Wooden walls around a big kitchen,
a man in jeans and bare feet,
dinner is cooking and the wine is poured.
This is where I want to exist.
The room is my refuge,
the food is my sustenance,
but he is my home.
His fingers slowly graze my arm
and he reaches for my hand.
We sip our wine,
the conversation dwells on nothing
but never seems to stop.
The world outside of this moment
may continue to exist,
but my world is here,
in this moment,
with a man in jeans
and bare feet.
(photo credit: hdw.eweb4.com)
For the past few months, I have been inspired by the genius idea from one Mr. Edward Hotspur. He has encouraged us to write about romance, whether it is poetry, short fiction or a personal reflection. I love everything that romance embodies, but the posts I have written that were spurred on by the Monday challenge were all pulled from the vault of my memories, fond recollections or wishes for the future. My life, although loosely resembling a romantic comedy, currently contains no romance.
My daily existence does round out the rest of the requirements for the romantic comedy. I’ve got some unique personality traits that could create a funny story line, I’ve got some quirky friends that make an appearance every few episodes, I have a job that allows me some creative material and a dog that could steal the show.
Living in a small town doesn’t afford too many opportunities to stumble upon romance. I’ve caved a couple of times and tried online dating sites to see who may be lurking out there, but even the sights that promise to deliver matches based on specific traits that I have listed as important seem to fish in the shallow end of that dating pool. I’m amazed at some of the “matches” that are sent my way and the online romantic search ends before it really begins. Even though I have moments of bravery thinking I will give it another shot, I recall this experience and run, screaming, away from my laptop.
Although I’m fine being on my own, I find inspiration in the stories and poetry I read on this blog site written by strangers and by new friends. They are happy to shout their romantic thoughts and experiences and it makes me want to continue the quest for that ever elusive romance. The dream of him is still alive and I will continue to hold that dream close. If we don’t embrace the darkness, we will never be able to see the stars.
Another post for Edward Hotspur’s Romantic Monday
he covers me like a blanket
he wraps around my heart
as much as I pull and stretch his fabric
it never falls apart
he drapes over my shoulders
shielding me with his presence
warming every part of my being
comforting me with his essence
I fall into his softness
I feel safety in his shroud
I feel the heat beginning to burn
my murmurs breathed aloud
his touch rubs gently on my skin
every time is like the first
his voice falls like music on my ears
his groan a staccato burst
we lay together, wrapped again
his arms provide the veil
keeping me warm, keeping me safe
his blanket will never fail
Edward Hotspur’s Romantic Monday always seems to bring out the poet in me.
The heat of his touch sent shivers as he traced the curve of her spine.
The lasting sensation of the tingling desire, never would leave her mind.
The softness of his lips on hers, the warm sweet smell of his breath,
the longing look in his deep blue eyes, the sensual feel of his caress.
He moves with her in a rhythm like the waves upon the sea,
seeming to be one, and yet, what one can never be.
He explores her soul, for which it seems, is paired with his alone,
on a journey of erotic pleasures, to a destination unknown.
The intensity of his closeness, the gentle stroking of her skin,
she feels an energy like never before, releasing from within.
She is his tonight and his alone, for now, for tomorrow, for time.
The love they make, the tenderness they share, will forever be their bind.
As the sun awakens to extinguish the dark, she clings to the memory of the night,
the feeling of togetherness, the feelings they share, the feeling of being so right.
He is a part of her now, a piece of her heart, beating in time with her own,
he is the wind in her hair, the sun on her skin, her music of beautiful tone.
Never will she feel alone for he is living inside of her heart.
His gentle touch, his wink, his smile reassure her they never will part.
A poem written for Romantic Monday ~ thank you again, EH, for the inspiration.
As dusk envelops the clear blue sky, and stars begin to shine,
The pale moon glow and the black of night, give heed to the ebb of time.
A sense of urgency, a passionate kiss, lead inhibitions to take flight,
Our eyes are locked, I’m in your arms and I’m eager to spend the night.
The lights grow dim, the air is electric, you take me by the hand,
Without a word I follow, mind and body understand.
My heart beats rapidly as I begin to feel your hot breath close to my ear,
My legs weaken, I fall to the bed, I draw you to be near.
Bodies intertwine under a blanket of heat and the dusk gives way to dark,
Passion churns and hunger flames, causing energies to spark.
The sense of desire, the animal need, the cries of pleasure and pain,
The intensity ends, we lay spent, I’m cloaked in your arms once again.
As I fall into sleep full of dreams and desire, I feel you close to my skin,
Your breathing is heavy, your mind is at rest, and a contented feeling is within.
The night quickly passes to the breaking of dawn and together we welcome the day,
I awake in your arms, to the warmth of your kiss, and it’s there I want to stay.
A poem for Romantic Monday. Thank you again Edward Hotspur for encouraging us to channel the romantic in all of us.
Under a Blue Moon
I fit my frail hand into his as we gazed upon the moon,
the beauty of its reflection, comforting like a warm wind in June.
As the pale moon light enveloped us, we stood as one, unmoving,
engaging in a silent vow of love that would never need proving.
The stars returned our glances, embracing a life of their own,
smiling upon us as a distant loon lent music of eloquent tone.
A blend of harmonious voices, echoed the cry of the loon,
as we stood fixed, ever enchanted by the intensity of the moon.
The night air swirled around us, laughing as it tickled the leaves.
The song of the frogs was found in the night and carried upon the breeze.
The rippling of the playful waves as their longing to touch the shore,
gave voices to the rhythm of sounds, sharing a tranquil rapport.
The magical songs in the blue moon light quieted ever so slightly,
as the glow of the moon and the array of stars ceased to shine so brightly.
His grip on my hand remained tender and sweet as he turned to look in my eyes.
A night of feelings shared by lovers under a blue moon and starry skies.
polysyllabic profundities 