I have cool lips
ready to heat your smooth skin,

I have wide eyes
waiting to spill into magic

I have gentle words
eager to caress your soul

I am wiser than a sister
more loving than a wife
I am the ancient voice of sex
that shudders meaning into life

I have long enquiring fingers
able to find the melody along your spine

I have wide and swaying hips
able to match your pace with mine

I have a heavy heaving bosom
you can lick, or suck or grip

I am more patient than each sunrise
thats committed to each day
I will return as she the sungod
and whisper, love, come play

and let the song share its ripened melody
caress the worry from the brow of constant disappointment
that man makes for man
and let the inner voice stop whispering
and sing
and sing,
my love
and sing.

I'm saving myself for the love of my life.
When the love that I seek desires to bring me no strife
He's hidden his tenderness so deep inside.
That I'll nolonger see where the shadowmen hide.

His shadow is long and it covers me, chilling.
Declining, with coldness, all the love that is willing
To wait and to give and to open and blossom.
Yet he'll keep turning his back on my heavy bosom.

My love is still smiling, she's not waiting for him!
Its my good self who foolishly assigned her this shelf.
I'll lift love now gently back into my heart
And let her enrich me not tear me apart.

I thank you for moving me tentatively forward.
I love you for chasing me relentlessly homeward.

Oh Hello world.

Energy is a strange commodity isn't it?

Where and why does it sometimes overflow, filling heart and mind and body, rushing happiness and positivity through out. Easing aches and soothing emotions, urging action upon us like a vibrant shower.....and whole life maps are evoked and put into play and great novels are pushed into the world with barely a moment to squall

Then sometimes it fizzles gently in, short spurts and bursts firecrackers activity between aching shoulders and the joy of a clean kitchen or a tidied bedroom or a blog entry...

and then its gone, an unrepentant delinquent disappeared without consent leaving us greiving and spent, crawling from beneath duvets into dazed days of pugatory

and then it stays away, day after day and the crawl numbs into depression and teeth and arse go unwashed and hair unbrushed and

You left,
For my amusement
I stayed and wrapped my poetry about me, waiting,
I am nowhere and you are nobody important
In each place and in each day, stating
"I am everywhere" and you are thus resistant.
Softly listen, we’ll hear the cries abating
The tiniest of soul is hope and
Re creating

why you have ever left me I don't know
as if through clouds of time you'll understand my love some how'
give up the bitterest of disppointment and avow
the loving friendship of the here and now

I've worn my breasts loose and free, all day, let them swing warmly beneath both arms and to my knees. I have no red rashed itching lines where upholstered bras have caged my charms. I feel the warmth of soft brown flesh press hotly from my carefree chest. and as my full bosom swells flatly I am reminded that I too would like to contravene the norms of yet another everyday,as tommorrow, Monday, comes too soon. and I must dress and wash and groom. and make good use of time and sing another salty tune.

A Tudor who tooted a flute
tried to tutor two tooters to toot.
Said the two to their tutor,
"Is it harder to toot
or to tutor two tooters to toot?"

My heart is exploding in a world that is pretending children are monsters.

Hack, hack , hack.

There is the resonating sickness of a racist world carving pain and madness at my back.

When will we redress the balance, take the thickened lids of pity from our eyes and see.

This misery and fucked up world is a much the fault and responsibility of each and every one of us....Agree?

I wished our prayers could shatter this insanity.

I wish there really was a way, I am building up a tension, where the tears will never spring.

but for now cause I have no solution, middle earth just rise and sing.

but let the loss of every human, whereever and however, just for a moment into your consciousness and

Let it sting.
x

He is young , the one I love, did I not say? and I have no desire to be Mrs Robinson. If when he grows up he faces me with his desire, we will see, we will, we will see. He is young and he is horny, the one that I love and he would marry if the right girl came along. i'd wish him well and i would mean it and I would love him still, the one that i love , I love.

he is young and he is not so bold as I would need, though the thought of him, sends quivers to my knees, he is oh so young and slight, but I would not put up much fight, should he seduce, seduce ,me soon, seduce me soon.

he is young the one I love, has he yet to pass through 30. He is bright and he is fiery and he relishes his power but not yet can he stand up and face me with is desire, so not so horny as this lady is tonight.

