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"rgpage" poems
By rgpage The cool evening breeze filled with a scent of approaching rain. Caught by playful window shears as it passes through an open pane, to reach their   length and breadth toward the waiting bed. He was a lover of music and his woman, a passionate man with a sensitive heart. She was in love with the melodic way   his gentle fingers moved with sensual touch over her soft silk like skin of art. He started gently around her ears softly prying them open with the quiet richness of her melodies. Each note of his gentle kisses leading her to a sensual abyss, easing her down from the edge, controlling her descent, to her goal. Down the swirling dark and light blends of the music rendered from her soul. She was his instrument on which he placed his soft loving fingers, moving them effortlessly, caressing her most sensual delicate keys…Each body part smoothly rubbed added richness to her sensual sound driven by lust and loving trust.   Her ******* he fondled, licking and kissing, squeezing and rubbing. Silently giving thanks, to her creator for such an amazing instrument. Both of her hands with long slender fingers tangled in the long dark locks of his hair as she eases her maestro’s head up tighter against her soft beautiful mounds. The loving melody continues with his touch now joined with the sound of raindrops splashing into uncovered metal buckets and cans. The drops carried on the breeze through the playful dancing shears came through the other end as nothing more than refreshing cooling mist. Her body was his loving piano, and as with the 88 keys of his magnificent Baldwin, the sensual areas of her equally magnificent body, when properly stroked,  filled not  only the bedroom but the whole house with the most glorious ****** notes known to man.   After a while the symphonic ****** builds as he masterfully impales her with his instrument of love coming into constant contact with the one special key of keys. Its special sound as his strokes came harder and faster brought the whole master piece to a beautiful melodic end as the two lovers bath in the rain’s gentle mist…
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Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 12:40 PM UTC
the pianist
By rgpage The cool evening breeze filled with a scent of approaching rain. Caught by playful window shears as it passes through an open pane, to reach their   length and breadth toward the waiting bed. He was a lover of music and his woman, a passionate man with a sensitive heart. She was in love with the melodic way   his gentle fingers moved with sensual touch over her soft silk like skin of art. He started gently around her ears softly prying them open with the quiet richness of her melodies. Each note of his gentle kisses leading her to a sensual abyss, easing her down from the edge, controlling her descent, to her goal. Down the swirling dark and light blends of the music rendered from her soul. She was his instrument on which he placed his soft loving fingers, moving them effortlessly, caressing her most sensual delicate keys…Each body part smoothly rubbed added richness to her sensual sound driven by lust and loving trust.   Her ******* he fondled, licking and kissing, squeezing and rubbing. Silently giving thanks, to her creator for such an amazing instrument. Both of her hands with long slender fingers tangled in the long dark locks of his hair as she eases her maestro’s head up tighter against her soft beautiful mounds. The loving melody continues with his touch now joined with the sound of raindrops splashing into uncovered metal buckets and cans. The drops carried on the breeze through the playful dancing shears came through the other end as nothing more than refreshing cooling mist. Her body was his loving piano, and as with the 88 keys of his magnificent Baldwin, the sensual areas of her equally magnificent body, when properly stroked,  filled not  only the bedroom but the whole house with the most glorious ****** notes known to man.   After a while the symphonic ****** builds as he masterfully impales her with his instrument of love coming into constant contact with the one special key of keys. Its special sound as his strokes came harder and faster brought the whole master piece to a beautiful melodic end as the two lovers bath in the rain’s gentle mist…
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32
by rgpage face down she rests her naked form head turned from her lover's glance. eye's closed she lies and knowingly waits, (a) loving touch starts passion's dance. his huge hand moves across her back with strokes the touch of butterfly wings. upon her creamy skin so smooth its path now set toward splendered things. his pace a slow deliberate score her passion's breath he brings, from touch so soft, igniting sparks with love her breath now sings. his steady course she knows so well with every touch as if it's new. her sparks of passion love's embers light, love's embers loving hue. down past her rear with feathered touch just knowing where to go, behind her knees his fingers dance to passion's steady flow. their hips now in synchronic dance, love's voluntary ride, she feels his passion grown so hard, now pressed against her side. he cups her breast so gently as if it were a flower, its ****** earlier soft and small now hard with passion's power. and in her ***** great sparks erupt her soft and pleasured flesh. with juices flowing, desire's high to meet love's natural crush. now she turns to meet his lips her passion running high. with savage hunger she pulls him in her hunter now the prey. tables turned their urge well matched desire holds the pace. she takes control and guides his love with feminine stealth and grace. to places only she could know where sparks ignite small streaks of light, that illuminates her soul. together they fend love's tempting end to stay their lover's dance. to take control and reach their goal the essence of their romance.
