The Fourth of Anytime

Contemplating the fourth of anytime
in that empty room
somewhere between here and there
ready and waiting
as I am for you
hungering for your touch
longing to feel your body
pressing , molding to mine.

 

Keenly sensing your warmth
Your strength – innate power
Long known inner signposts
guide our lips , our fingers
skimming, probing,
caressing, demanding,
plunging, drowning
finding, losing.

 

Focusing, forgetting
Our world distilled as trembling sensation
Building, seeking the limits
Bursting through imaginary fences
Carrying us to new realms
Clinging, crying out
Destiny realized
In this lifetime.

Culture Clash

Trembling, tear stained
choking on doubts
afraid to sleep
demons lying in wait
taunting her for a fool
chiding her for every well earned tear
laughing at her delusions.

no kick ass bounce back dime a dozen old news with it graduate of the love ‘em and leave ‘em school of romance,
culture shock overtaking a late bloomer,
upright and ignorant,
acquiring new vocabulary,
emotions overwhelming inbred propriety, rational civility, well honed modesty

Misplaced passions escaping the iron bars of habitual morality;
stored and forgotten, left to ripen, savoring freedom,
generating their own brand of courage and strength
abandoning common wisdom for the uncommon illogical magnetic pull
of forbidden love in faraway places,

Desire fueled by desire, emotion trumping reality, surreal,
the stuff of mid day soaps, bosom baring paperback novels
and Shakespearean tragedy.

(c) The Spirit of the Goddess Minerva

2014

 

Autumn Memories and Magical Threads

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The magic continues
The spinner weaves a fragile thread
Taken to tangles and knots
Requiring a gentle patient touch.

We are connected by a magical thread.
Sometimes the filament frays –
when confusion clouds the perception of action or inaction.
Tenuous attachments attract uncertainty.

Fantasy, illusion, dreams – all is good –
Reality is often hard pressed to keep pace with the mind’s alternative universe.
Especially when that universe is shared
with the embodiment of remembered yearning.

A vivid memory of crisp breezes carrying wispy scent of hearth and embers.
Dusk falling rapidly as I briskly walked the few blocks home –
dodging puddles and reveling – charging through piles of crunchy maple leaves
randomly adorning the sidewalk.

Utter joy with the sensory symphony –
for the moment tenuously overriding
the swell of angst rising from my depths.
A nameless yearning. Strong sense of something missing.

Feeling such a longing to reach out and touch
the someone who was striving to do the same from parts unknown.
Continuing my walk home and
turning my thoughts to the evening’s planYet, down deep inside knowing that the longing would continue,
the vague sense of disquiet would go unappeased.
Until the shadows took on form emerging from the hidden realm
and the wonder of recognition became reality.

Love – The Inadequacies of a Word

 

…..love….

 

a totally inadequate word

for this passion that rages;

outpacing each obstacle

tossed in its path

 

for the unimaginable depths of feeling

welling up unbidden

overcoming guarded habits

of a lifetime.

 

for the fierce unwillingness to bow to reason

rendering demographics meaningless

by overriding time and space

to meet in another dimension.

 

longing to be free of the earthly pull

to tear off restraints –

overwhelmed by the sheer joy

that lifts my spirit to the heavens

 

yearning for moments yet to come

to touch your lips, to gaze into your eyes

to feel your breath warm my cheek

Our hearts beat in perfect unison.