Tag: Creative Writing

Work in Progress

So this morning I finally sat down and began to work on something that may or may not be bigger than what I initially intended. I do not get to write/post the way I would like, but my mind is always coming up with new things to jot down.

Once I have gotten the main idea of this current piece I’m working on, I will share it with you all! Take care until then!

Persistence

Let the chips
Fall where chance
And gravity willed
His love for her
Was warm and persistent, cool
And kind like a beverage chilled
Forbidden by time and
Circumstance,
He confessed heartfelt emotions
Amidst so much commotion, and
Though slowed down, his love
Lumbered with locomotion.
-SpKn

Inconspicuous

Tears welled up
Behind copacetic eyes
All smiles and high fives
Yet inside there’s a man who
Just wants to cry and hide
From these ugly dark things, he
Can’t help but feel
Are they made up or can it be
These emotions are real?
Is all love lost, or with effort can
His heart be healed?
Tears stay stuck behind those battered
Eyes
His heart yells silently, stuck here
He knows he’ll die violently.
-SpkN

Eloquent Kisses

Ever so eloquent you stand with your back to me
Quick as a kitten, silent as a whisper
I entangle you in a warm embrace, my lips attack your neck
You push against me, melting into the strength of my arms.
My lips finish their gentle assault and softly
I say, “I love you.”

Cold Moon

Thanksgiving still hung in the crisp cold air. Voices escaped from behind closed doors, chimneys puffed into the night sky. Macaroni and cheese, yams, something a little burnt—stuffing maybe. The aromas struck his nose as familiar, minus the burnt tinge affectingthe air. A warm feeling flooded his soul as he thought of the joy each home must have been filled with the day prior. He wondered if each dwelling was packed tight like sardines.

His footsteps fell hard on cold concrete—it felt different than in the summer. Not that it was any softer, but maybe, slightly quieter. A few other unfamiliar faces were out milling about; he was just glad to be out on this crisp night, even if he was only walking to the supermarket down the street. Hands shoved in coat pockets, keenly alert of all around him, he took in the beauty of the moon, her fullness and intensity.

-SpKn

Dinner Party Pt 1

Her breath quickened. At the table with friends, boldly his hand rested between her thighs. He could feel the heat emanating from her delicate flower. “Hey, Felicia, how did that project…” she took a deep breath as his hand now began massaging her most private place. “Um, ooh, yeah um how did that project work out for you?” Felicia began describing the ups and downs of a budget crisis at her job while Denise’s friend continued his game.
Leaning over she whispered seductively, “You have no idea what you are doing.” Rob stopped. “Meet me upstairs in the bathroom.” She excused herself. Moments later Rob’s phone rang, “Yeah sure, uh, I’ll be right there. Hey guys, um, I’m going to go check on Denise, she said she’s not feeling well.”
“Oh no, is she ok?” Carol asked.
“She said she was feeling hot all over,” Rob smirked. Once upstairs he closed the door to the bathroom. “Fuck me, right now!” Their lips met violently as Rob slid his hands under skirt moving her thong out of the way. “Turn around,” he said aggressively, pushing her over the sink.
Rob shoved himself into her sex with force, causing a hungry groan to slip through her delicate lips. “This feels so good, but its not good,” Denise panted. Rob knew what she was referring to, but neither one of them was willing to stop. “Do it, go head baby.” She could tell he was close. With their friends downstairs, Rob grunted and convulsed, pumping his friend with his seed. “Splash some water on your face,” and back downstairs they went, his cum dripping into her already damp underwear.
“Hey girl, are you ok?”
“Oh, yes, now I am. Rob helped me cool off.”

-SpKn

Axed

I am finally alone and in my head. Like looking around a room with familiar walls but unfamiliar furnishings. I do not know these thoughts. This is my space, I should feel at home instead of a lost voyager drowning in a sea of unspoken creativity.
It is a stuffy place to be, with no mirrors to show reflections of me, no windows to let in what I need to breathe. How can this be? Who took an ax to the root(s) of my tree—I had named her Life and Longevity.
I want to tell you world, that I turned 32 today, but no leaves of reflection can fall, this breeze sneaking through my window, tickling my toes, melodies cascading through my headphones—yeah I am 32 today, and for the first time in quite a while I am in my dome, reshuffling, reclaiming it as my own.