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Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 6:35 PM UTC
passion's dance
by rgpage face down she rests her naked form head turned from her lover's glance. eye's closed she lies and knowingly waits, (a) loving touch starts passion's dance. his huge hand moves across her back with strokes the touch of butterfly wings. upon her creamy skin so smooth its path now set toward splendered things. his pace a slow deliberate score her passion's breath he brings, from touch so soft, igniting sparks with love her breath now sings. his steady course she knows so well with every touch as if it's new. her sparks of passion love's embers light, love's embers loving hue. down past her rear with feathered touch just knowing where to go, behind her knees his fingers dance to passion's steady flow. their hips now in synchronic dance, love's voluntary ride, she feels his passion grown so hard, now pressed against her side. he cups her breast so gently as if it were a flower, its ****** earlier soft and small now hard with passion's power. and in her ***** great sparks erupt her soft and pleasured flesh. with juices flowing, desire's high to meet love's natural crush. now she turns to meet his lips her passion running high. with savage hunger she pulls him in her hunter now the prey. tables turned their urge well matched desire holds the pace. she takes control and guides his love with feminine stealth and grace. to places only she could know where sparks ignite small streaks of light, that illuminates her soul. together they fend love's tempting end to stay their lover's dance. to take control and reach their goal the essence of their romance.
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50
by rgpage hollow now my world has grown with age that time has ****** on me. from carefree childhood days i'd known, from days of climbing in a tree. from summer sunlit mornings from sundays in the park. i didn't see time's warnings or see the sun grow dark. i didn't see the stranger who followed me one day. i didn't sense the danger as i went off to play. with eager youth i left from home the world was my shell. i didn't see the stranger who'd lead me to my hell. i'd lifted weights with youthful ease these weights now known as life. did what i wanted as i pleased; i took myself a wife. and with my wife we had a child we had a baby boy. with carefree sundays in the park he filled our lives with joy. we watched his life as he grew strong 'til off to war he went. he told his mom, "it won't be long until my journey's spent." and as his ship pulled from the pier i saw the stranger's face. with deep set eyes he blankly starred, he seemed so out of place. i felt as if i'd known this man had known him all my life. in parks where as a youth i ran and when i met my wife. it wasn't long our son had gone my wife had passed away. and in the war he followed her just six months to the day. old and lonely now i sit and watch the children play. on carefree sundays in the park until that final day. a day in which the stranger comes and takes me to my rest. to my loving wife and son upon my final breath.
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Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 9:19 AM UTC
the stranger
by rgpage naked  this night on soft satin sheets his arm ‘round her shoulders, his lover’s head rests her hair fills his nostrils with a scented bouquet as fingers explore love’s affectionate quest. tenderly lips touch in a loving lead legs interlocking add to the play. arms then wrap tightly pulling each other in their hearts beating faster to join in the fray. her ******* he kisses a sensuous gift, she feels his love grow with each loving turn. the curve of her back feels his fondling stroke to capture this feeling forever they yearn. his senses now heightened, his love at the ready to soon to the feast, the more he will miss. he must gain control and reign himself steady for her love, her beauty, and her freely offered bliss. their heart guided souls in lustful play to their senses’ delivered a bountiful tray. their love and youth play this night away, ‘til the dawn’s early light  brings in a new day. their lips now swollen, bruised, and red hearts full of love, love’s watershed. the fast night’s hours have swept past their bed ‘til night ties are severed with the sun in their stead. as that night flew by so have the years, his only love has since passed away. he turns out the light perched next to the chair, and off  to bed slowly ending his day. their children all gone one by one they’ve all grown, occasionally stopping by w/ little time to spare. w/ families and jobs and homes of their own making the time to show that they care. even though she’s gone he’s still not alone he talks to her daily when he is at rest. even though she’s gone good memories he keeps God holds the others, and he kept the best…
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Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 3:12 AM UTC
memories
by rgpage naked  this night on soft satin sheets his arm ‘round her shoulders, his lover’s head rests her hair fills his nostrils with a scented bouquet as fingers explore love’s affectionate quest. tenderly lips touch in a loving lead legs interlocking add to the play. arms then wrap tightly pulling each other in their hearts beating faster to join in the fray. her ******* he kisses a sensuous gift, she feels his love grow with each loving turn. the curve of her back feels his fondling stroke to capture this feeling forever they yearn. his senses now heightened, his love at the ready to soon to the feast, the more he will miss. he must gain control and reign himself steady for her love, her beauty, and her freely offered bliss. their heart guided souls in lustful play to their senses’ delivered a bountiful tray. their love and youth play this night away, ‘til the dawn’s early light  brings in a new day. their lips now swollen, bruised, and red hearts full of love, love’s watershed. the fast night’s hours have swept past their bed ‘til night ties are severed with the sun in their stead. as that night flew by so have the years, his only love has since passed away. he turns out the light perched next to the chair, and off  to bed slowly ending his day. their children all gone one by one they’ve all grown, occasionally stopping by w/ little time to spare. w/ families and jobs and homes of their own making the time to show that they care. even though she’s gone he’s still not alone he talks to her daily when he is at rest. even though she’s gone good memories he keeps God holds the others, and he kept the best…
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38
by rgpage in times long past young lovers dashed to reach their secret space. to kiss and ***** and plan and hope their future's goals are placed. never mind their path be lined with unknown strife and pain. their love is strong they'll carry on with carefree youthful gain. they don't see their life to be past cupid's hot embrace. as hot breath blends with kiss' deep young lovers start their chase. young love is hot and secrets not shall block their youthful nest. when young men dare and young girls share young lovers start their quest. its saturday night, dad's packard's right with half a tank of gas. with comb to hair in the bathroom mirror he's thinking 'bout his lass. its only been a week gone past his greatest dream came true. he staked his claim, with hopes on high and pinned his Peggy Sue. they talked of passages young men take to cross that great divide. to walk the way of their father's and yes to take a bride. in the grown up world so long past school the grown ups just don't see. teen love is true and made to last the way it was meant to be. he got on base with his varsity pin, the base is numbered two. this place before he'd never been he hardly knew what to do. his body went through changes great his thoughts a swirling brook. he cupped his prize with shaky hand when before he could only look. tonight's the night he's waited for yes perhaps go all the way. to walk with those who've beat love's quest to become a man this day. the time is ripe as is the night it's planned in every way. she won't resist his manly charms WHAT MONTHLY FRIEND? how long does she plan to stay? and what's her visit to do with us away from the lights of the city? who is this friend to ruin this night? his plans be dashed more the pity.
