Mom

she is no super hero,
but she sure can fly

she grows her own roots,
even when the soil’s dry

she puts you forever first,
and holds you when you cry

she believes with all her heart,
that succees is when you try

she feels your every heartache,
as if through her own eye

she celebrates your joys,
her spirit soaring high

she savors your successes,
which money just can’t buy

all she hopes for is your smile,
for that’s what makes her fly

-art by Gustav Klimt; Happy Mother’s Day!, dedicated to my dearest friends, who are the most amazing mothers 💜

The Neck Kiss

the neck kiss,
it has but one purpose, 
one delicious, erotic design

it conveys desire,
lust, love, want

it makes a woman weak in the knees, 
like only this kiss can

it fuels her, consumes her, 
dominates her

make them soft,
like the tips of wings

open your mouth and make them wet, 
like enticing drops of rain

use your teeth and nibble, bite, 
taste her, devour her, 
exhaust her

-Image via Tenor

Roadmap

some would look at me through 
eyes clouded with sadness and sorrow,
ones filled with fear, really

some would say I’m made 
of wrinkles and lines,
no longer black and white,
just a ghost of gray,
a shadow of who I once was,
awaiting the day when I whisper
my last breath

yes, I see the wrinkles and the lines,
but I see a roadmap,
a face weathered by experience,
a life chartered amidst joy and sorrow,
compassion and pain,
heartache and bliss,
sunshine and thunderstorm

I see a body that no longer works 
as it used to, and never will,
but I see legs that climbed mountains,
arms that hugged until they could not,
hands that built and tore down
and built again,
and a heart that beat so loudly,
I had to share its overflow 
with others

I see a worn woman,
but it’s not through saddened eyes
that I look

for, I fear not,
because I see in these wrinkles and lines
and in this tired body,
all the places I have been,
the people I have touched,
and those who will remain
a part of me, 
forever a key in my legend

I see hope and love, 
more alive than it’s ever been

and that will long outlast 
this roadmap

-image via Women’s New Network

Bleed

it’s said we bleed the things 
we love the most

all I can think about
is the way you sneak behind me
in the kitchen and squeeze me into you, 
nuzzling your face into my neck,
whispering sweet and naughty
phrases as your whiskers tickle,
giving me goosebumps 

the way you tuck me in at night,
pulling the covers up just how I like them,
smoothing the white duvet, 
tucking it over my exposed shoulder
so I don’t get cold, 
then crawling in to mold your body 
around mine

the way you watch me when I don’t know 
you’re watching, 
and I look up, meeting your gaze unexpectedly,
only to see that expression on your face
that still gives me butterflies,
the look in your eyes saying much more 
than words ever could

the way we laugh till our bellies hurt, 
and cry free tears,
our emotions free to be exactly 
what they are

the way you exude appreciation 
and gratitude

the way you make me feel 
safe and wanted,
protected and adored

the way you make me feel 
like I am exactly where 
I belong 

if we bleed the things we love most,
then surely I bleed 
you 

-image via Pixabay

Invasion

pitter patter
clack-clicking
‘cross the floor
evil tricking

teeth gnawing
scratching incessant
can’t be still
another second

chasing silent
am I crazy?
did I just hear it?
my head is hazy

waiting game
tickety-tock
round and round and round
the clock

upon the ceiling
in the walls
fast and furious
down the halls

tiny monsters
sharp and hairy
invading, invading
my sanctuary

GET OUT, GET OUT
PLEASE, GO AWAY
YOU’RE ALL I HEAR
EVERY MINUTE OF THE DAY

I thought you’d vanished
welcome back…
aren’t you famished?
how ’bout a snack?

~Image credit dreamstime.com

The Forest


I’m lost in a forest of the tallest trees, inundated with wickedly bent, sinister trunks, and thicket so dense my feet can barely move, the air damp and heavy, sitting like rocks in my lungs.

Swiping and slashing, I claw at the overgrowth’s sharpness, aching to lift my legs and move, grasping for vines that might save me. Yet, I don’t want to be saved, exactly. I crave absolution.

On tattered, tired, and bended knees, I offer you a ridged branch, begging for penance, desperate for your command, yearning for you to envelope me in the shelter of your palm.

Help me be my vine.

And then I wonder, how heavy is that staff? Is the weight just too much?

You answer, you deliver. You take and give, give and take. With each conviction, a little of you infiltrates me, suffocating the darkness, penetrating every fiber of muscle, saturating each porous bone, filling and filling until you seep up through every follicle and pore, spilling out and bending to my every contour, forming a shield upon my flesh that no thorn can puncture.

Now, I can weave my vine, with threads of you in the center, the strength in its core.

Together we can conquer; we can see the forest though the trees.

-image via Pixabay

Stardust

illuminated by the heavens,
I stood, gazing at the night,
the cool stillness surrounding me,
as shadowed limb’s impossible angles reached to the gods,
in reverence,
some leaning above me, protectively,
as if nature herself
was guarding me,
making significant my connection
to the sacred ground
beneath my feet

only when I felt you drawing near,
was my focus averted,
suddenly, sensing you all around,
enveloping me,
penetrating my depths,
a familiar pulling,
your stardust soul,
from afar trying to gather
the dust of mine,
desperate to shelter
it’s innocent sparkle

naturally, my body
gravitated toward yours,
the arch of my back,
the curve of my hips,
the bend in each and every muscle had become the outline
of your silhouette

my life line longed
to be rooted to yours,
just as the tree above me
was rooted to Mother Earth,
and she to the heavens above

my breathing slowed
as we merged, syncing to yours,
time’s passing stopped,
my chest’s rise against your arms
the only tangible evidence
of earthly life

behind my closed eyelids
danced a kaleidoscope of light,
stardust joining stardust,
one collective soul

my body had attained
memory of you,
but our souls had
achieved much more,
and I knew we’d gained something
only the spirits are privy to

Prince

An icon of epic proportion;
Unafraid of social distortion.
With moves better than Jagger,
And a voice with such swagger;
Purple Rain in my veins is a’ coursin’!

-image credit thoriumwealth.com

* limerick created as part of Mind and Life Matters’ limerick challenge, rain