Peace can seldom spring! A cheap legion of micro-quakes of small lateness goes forth, Even sneaking suspicion-men are cut down! Some secret flame of love should be planted anew in the hearts of men, to blossom again!


High-energy vibration-sounds, soughing at high freckles, in cacophonous alarms, frighten us needlessly! Stubborn dissent is better off as a sneaking thief, searching and searching for only forgotten and non-acute experiences! This degenerate, degenerate civilization is being measured again by the new, profiteering distribution of material wealth! Ladies of ebony body, like enthusiastic, exotic consumer-mediums, dance out of a vegetating, man-wrecked existence; nor should the dignity-laws of the Golgotha-service be violated by outward, parade-like celebrations!


Under beams of eyebrows carved in stone, redeeming love might once have been born at any time, and the superstitious, smiling Deity sought to quench his ardent passions with kisses: from cordial meetings, whoever feared or dreaded ***, might boldly flee! - Wonderful knives of noble steel glide flickeringly sly on the frightened faces of petal-crystal gazes; the wing-cracking of night-butterflies is heard hesitatingly even in the deserted doorway!

— The End —