0
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 11:44 AM UTC
50's romeo
by rgpage in times long past young lovers dashed to reach their secret space. to kiss and ***** and plan and hope their future's goals are placed. never mind their path be lined with unknown strife and pain. their love is strong they'll carry on with carefree youthful gain. they don't see their life to be past cupid's hot embrace. as hot breath blends with kiss' deep young lovers start their chase. young love is hot and secrets not shall block their youthful nest. when young men dare and young girls share young lovers start their quest. its saturday night, dad's packard's right with half a tank of gas. with comb to hair in the bathroom mirror he's thinking 'bout his lass. its only been a week gone past his greatest dream came true. he staked his claim, with hopes on high and pinned his Peggy Sue. they talked of passages young men take to cross that great divide. to walk the way of their father's and yes to take a bride. in the grown up world so long past school the grown ups just don't see. teen love is true and made to last the way it was meant to be. he got on base with his varsity pin, the base is numbered two. this place before he'd never been he hardly knew what to do. his body went through changes great his thoughts a swirling brook. he cupped his prize with shaky hand when before he could only look. tonight's the night he's waited for yes perhaps go all the way. to walk with those who've beat love's quest to become a man this day. the time is ripe as is the night it's planned in every way. she won't resist his manly charms WHAT MONTHLY FRIEND? how long does she plan to stay? and what's her visit to do with us away from the lights of the city? who is this friend to ruin this night? his plans be dashed more the pity.
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55
by rgpage in a latter year of my third decade my twenty seventh to be sure. i was young and strong, not bad on looks still seeking my maiden pure. in my earlier years i’d traveled the globe the compass far and wide. i went to war on foreign shores      for uncle sam, but not our nation’s pride. viet nam took many lives and ruined many more, from the outset waiting my long trip home i felt so insecure. in those few years my way was nye i traveled from bar to bed. with whom not knowing nor caring why       to block the demons in my head. i lived this way for six long years not seeing life and life not seeing me. anti-war riots and widow’s tears a mother’s cry and father’s plea. six empty years past the stench of war, and a life now gone that i once knew. a stranger then to all once loved and friend to very few. now looking back it was then i feel God saw i had no worth for this was when i first met you, an angel come to earth. it was then you came into focus you were all that i could see. you gave your love and took me in and brought out the best in me. now forty three years have passed since that day you came into my life. i still see you  now w/ that young man’s eyes when i took you for my wife.
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Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 11:53 AM UTC
my wife, my life
by rgpage. ..his feet implanted steadfast in the pessimism of his soul. his wandering is for naught lest he fall short his final goal. arms made once for reaching hang lifeless at his side. hands once firm and strong now weak through injured pride. eyes which scan horizons for good which lay ahead. now scan the barren waste of life so fruitless and so dead. a heart once big enough to house the world so innocent from birth. let not this heart partake in now love's merriment and mirth. his mind his final touch with life the leader of his soul. now weak or dead through inner strife can't reach a single goal. is there a God so cruel to make this jest of life? man is God's finest tool, if this is so than why?
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Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 2:06 AM UTC
woe the confused man...
