The Fog

THE FOG

The Fog
The fog was alive in November
The time when we remembered.
It was a Sunday night,
And the man in the eccentric clothes never walked his dog.
No one could have known,
That the temperature had been just right.
That the birds were softening their sight.
As the mist began to grow
Only one house had laughter within it.
Piercing the street with sounds only lovers could make.
The hypnotic dance had begun,
Echoing and enchanting not just one.
Two young moonflowers unfurled in the dim haze.
Trumpeting their petals, swaying only with each other.
Circulating was the thick cloud, as if searching for her mother.
And just then, consciousness became her.
Delighting was the chant of the silent whisperer.
The twirling new blossoms inhaled the ancient world.
Recalling, enthralling,
The Earth was still somehow revolving.
But there was no proof,
The Bible should have written this.
The flowers were sighing
As the air started drying.
Only the smell of cinnamon remains in the empty field.
The field where significance once sat.

I’m A Sucker For True Love

I'M A SUCKER FOR TRUE LOVE

There are so many flavors of love.  There is the kind of love that comforts you, like watching a puppy rummage around in the dirt and roll on his side and sneeze his snout into the grass.  There is the type of love that heals you – when you are tired, or sad and you are given a hug so warm and gentle you can breathe and let your shoulders fall.  There is another kind of love that excites and sends tingles from your fingertips to your toes.  And then yet another, there is a love that is so infinite it’s like staring at the ocean, mesmerized at the expansiveness of the horizon, making you question how far the human eye can see.

I understood the tingly love, boys are good at giving that.  It’s a physical love.  You feel butterflies and heat and inquiry.  But once the clothes are off and the lights are on, I would feel lonely. Not every time, not with everyone, but mostly I would feel it. A hint, a glisten, an underlying simmer of loneliness.

I was searching for the love I had been promised by childhood movies.  The love that would wake me from my forever sleep.  The one that would lift me up and guide me along the skyline on a carpet, or the one that would draw me “wearing this, and only this.” Let’s be real though, Titanic ruined all of us tweens for an actual dating life.  No one could compare to Leonardo DiCaprio as Jack Dawson.  Forever be still my heart.

However, I have.  I have found the type of love I had been seeking.  I have received all of the flavors, varieties, swirling colors and prismatic divinity anyone could dream of and the kinds I couldn’t even begin to dream of.  The kind of love that rips your heart apart and then puts it back together with a million new pieces.  The one that makes you want to discover new words, and then you realize that words are useless in the face of her beauty.  The kind of love that longs, and causes tears at the mere thought of a hug from their gentle, perfect arms.

A hopeless romantic, a loveaholic, an explorer for fate – my everything had been waiting.  And then, in the simplest form, as she effortlessly does – love appears.  Patience, faith, and openness lead me to her path. Once you are walking with her, and your fellow falling star, everything begins – just as it always had.

Today, on this gray and cloudy and cold morning, I am grateful for her kindness.  I am so glad love, in her grace, entered my life and taught me to smile in the way only she could make me smile.  And, I am just so damn curious to know… what my love feels like to him.

Okay Jack Dawson, I suppose I can let you go like the heart of the ocean.  I’ve found my own ship of dreams.

Divine
His eyes so confident,
Oh, how he seeks;
Like a wandering Sophophile.
Wise with no words to speak,
I want to be with him all of the while.

It’s a tragically ending ballet.
But I want him anyway.

I show him I’m his and wait out time;
Goodness is a choice and redemption is fine;
All things are clear but then turn on a dime.

Gentle release and then trapped in kind;
Two borrowed hulls endlessly intertwined.

It’s lawless.
Oh, how I break.
To feel the weight of gravity,
Selfishly and recklessly I want to take,
And feel him beside me.

Tell me it’s worth it, my moon and sunshine.
Tell me you want me some of the time.

Too-Personal Plane Poetry Pt. 2

TOO-PERSONAL PLANE POETRY PT. 2

Uncharted Territories
My hands are explorers,
my fingers chart sea routes along your wrists.
Before, I stood at a distance,
dipping my toes,
but now I adventure into
new uncharted territories.
My eyes, telescopes.
My lips caressing of your shoreline.
I want to travel into international waters.
Where there are no laws.
Where the waves peak.
Where I can taste your salt,
and the roughage of your break.
Desiring to be supported by your body
of water,
Cool my warm, basically naked, skin.

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.