a lifetime
thinking it over
all the joys
the sadness
imprinting generations
building our strength
3/5/3/3/7/5 Shadorma Poetry
***
Nothing like a box Chevy (during a rebuild), booze, old country music and big brother’s barn on a Friday night. Baby, Middle and Red claiming seats as big brother chuckles. None of us would have it any other way. I love when we get together and laugh over ourselves.
Everyone’s version of our story is a little different, but oh we four see it the same… I love’em!
to properly express
the blue i see,
would only
cause worry.
so tonight,
i refuse. You
become the poet,
my harvest sky
your muse.
sing of sweetest sorrow
your passion enduringly true
confide and scurry along our path
sparrow, your work is rarely through
come covered in autumn’s colors,
bits adorning, of where you flew
where have you been, my love
and will our walk continue
Haven’t checked in with you for awhile, you’ve been busy. It’s time to see how you are, dear one. With you, even a thorough inquiry will leave a lot left untouched, but we’ll do what we can.
Be honest with yourself.
Let me pretend we’re in love.
*I took this photo on a whim while riding the cograil to Pike’s Peak. I like how the lake view resembles a heart. Lucky break.
you
you remind
you remind me
you remind me of,
you remind me of what?
you remind me of what existed,
you remind me of what existed once.
winter is coming
feel his fingers
slide
down, across and
through, I remind
myself.
frost, yes,
changes
how he’d feel on me.
I mustn’t forget
my soul hums
in autumn’s breeze.
Allow me to pretend,
he’d feel like magic
with flawed skin,
an usually infectious
laugh and grin.
I’d be reminded
I am enough
over and over again,
and then loved
as if I were
his very own.
my obedience
recognize I am for you
servant awakens
perfect blush
across her body,
at first glance
rubble, her surroundings.
she claims her fate,
flourished in yesterday’s lush
and settled where she lay.
map of her journey
located only
on delicate fair skin,
in hot pink scars,
and yet, somehow,
you find her
audacious.
reflections of self
causes me to see
I’m not her
will never be.
fairytale lesson
heard, and told again
and again,
little girl, listen!
full skirt of amerillo,
beauty incomparable
obvious,
she’s Belle
and he: her beast
there is no you
in their story.
I am still
cerulean water,
born of dawn’s
prowess,
with my ability
to move ferocious,
withheld,
I can feel you
surround me.
Breath on my neck,
slight pressure
upon my shoulder blades
as my body bends
submitting.
I defy self-control
and react
internally, your
presence caressing,
my ache aglow.
I’m left to attempt,
waves lapping,
freely,
instead of
the embodiment
of quaver. This
my transformation
into deliquesce.
The way you approach
In full confidence
Steady control
Centers me
An ability to sense
Where I’m at emotionally
By simply patrolling
Around me
Knowing you’re near
A presence about you
I cling to automatically
With nothing to fear
As if exploration of my mind
Is what you desire
What sets me apart
And yours to admire
The mastery used
Absolutely nothing to prove
Leaves me yearning
Spinning, as I watch
Fantastic ability surrounds
Every thought, every sound
My body reacts
Easily
Your offer, often powerful
Soothes my soul
Leaves me adored
Until next time
numb, these days
a place shadows play
in, around, atop me
quiet in many avenues
normal, they venture –
but her smile is missing
nothing out of place,
music sounds the same
yet, heart ceased
wind tastes different,
I wander,
never truly breathe
Are opposites attracted,
As those before us would say,
or can two identical souls
make it work in the most
beautiful of ways
to end up in love,
Once their pain has washed away,
To possibly meet,
Another time, another place.
****
I love everything Marc sings, and this song is no exception.
My thoughts and prayers go out to Houston on a repeat and rewind constant motion. Music helps keep my mind on something else for awhile.
This song requires, low light, a glass of something strong, and a fantastic slow lead by a strong arm, bending as it wraps around my waist.
Takes the rest of the world away…
the curl of her slinder fingers
as they wrap around
and back behind.
growing,
in the warmth you vastly provide.
straining lavender and honeyed,
fluent flora’s pedigree,
subtle urges for her not to hide,
bestowed.
yet, wearing forlorn, it would seem
nature’s simple tone
words weaving throughout my soul
he already knows
if it were permitted: a luxury of my own doing
I would escort you
into my womb
allow you to discern upon
where you so expertly travel
point to where you linger
taking ownership
of my most sacred bounds
Oldest Daughter & Red Headed Sister 