by rgpage outside the walls a cold wind howls in the dark of a wintry night. yet in their bed so soft and warm a young couple's fancy takes flight. fresh candle light flickers in challenge to the outside winter's cold bluster. yet safe in their place they lend a soft grace to light up the lover's growing luster. under warm blankets naked bodies entwine she's backed in to outline his form. his free hand parts her raven black hair his lips track her neck....his breath warm. her whole body shutters as his hand softly traces her side from shoulder to knees. his kiss' grow hot between shoulder and neck for more her breath sweetly pleads. his hand travels back and stops at her rear caressing her flesh firm and slow. her hips gently roll into every firm squeeze starting nature's hot juices to flow. again on the move his hand travels up past tummy so soft to her ******* while each one he fondles and cupping its weight his hips grinding soft in the quest. outside the wind's howl has grown to a roar yet inside the light slowly wanes. with bodies so hot blankets kicked to the floor wrapped up in love's rapture gains. now facing each other they give to each other their gentle and sweet surrender. a play ground of lust yet filled with love's trust and touching so firm yet so tender. she reaches her hands out to stroke his desire so hard yet so smooth to her touch. and likewise he bends in to suckle her ******* hands rubbing her hips full and lush. as is natures way there's time in love's play when exploring and pleasure must grow. spreading her limbs to let him pass in she shudders with love's natural glow. gentle and tender yet rhythmic his strokes the room fills with sounds of their pleasure. their hips rise and fall in love's intimate dance this dance, love's most ultimate measure. faster and harder they urge one another as closer to ****** they gain. kissing and rubbing expressing their love 'til euphorically numb they became. out side the winter storm rages a most punishing wind at play. yet lying inside in each other's arms our  lovers drift off and away… Dec 4, 2011
0
Jun 11, 2012
Jun 11, 2012 at 2:02 PM UTC
love in the winter
by rgpage outside the walls a cold wind howls in the dark of a wintry night. yet in their bed so soft and warm a young couple's fancy takes flight. fresh candle light flickers in challenge to the outside winter's cold bluster. yet safe in their place they lend a soft grace to light up the lover's growing luster. under warm blankets naked bodies entwine she's backed in to outline his form. his free hand parts her raven black hair his lips track her neck....his breath warm. her whole body shutters as his hand softly traces her side from shoulder to knees. his kiss' grow hot between shoulder and neck for more her breath sweetly pleads. his hand travels back and stops at her rear caressing her flesh firm and slow. her hips gently roll into every firm squeeze starting nature's hot juices to flow. again on the move his hand travels up past tummy so soft to her ******* while each one he fondles and cupping its weight his hips grinding soft in the quest. outside the wind's howl has grown to a roar yet inside the light slowly wanes. with bodies so hot blankets kicked to the floor wrapped up in love's rapture gains. now facing each other they give to each other their gentle and sweet surrender. a play ground of lust yet filled with love's trust and touching so firm yet so tender. she reaches her hands out to stroke his desire so hard yet so smooth to her touch. and likewise he bends in to suckle her ******* hands rubbing her hips full and lush. as is natures way there's time in love's play when exploring and pleasure must grow. spreading her limbs to let him pass in she shudders with love's natural glow. gentle and tender yet rhythmic his strokes the room fills with sounds of their pleasure. their hips rise and fall in love's intimate dance this dance, love's most ultimate measure. faster and harder they urge one another as closer to ****** they gain. kissing and rubbing expressing their love 'til euphorically numb they became. out side the winter storm rages a most punishing wind at play. yet lying inside in each other's arms our  lovers drift off and away… Dec 4, 2011
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55
The Slow-Bullet by rgpage In the early days of  Viet Nam the American draft was going strong. Young men in their prime of life, were forced and herded into world strife. A generation of America’s best, were then brought home and laid to rest. Wall Street smiled, the money flowed the “fat Cats” called it money owed. In towns and cities big and small, families waited, worried, and cried. Groups appeared, dissention grew. "Mothers grab your son’s and hide." There were those who felt their duty strong, to take the leap toward blood and strife with McNamara herding them along. Known to the grunts as “Mac the Knife.” The madness grew to a global scale with those that were for and those against. In bombing, selective targets became the norm keeping the rest of the world from harm. With those who didn’t feel their duty strong, a path to the north they took. They packed what they could, burned their cards and paused for one last look. With this some parents felt relief, while others felt the disgrace. Of  seeing the grief so many went through after having their futures erased. The war took over 58,000 American lives; men and women both, (before we flew away). Wall Street got their wages for blood, with broken lives in pain, many thousands more would pay. With thousands more that were yet to be lost, after returning home. Physically and mentally scarred, even those seeming perfectly whole. Then saying good-by to the ones they loved in their own special way. They stoically waited for the slow-bullet to come to finally take them away… Suicide has taken 3 or 4 times the lives than the war took. My heart cries for every last one of them…Robert G. Page, Viet Nam Vet. ‘66-’67.
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Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 2:48 PM UTC
The Slow-bullet
The Slow-Bullet by rgpage In the early days of  Viet Nam the American draft was going strong. Young men in their prime of life, were forced and herded into world strife. A generation of America’s best, were then brought home and laid to rest. Wall Street smiled, the money flowed the “fat Cats” called it money owed. In towns and cities big and small, families waited, worried, and cried. Groups appeared, dissention grew. "Mothers grab your son’s and hide." There were those who felt their duty strong, to take the leap toward blood and strife with McNamara herding them along. Known to the grunts as “Mac the Knife.” The madness grew to a global scale with those that were for and those against. In bombing, selective targets became the norm keeping the rest of the world from harm. With those who didn’t feel their duty strong, a path to the north they took. They packed what they could, burned their cards and paused for one last look. With this some parents felt relief, while others felt the disgrace. Of  seeing the grief so many went through after having their futures erased. The war took over 58,000 American lives; men and women both, (before we flew away). Wall Street got their wages for blood, with broken lives in pain, many thousands more would pay. With thousands more that were yet to be lost, after returning home. Physically and mentally scarred, even those seeming perfectly whole. Then saying good-by to the ones they loved in their own special way. They stoically waited for the slow-bullet to come to finally take them away… Suicide has taken 3 or 4 times the lives than the war took. My heart cries for every last one of them…Robert G. Page, Viet Nam Vet. ‘66-’67.