He is young the man I love, and I have loved him for a long time, though I denied the desire for so long. The passion he's rekindled I have shared here on these pages, but soon comes the cooling stillness of another night alone and I can bear it, I can bear it, I can.

When he called I know he is not coming, he feels that if he stops he'll never head back off again and I want to say....

baby, where else is there to go, what more is there beside my love and my sweet caress. I long to fill your voids with home cooked food, a warm hearth and the pulsing rythmn of my heart....

I have offered lamb mince cooked in an Italian stylee to guide him to my arms through snow storms and drear nights, down long and winding roads forever dark.Lit only maybe by the unspoken promise of my soft bosom?

its really unfortunate!

but i think my love is beginning to love me too! Will there be any further need of my long and lovelorn poetry?

My house filled with men's voices.
and the dream was a song
my daughter and I having painted all day
rest back in deck chairs in the late summer evening sun and sip white wine from tin cups clasped in hands scrubbed from painting the walls throught out the ground floor.

Jackie comes home from the playhouse with Lonzi B in tow, A chinese gay director and the UK hiphop king you know. Bloe Feather wanders in uninvited, but he's really welcome here. He's multiculturally challenged and I love his long grey hair. Soon comes son. the six foot one with six pack and handsome grin . He brings Awais and Jay. who's left the wife at home but Heat bobs in to say hello and the chicken is nearly done. So Artist. Footballer( the first Black Manager for England). Writer, ( my dearest love) Beatboxer and Live Artist all gather now to eat and deliciously are silenced by the feast.

Oh dreams are sweet and so are men and so's my daughter dear. Her music plays behind the throng, my tunes are weaved within her song and now I blink and its all gone!

When he called she could hear something in his voice.

Her instinct picked up his neediness and responded as ever to her desire to care for him.

Loving.

He was trying to come to terms with it.

At first he had found it uncompelling, cloying, like an old womans scent.

Sometimes she saw herself as she thought he did, as huge knickers, a deadened pastel, slightly urine moist wrapping themselves around his beautiful head, suffocating him.

His voice was thick with unspoken thoughts.

and then he spoke his longing.

His words spilled into her. Heating her into silence.

Sometimes I want to

Sometimes I want to kiss you.

kiss your breasts.

Make love to you.

I want to lay with you, naked, flesh on flesh.

Her words struggled inside her. Her heart and head trying to match his words with reality.

He seemed desperately sad and alone.

and she wanted to hold him, soother him, comfort him.

She wanted to slide her hand onto his belly and stroke the hair, lying flat above his pubic bone and trail the line up and across his chest. Lick each nipple and

and kiss his lips

and the tip of his penis, and taste the first sweet bead of pre-cum.

and stroke his balls and kiss the cheeks of his arse

and line the rise of his shoulders with her kisses whilst he cupped her breasts.

and lift herself onto her knees and widen and push against his thrusting

but

she listened and let him talk, ask his questions, answer them.

would she masturbate whilst thinking of him tonight.

Honestly?

No I don't think so.

Her dreams were fuller and wetter but she could not find the lyric to share her desire and she had held it within her so long it was almost invisible. Pulsating inside her.

He needed her to love him and she knew he wasn't sure he could if she let him fuck her.

Peggy twisted the curls at her forehead around her the fingers.

He would pass by again without noticing.

His head as ever full of Lucinda's long blonde legs.

Peggy scratched at the armpit of her tight shiny red dress where it cut into the flesh pushing at the fabric stretched over the bosom.

She had a figure that good lingerie would bless with ripe curves and soft lines, but without the resources of a good mum or money, her boob, belly, bum sacked into the dress like so many over ripe tomatoes.

She had lovely feet, an arch drawn beautifully where her white sole met the brown of many footless summers on beaches far`away from this dirty wet corner of Hammersmith.

She sucked at the end of the pencil and humming a ditty known only to herself and her siblings began to scribble.

Starlings gather me
light wings shine
and twitter
at the supermarket
once again.

She smiled at her verse and began to sketch swiftly.

The lines of her drawings were bold and strong. Catching the individual character of each of the birds as they fluttered about her.

His heavy step scattered them, she sketched the back of his head at it receded into the shadows of the store doorway.

She leaned back and hitched her right buttock onto the bicycle stand, grinned and the mangy cur tied up next to her and began to whistle.

the Melody of love and she wished she were tall and tan and long and lovely.

Like Lucinda.