Too-Personal Plane Poetry

TOO-PERSONAL PLANE POETRY

I am currently writing a response to the brave woman who responded to Ask Me Your Questions, Tell Me No Lies.  In the meantime, I’ve got some new poetry to share.  I’ve been on a recent business trip so I’ve been spending the last two days on planes to and from the west to east coast and back again.  Along these travels, I’ve been inspired to write a few new poems.  Surprisingly, for whatever reason the poems arising are a bit salacious in nature and likely too-personal to be writing on a plane (next to strangers).

Alas, when the mood strikes… I hope you all enjoy my first edition of “Too-Personal Plane Poetry.” (Hopefully, while also sitting next to strangers.)

The smell of you…
heavies my hurried heartbeat
and tickles down my spine.
Fingers spellbound to pull you into me,
an invitation I’ve yet to decline.

Dazed by the heat of your breath,
grazing of my lips on your ear.
Change my chemistry,
Raise my frequency,
Oh please, just keep me near.

Breathing is a rhythm now,
suddenly aware of the fullness of my breasts.
Your fingertips ice skate on my skin,
I daydream one will slip under my shirt,
just accidentally, momentarily, but I will let you in.

Can I breath a little deeper?
My lungs overflowing with you.
Melting of my muscles,
while others worship the fevered seduction of you.

Anchor in Time

ANCHOR IN TIME

Anchor in Time
We have our own universe;
the space between the lines,
in the breath before the words.
The ethos that connect reality and dreams,
the dusk and dawn
the attraction of night to day.
A magnetic haul that lingers in our ocean.
We hear your heartbeat in my hand.
We are lovers, artists, romantics,
Our intimacy is cinematic.
You are my home in the heavens
and I am grounding to your spaceship.
Sometimes I think you’re too good for me.
Other times I hear, “Well, aren’t you two just the same type.”
Our meditation is an anchor in time.
And my grateful heart now lives in a world previously unseen.
You are so beautiful.

I am only here to have met you.

Be here now.

FindingYourLightFromWithin

It could be from my husband’s absence (he’s a touring musician and has been gone for the past 6 months), it could be from my father’s passing, it could be from our recent move, our recent wedding, or any other living, breathing thing – but right now I’m floating.

Before therapy, a time like this would have me spinning.  I feel the impulse to have a head full of questions.  I used to beg the universe for answers.  I wanted so badly to understand why I was hurting, why I was shown so many paths in life if I was “stuck” on only one.  I used to bury myself so deep in fantasy versions of my life, the visions of timelines not yet lived, and other worlds I created that I would be so far removed from the present.  But not now. And I gotta say, it’s refreshing as hell.

Yeah, I’m confused.  I’m taken aback by my circumstances.  I wonder why my husband has lost his faith, I worry on how to talk to him about my heart aches with loving kindness, over the years I’ve felt tired and alone in my pursuit to feel joy, and I am uncertain about the future and what it holds – but isn’t all of this the best part?  Isn’t the unpredictability, the riskiness, the absurd and spirit of inquiry just so human?

Last night, the first primitive nuclei divided and created a new and separate nucleus.  No one knows how the first nuclei was formed, there have been many theories, but to my knowledge, there hasn’t been a definitive answer and last night, I witnessed the creation of the secondary universal nuclei.  The world split right in front of me – and in its beauty, and in its rapture, I was present.  My eyes were swollen with tears, my lungs overwhelmed with mist and my hands were sparking with magic.

We all have the answers, every answer, to every question ever asked.  I am floating in the translation of the word simplicity. I feel it in my fingertips, it sends shivers down my spine and causes goosebumps on my flesh.  I am human, I am here.

Titleless 
She was the only witness.
Only she heard my hunger.

And if it was that easy, she answered,
“Just you wait.”

Without hope, without need,
She drenched me in wonder.

Still frames projected behind my eyelids,
waves, the harmonic motion, stirring my source.

A lifetime with your touch, a life without your touch,
We danced with the line of collapsing time.

 

I Know You

skin

I Know You
I pulse with you under my skin.
Delicate hair stands up as I quiver when you think of me.
In secret, I have felt your wanting.
Left momentarily mad with desire,
my body engulfed in wildfire.
My fingertips write love letters on your neck,
my lips leave rose petals on your eyelids.
I am forgetful of everything but the tilt of your smile.
Will you hold me for two more minutes?

Primordial Artist

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Primordial Artist
The Macrocosm, my Mother.
She bore us and sang to us as children.
Her reminiscent and nostalgic wind still guides me home.
She is a true creature of creation.
The primordial artist.
Her imagination, the DNA,
Within every consciousness.
I want to love in a way that makes my Mother proud.
My muse, my maker,
I see your untranslatable scribes etched into my walls.
I hear your bird’s song.
Voiceless and wordless I impatiently await your lectures.
Show me your allegiance to life.

Radio Stations

Moonlit Skies

Radio Stations
I can feel your dreams and breath so heavy
like a child on a teeter-totter.
Trying to balance but the sway from floor to sky keeps beckoning.
Skin humming from the day,
sunshine still glowing in the warmth of your long, raven hair.
Muscles give way to the weight of the room,
A room filled with unease, unrest…
A love abounding with innocence,
wistfulness and all-encompassing.
Enough to blanket the starry ceiling
flickering around me like a shaken snow globe.
A familiar and frequent reverie.
You’re my favorite radio station.