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39
by rgpage her blonde wisps of hair riding the late evening’s breeze, at the dark water’s edge they casually stroll snuggled up close under her lover’s arm as the breakers roar like a thunder’s roll. a late night stroll on deserted shore the  dark hour’s flushed with the full moon’s glow, barely enough light for their silhouette’s form, as they walk the water’s edge with its wave’s ebb and flow. on a wool blanket stretched upon the cool evening sand alone with nature, the couple takes pause she sits and leans back on his bare muscled chest lightly stroking his arm with her nail like claws. light wine and cheese from a basket she packed ‘til nature takes hold and leads them along with kiss’ on her ear and cheek he snacked as young hormones pull on urges made strong. with one finger lifting her tiny stringed strap a motion foretelling of pleasures to be earned, his fingers gently gliding it down her arm exposing a prize for which he did yearn. warm kiss’ exchanged give personal consent the ocean’s loud din now muffled and still, gentle fondling, soft kissing, their secrets are learned. with their gifts to each other of a lover’s free will. time pass’ quickly with the couple’s desires, their two bodies joined in love’s embrace; united hearts pounding to love’s ultimate dance   at the water’s edge where the breakers chase….
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Dec 4, 2011
Dec 4, 2011 at 12:53 PM UTC
midnight shore pt. 2
by rgpage Now slipping from my quiet night my captive mind in swirling motion. From my cold and darkened room with hollow days and lingering hours; from this life i slip away. And journey now i cross the seasons time's own boundaries hold me not. I course my way from winter's cold past infant spring and summer's hot. 'Til on the sandy shores of fall as in the past i gently land. I cast my gaze out toward the west across an endless stretch of waves, and sit upon the sand. An evening breeze now strokes my face the autumn sun is on the wane, and as it goes it takes the tide as if its journey needs a friend to stay it from life's friend less pain. And like a harlot in the night to keep me from life's friendless pain. I strive to seek and hold her near , her softened shape clutched next to mine to keep my lonely heart from fear. Yes to her side i often journey her calming presence soothes my mind, her pulse the breakers on the sand; the sand her softened skin; the evening breeze, her scented hair; with her a gentle peace i find...
0
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 9:01 PM UTC
autumn's ocean
by rgpage in this late hour on a mid-august night the day's torturous heat now just a trace. with heaven's dark sky splattered star light bright and with the moon's help, how they now illuminate. naked to the night on a blanket she waits from a crystal flute she sips her wine. its acrid taste makes her body brace, and her silky skin to shine. our lady awaits anticipates the night of love to be, she's made her nest in secluded style away from prying eyes, alone in the night she patiently waits for her lover to arrive. her warm body bathes in the evening breeze eyes closed she lets her fingers roam, her half-erect ******* she'll gently squeeze 'til engorged with blood they flush fully grown. laying a hand to her most sensitive spot the cradle of life's onset if you will, her first finger eases itself into place, and deftly a second does follow. slowly and softly in clockwise rotation wishing it were her lover's trace; the effect was good with her hip's gentle motion her soul now wrapped in silk and lace. with quiet stealth on an old forest path her mate breaks out of the tall trees cover, spotting his sensual prey's silhouette naked and silent he slips toward his lover. feeling his presents her eyes slightly open towering above her as tall as the trees, she sees her muscular handsome young swain in time to see him drop to his knees. leaning in he gives her soft kiss' his hand tracks her ******* with a gentle lover's mirth, slowly and gently he brings her along, with a touch as soft as a feather's fall to earth. reaching forth and touching his face and gently pulling him down to her lips, they lightly touch then drift apart as he makes his way to her ******* and hips. the time is not urgent there's no wasted efforts, every inch of her skin he greets with a kiss, as a hungry lion studies his prey not a single sound made, nor morsel missed. seductively firm he leads her to ****** she honors his every wish and whim. knowing his every move leads to pleasure from pleasure to rapture time and again. as the moon crosses over making way for the day, and the star's disappear in the sun's early light. our lady awakens alone where she lay her mysterious lover is gone with the night…
0
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 12:00 PM UTC
the nestling
by rgpage in this late hour on a mid-august night the day's torturous heat now just a trace. with heaven's dark sky splattered star light bright and with the moon's help, how they now illuminate. naked to the night on a blanket she waits from a crystal flute she sips her wine. its acrid taste makes her body brace, and her silky skin to shine. our lady awaits anticipates the night of love to be, she's made her nest in secluded style away from prying eyes, alone in the night she patiently waits for her lover to arrive. her warm body bathes in the evening breeze eyes closed she lets her fingers roam, her half-erect ******* she'll gently squeeze 'til engorged with blood they flush fully grown. laying a hand to her most sensitive spot the cradle of life's onset if you will, her first finger eases itself into place, and deftly a second does follow. slowly and softly in clockwise rotation wishing it were her lover's trace; the effect was good with her hip's gentle motion her soul now wrapped in silk and lace. with quiet stealth on an old forest path her mate breaks out of the tall trees cover, spotting his sensual prey's silhouette naked and silent he slips toward his lover. feeling his presents her eyes slightly open towering above her as tall as the trees, she sees her muscular handsome young swain in time to see him drop to his knees. leaning in he gives her soft kiss' his hand tracks her ******* with a gentle lover's mirth, slowly and gently he brings her along, with a touch as soft as a feather's fall to earth. reaching forth and touching his face and gently pulling him down to her lips, they lightly touch then drift apart as he makes his way to her ******* and hips. the time is not urgent there's no wasted efforts, every inch of her skin he greets with a kiss, as a hungry lion studies his prey not a single sound made, nor morsel missed. seductively firm he leads her to ****** she honors his every wish and whim. knowing his every move leads to pleasure from pleasure to rapture time and again. as the moon crosses over making way for the day, and the star's disappear in the sun's early light. our lady awakens alone where she lay her mysterious lover is gone with the night…
