Category: Poetry

Words of Days Past

Often one’s solitude

can be disrupted, polluted

by unnerving tumult.

Strong imperturbable mindsets

may dance around malarkey

of any one flibbertigibbet ,

who kyoodle only because they can

Yet it must be known-must be said,

that the scalawags (with their aloofness)

of society sometimes foment distractions

of the sort that plants seeds

of creative constipation.

-SpKn

Beautiful Belongings

Similes are pretty things-

flowers on a window sill of

a decrepit apartment building.

Metaphors move with violent

passion-

like a boxer dancing

in the ring.

Blue is cliché but

every color is pink.

Commas are the yellow

lights of literature

a semicolon’s shape

is a red-white

octagon.

Like butter on toast,

we belong together.

-SpKn

Contact

The touch, the feel of

your bare brown skin

against my rugged texturin’

lights a fire deep within.

From my soul comes fantastical

fiery images full of

pure passion and heart pounding

action as I taste you

and you taste me.

You are my forever fantasy.

Tantalizing seduction glistens

in your eyes.

At first contact we

can make love and let

our hearts surmise

the depths of the

surprise as our panting

turns to sights.

-SpKn

 

Noise

Soliloquies spoken in silent spaces mean

little until courage is gathered and uttered

upon the ears of unsuspecting faces.

Mindless mental chatter; words not spoken

taste of age apprehension–and thus hearts are broken.

Ferocious words offering opposition plant seeds of fear-

These soliloquies are meant for the world to hear.

 

-SpKn

Hidden

Soul crying out

from behind

red doors.

Nomadic heart beating

in dull clay upon the floor.

Winds sift the pages of life

quickly-the flesh feels oh so

old-but nowhere near fifty.

Darkened windows conceal

cold secrets but

cracked concrete reveals no conflicts.

-SpKn

I love mornings, especially predawn hours. It is then my mind can unwind, then I am settled. I have peace–with a cup of coffee in hand, once again I can realize my dreams, pray…I can pray honestly and earnestly. And on mornings like these, I can again write.

Shipping Out

“This could be my last day,” he said leaning in. She gazed up at him like a school girl would her crush, “Yes, but what if it isn’t? Then what?” He could see her breathing had increased as did his. They held each other with their eyes, sensuality coursing through their veins. “Then that’s a chance we take, at least it will be out of our system.” He leaned in and their lips met with passionate timidity. His arms gently crushed her into his chest, the kiss stealing the breath from her lungs. Their tongues danced and wrestled, their embrace electrifying. The kiss was broken as each felt the desire for something more, and they returned to their separate ways, thoughts loud with bewildered emancipation.

-SpKn