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54
by rgpage man has a desire for eternal life; a life in length compared to that of the stars in the sky, forever lasting. not a lonely vigil as the stars with their solemn silent watch in the dark void of space, but a life filled with earthly human pleasures. the pleasures of the soft silk like touch of a woman's flesh, and a faint whisper of ecstasy in an unguarded moment of the heart. if eternal bliss cannot be granted then let death overtake at the moment of ******
0
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 3:11 AM UTC
eternal bliss
by rgpage In this quiet time of night, I lie alone and prey to the bitter pain of joy's absence. Lost in my mind's shallow thoughts the sharp fragments of happy memories since shattered ***** at the sensitive fringes of my sleep. Sleep: Nature's sanctuary A quiet haven, an island set apart from the daily consciousness of life where my thoughts may at last run free. An island with white sandy shores as far as the eye can see. Blemished only by my solitary figure walking the blue water's edge. And the forests of my paradise, their deep green density gives substance to my world. Often I stop to ponder their far reaching greenness. The warm subtle breeze carrying the fragrance of this foliage across my face, fills my nostrils with the pleasures of nature. And occasionally a gull overhead, drifting unchallenged on the soft warm currents of the azure, as free in his world as I in mine; lends companionship. All of the sudden in the beat of a heart, from no where a large black cloud appears to smother the sun's warm light, turning the blue sky and green foliage black and the white sand that I once walked upon a cold gray. And just ahead of me lying there in death's humiliation, my winged companion; soaked and scorned at the dark water's edge. I awaken: This cold room and bed the greatest part of my conscious moment, and the sound of a distant train bell mocking the destruction of my comfort; its havoc upon my sleep done it now moves on. Saddened I once again wade through the shallow bogs of my loneliness, and the pains of memories of the love and life i'd wasted return. This painful sleepless night a most cruel retribution for my past. So firmly entrenched it seems I may never return to my paradise; yet remain in this cold room to suffer the long night's tortures. Returning: The warm sunlight, and gentle caress of the water's pulse upon the white sand. And overhead my pure white friend again drifts on the warm currents of air, heralding not my return but praising my presence.... ...for my presence alone, gives life to this warm yet oh so precariously balanced paradise. The white beach with its warm sand leads me on my journey to the morning, as I walk the blue water’s edge.
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Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 12:22 PM UTC
The Blue Water's Edge
by rgpage In this quiet time of night, I lie alone and prey to the bitter pain of joy's absence. Lost in my mind's shallow thoughts the sharp fragments of happy memories since shattered ***** at the sensitive fringes of my sleep. Sleep: Nature's sanctuary A quiet haven, an island set apart from the daily consciousness of life where my thoughts may at last run free. An island with white sandy shores as far as the eye can see. Blemished only by my solitary figure walking the blue water's edge. And the forests of my paradise, their deep green density gives substance to my world. Often I stop to ponder their far reaching greenness. The warm subtle breeze carrying the fragrance of this foliage across my face, fills my nostrils with the pleasures of nature. And occasionally a gull overhead, drifting unchallenged on the soft warm currents of the azure, as free in his world as I in mine; lends companionship. All of the sudden in the beat of a heart, from no where a large black cloud appears to smother the sun's warm light, turning the blue sky and green foliage black and the white sand that I once walked upon a cold gray. And just ahead of me lying there in death's humiliation, my winged companion; soaked and scorned at the dark water's edge. I awaken: This cold room and bed the greatest part of my conscious moment, and the sound of a distant train bell mocking the destruction of my comfort; its havoc upon my sleep done it now moves on. Saddened I once again wade through the shallow bogs of my loneliness, and the pains of memories of the love and life i'd wasted return. This painful sleepless night a most cruel retribution for my past. So firmly entrenched it seems I may never return to my paradise; yet remain in this cold room to suffer the long night's tortures. Returning: The warm sunlight, and gentle caress of the water's pulse upon the white sand. And overhead my pure white friend again drifts on the warm currents of air, heralding not my return but praising my presence.... ...for my presence alone, gives life to this warm yet oh so precariously balanced paradise. The white beach with its warm sand leads me on my journey to the morning, as I walk the blue water’s edge.
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51
by rgpage as children sunrise always brought a new day   and war was a game young boys would play. no thought given to the dark tunnel traveled no thought given when tomorrow comes today.    with the  dark nights  clear stars sparkled bright     in our younger day when in parks we’d play. no thought given to the dark tunnel traveled no thought given  when tomorrow comes today. as we grew older to the prime of life and war was a game politicians would play. no thought given to the pain and strife , and no thought given when tomorrow comes today. poised and  proud on foreign shore, protecting the slight , weak and waned. a young soldier  waits  his turn at war with no thought given when tomorrow comes today. a rifle cracks and  the young man falls his blood turns to mud in the filth where he lay. his comrades fight his final call, with no thought  given when tomorrow comes today. at home an anxious family waits, not knowing at all (for they weren’t there) to see him fall. their thoughts turn now  to the dark tunnel  traveled, and wondered what it means when tomorrow comes today.
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Dec 4, 2011
Dec 4, 2011 at 1:18 PM UTC
when tomorrow comes today
by rgpage   the days of age are finally here and me now old with body cold, my life has come a struggle. our children now grown and out on their own. with their children to guide from trouble. yes the time is fall the sky is grey, the leaves are red and gold. the seasons parse our waning days much shorter now, as we continue growing old. my wife I see, not old like me in the course of the many years. her supple skin magnetic smile my memories of her youth so clear. my thoughts go back through numerous years our children then were small, to friends then lost with all our tears in youthful days, i see them one and all. back then no thoughts of getting old. no worrying about a future maze . we couldn’t see through a foggy haze, we lived our days so bold. the days of age we didn’t know nor did we give them thought. we were young and life was fun we didn’t see reality’s sting, or think that we’d ever be caught. the days of age are upon us now life’s circle almost complete. with family and friends that have gone on ahead we’ll see them again when we meet.
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Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 6:17 AM UTC
the days of age
by rgpage you live in a world which you don’t know sheltered by your host’s resolve, to keep a place of love’s warm glow where all ‘round you revolves. like a pedestal queen you’re held on high in a world all of my own. a world of warmth for you and i and love you have never known. this is the way this world must be, a world of love’s perfect touch; for reality holds another for me whom i love and care for as much. a woman who gave of her body and soul and youth in good times and sad. the one that i love yet cannot protect when human frailties turn bad. (yes) safe in this place of soft flowing grace from realities out stretched hands, never to want from life’s hectic pace nor cry from hope’s ill-fated plans. to my wife i give of my life all that i humanly can. now age and life’s strain have claimed their fare share, leaving little with which to plan. yet returning to you in most private of time free from life’s flesh grinding grip. naked and young we caress and arouse and share in young love’s perfect trip. my hope is you’ll read this humblest of script for there is no more i can do; to tell you aloud would dash our whole world and more over mean losing you.
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Dec 4, 2011
Dec 4, 2011 at 9:07 AM UTC
fantasy
by rgpage I never cried in viet nam, I  just seemed to take it in. The missing limbs and twisted flesh friends one day and gone the next. Was I too young to understand? And need someone to take my hand? No mother there to hold my hand               no father there to teach me ways. To lead me through the day by days. Just left alone, and alone I stayed Instead I found my bottle friend to stay my tears and hide my fears. Back then “charley” felt they owned the night. With blusterous thud the mortars hit, Of saying hi it was “charley’s” way then to be my friend by day. From no where came the dragon ship, and tipping his left wing as a polite executioner saluting his victim just before unleashing hell. W/ firery tongue lapping up the earth while mini-guns roared, eagerly devouring all living things, leaving “charley” w/ no where to run. All clear, a small visit w/ my bottle friend and back to sleep in the alcohol deep. I was no John Wayne, I didn’t fight the war a target yes for “charley’s” sights when the sun gave way to night. But no, I didn’t fight. I never cried glossary: Charley=VC=viet cong=enemy: by day he acted like any of  the population, some were even employed around the various bases. But at sundown he would turn… Dragonship=C-47=2 or 3 several barreled mini-guns mounted on left side of the plane capable of firing a few 1000 rounds per minute each w/ a phosphorous round placed at every 6th round a tracer. At night this made it look like a steady stream of fire coming from the plane, hence the name “dragon ship” or “puff the magic dragon.” To aim the pilot had to dip his left wing and fly in a counter clock wise fashion. Very effective weapon… Written for a special friend A.S.
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Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 12:00 PM UTC
I Never Cried
by rgpage I never cried in viet nam, I  just seemed to take it in. The missing limbs and twisted flesh friends one day and gone the next. Was I too young to understand? And need someone to take my hand? No mother there to hold my hand               no father there to teach me ways. To lead me through the day by days. Just left alone, and alone I stayed Instead I found my bottle friend to stay my tears and hide my fears. Back then “charley” felt they owned the night. With blusterous thud the mortars hit, Of saying hi it was “charley’s” way then to be my friend by day. From no where came the dragon ship, and tipping his left wing as a polite executioner saluting his victim just before unleashing hell. W/ firery tongue lapping up the earth while mini-guns roared, eagerly devouring all living things, leaving “charley” w/ no where to run. All clear, a small visit w/ my bottle friend and back to sleep in the alcohol deep. I was no John Wayne, I didn’t fight the war a target yes for “charley’s” sights when the sun gave way to night. But no, I didn’t fight. I never cried glossary: Charley=VC=viet cong=enemy: by day he acted like any of  the population, some were even employed around the various bases. But at sundown he would turn… Dragonship=C-47=2 or 3 several barreled mini-guns mounted on left side of the plane capable of firing a few 1000 rounds per minute each w/ a phosphorous round placed at every 6th round a tracer. At night this made it look like a steady stream of fire coming from the plane, hence the name “dragon ship” or “puff the magic dragon.” To aim the pilot had to dip his left wing and fly in a counter clock wise fashion. Very effective weapon… Written for a special friend A.S.
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34
by rgpage Beautiful rain, so life giving where it needs it most.  My spirit glides through the beautiful rain,  refreshing my thirsty soul, extinguishing hell’s fire that sometimes got to close. The Lord won’t let me burn when my frightened soul cries out for forgiveness. Please cover my friends as the wide scope of your beautiful rain clouds sit over my head and stretch out to protect my friends and family…thank you Lord…rgp
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Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 5:45 PM UTC
Rainy Days
by rgpage lonely is this life i live i am the first son of death. this lonely life he gave to me when first i drew my breath. i walk this earth without my kin for he is in another life. i live on earth in mortal sin and leave his world in strife. even now i see his life the molten fires of hell. the darkened heat and cries of fear, and the devil's laughter as well. and through the void of time i hear a voice cry out in anguished vent. as our father draws so near “repent dear God, repent.” for me this life goes oh so fast at times i have no goal, but accomplishments will always last for this brother of mine my soul.
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May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 3:22 PM UTC
death's two sons
by rgpage bundled in your favorite rags protected from the world to see, as cautious as a newborn now, i carry you to your rest to be. my thoughts drift back to happier times you filled our lives w/ joy. i fight back tears of sorrow now, my strength a weakened ploy. you slipped away in quiet sleep as peaceful as your air. your loving nature’s replaced with now, death’s lonely tranquil stare. a large piece of our hearts' you took, when since you slipped away. at pictures now we can only look at a happier time, in a happier day. we’ll see you in some future time   when the Good Lord calls us home, across the rainbow bridge you’ll run happy, well and whole….
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May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 4:19 PM UTC
lexi (our little pomeranian)
by rgpage together with my thoughts at last i sit alone and wonder why. i lived so loosely in the past that now all hopes in life must die. in youth i carried goals to be with all the power that i had then. the skies were blue and cloudless seas and every day would bring new friends. as i grew older love would fade for this life so richly lived. my thoughts of friends would soon abate as would the trust in them i’d give. the skies turned dark and threatened rain and so for shelter my soul would run. caring not who’s in my way caring only now to see the sun. the bellies of the clouds turned black i stood alone to face my fate. the fear went surging down my back i looked for help some open gate. the doors all closed from my own deeds i’d slighted people in the past. no one was there in time of need so alone i faced this foe at last. death did not come to my surprise although my soul was scarred by rain. i looked up toward the clearing skies in hopes of life to start again. the skies did clear and life i’d find i lived again for friends i yearned. i relived youth but for a time until those clouds of rain returned. those lonely clouds why do they come what is this life that i must live? why can’t there only be the sun and why  can’t trust i always give?
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Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 10:20 PM UTC
clouds
by rgpage when i look around this place its antiquated beds and halls, and hearing sounds that old age brings the sounds of sadness through the walls. and glancing into weary eyes which stare ahead in planted gaze. i wonder what story there in lies a story in which they lived their days. now at last they're all alone alone because they have no place no place that they can call their own no children now to show their love. yes lives now spent and youth gone past their silver hair and faces red, this lonely life they live at last and roam these halls until they're dead. old and crippled a man now lies a cruel way for life to end. to stay this way until he dies in dim lit room void of friends. quietly now a woman sits her spouse and children long since gone. to do no more but wait her turn of when her lonely life is done. a sorrow touches felt by all of knowing that the end is near, there's those awaiting final call a call to death which few do fear...
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Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 6:05 PM UTC
nursing home
by rgpage nuzzled tightly to his chest she quietly begs him stay, her gentle touch  along his arms says ‘please my love don’t go away.’ her soft lips tenderly touch his mouth with kisses as warm as a summer’s eve. wrapping her tightly in his arms he lets her know that he won’t soon leave. staring wistfully into each other’s eyes as busy fingers silently toil, garments loosened and cast aside, as eager love’s longing begins its slow boil. taking their time and guarding their urges not letting this passion’s moment be lost. to inner emotions brought to a boil so often the payment of love’s urgent cost. with muscles taut he draws her near while inner butterflies stretch their wings. naked bodies as yet unexplored   a course is set toward splendorous things. kissing, caressing, an **** of motion his fingertips track her silky soft skin. his huge hands gently cupping her ******* embarked on an evening of beautiful sin. with a look in her eyes of a young lover’s trance her hands glide o’er his youthful frame.         in time  fingers find their way to their mark his desire’s aroused in love’s youthful game.     to bed now they go with its cool sheets waiting they’ve said that they’ll know when the time is right.    supporting her frame as he lowers her down for them their time’s now as their bodies unite.
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Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 6:42 AM UTC
young love stay
by rgpage with each day i wonder why i live in dreams without end. why my life is slipping by and why my life is without friends. in solitude i feel the pains i feel the pains of life so deep. for comfort needing all in vain to end each day in drunken sleep. absorbed by fear and left alone alone by choice of self denial. tired of people sick of home yet needing a friend and a friendly smile. confused at life not knowing why i feel the tolerance of others near. who grasp at my moods as they streak by yet shy from them in hopeless fear. my conscience gone and soul decayed torn from youth wasteful of friends, a voice inside cries out afraid, afraid at last of an empty end....
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Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 10:25 PM UTC
Untitled