To the cute guy I always see in the bus park on my way home from work.

Dear cute guy,

I have been noticing you

standing tall

near the signs that tell me which bus to hop on to finally be in my bed

I wonder which bus leads you home

I see everything

I see alot I like

My eyes scan you nightly

Hoping you don’t see me looking at you

hoping you notice me too

Wondering if I look cute enough tonight

Is my hair ok?

Do you even like darker girls with a natural fro?

did my make up smudge today?

Should have worn make up instead today?

I know I am overreacting

but a girl can dream right?

I adore the way your shoulders silently tell me how strong you must be

Your eyes a little slits that glistened under the park’s light

we have made eye contact a few times

my heart fluttered a little

maybe I’ll say hi one night

If you say hi first that is

 

Another untitled piece

So let me holler at you for a mo’
Rest your ears by lips
I’ll whisper much slower as your eyes flutter
Float on my wings, I want to seep into your delicate skin like fermented wine
Let me travel up your pulsing veins like champagne bubbles
I’ll stick my tongue in your ears,
I’ll lick your very consciousnesses
I’ll massage your brain
Cold bumps begin
Decorating your flesh
I want to be more to you.
So much more.
Your deity.
My very thoughts I will transmit to your soul.
I want to be your worshiped being
I want to be your lover.

I am

I am many things

a faint wisp of colour

hidden in the background of a vast canvas

I am the bold and unapologetic centerpiece

I instantly catch your eye

Do not blink

I am a structure

I hold together things once broken

things forgotten

I am rhythm and I am rhyme

the pattern and groove that continues

on and on

I am contrast

the epiphany of difference and similarity

all together in one host

I am neutral

I keep everyone calm and relaxed

I am the entire picture

I am the masterpiece

I am as you perceive me to be.

 

 

Dusting It Off

A thick film covers it
as it sits, rather drowns in a crowd of daily monotonous chores.
Many cast their eyes about it, even i disregard it.
a slice of the forgotten,

I re-entered the room, that oh so familiar zone and a speck of dust glisten from it’s surface beckons to me.
and what is your name again?

A deep exhale reveals it’s former beauty.
its subtle but ever so captivating curvature
its defined lines……..
that little sparkle to its eye
old friend………

Here we are re acquainted
here I am loving you again
yes my old friend, so snug between my fingers
we will write…..

I hate kissing you

I hate kissing you
Because your lips are too cruel
They crush my own with such aggression
Demanding I equal your passion
It scares me how without thought I moan with pleasure
It is so wrong how strength is robbed from my knees
Chills tickle my skin
Why am I so weak to your violent love that reminds me I am woman and you’re more than enough man?

Solace

There is a place

I oft like to visit

Alone

It’s my oasis in a vast barren land

I may release my breath I held so tightly

No one sees it

It is deep within

Only with my mind’s secret eye

Have I any access

In quiet

Bare and unburdened

I enter solace.

 

My poetry

my poetry is a mirror of my current state
i try to master my craft,
constantly hoping i will be perfect
i scrutinize every flaw, every miss pelt word
shed a few tears and try to perfect my handwriting.
the mirror is often foggy
my breath so hard on it, after another failed attempt to do something.
i often read other poets
see how they live
and question?
when will be so good,
like life, poetry is neither wrong nor right………………

 

-Something I wrote in 2012-

His touch

And his touch was her first

and his touch became her second

tender kisses ignited her virgin skin

his hot licks of passion scorched her 

a place she recently discovered

tears glistened her cheeks

slick heat burnt her to ashes

her thighs shook for the first

her heart came alive second.

Old photos

 

*SCOFFS*
I done been hearing rumours…
lips be moving and tongues oh how they wag.
they have been speaking
speculating…..
where have I been?

why do I no longer write?
has the flame been extinguished
washed out by my tears
and blown away by self pity?
but oh how the phoenix arises from the smoldering ashes
covered in soot.
I shake my my feathers violently.
the nay sayers will be silenced!
today!
I shall op’n my lips
scream from the height of that solitary tower.
like a banshee,
the screech tears souls asunder
drives fear into their bones
shiver…..
I am not dead…
I live on
a legacy that refuses to die.

The tale of the three little pigs and the cunning wolf too

They came to me as dawn was on the horizon
in a dream of course,
three little pigs
full of life and passion and many dreams
can you imagine
how they went wee wee wee!

The first little piggie started the journey with me
on a dusty beaten path.
A house of straws he said
never to be moth eaten.
He easily found his material;
I mean who in life can’t find easy friends
ready to compliment
a get rich quick scheme
with money; lots of it
and a new sow every day
this shall last he said
wee wee wee.

Little pig number two
a little on the plumb side.
ohh… I’ll never listen to my brother.
Some wood is what you need
keeps the world out
so no one can see you.
You can do whatever you will in privacy
who needs friends
pssshhh… i’m fine
by myself
wee wee wee.

Here’s a nice chap
a lean mean little piggie
with time, dedication and brick
I’ll build a solid foundation and grow from there
the right mix of friends and little luck
we’ll make it
wee wee wee.

Ha! let’s see who can stand up to this
huff puff puff
a cunning wolf arrives on the scene
troubles my dreams
he blew upon the straw…. once the money and fast women were gone
so did the friends and all tumbled down around the first pig.
he blew upon the wood…… and with no where and no one to turn to
the lonely home was demolished.
He blew upon the bricks, and blow he did
but a steady foundation wouldn’t be toppled.
sturdy it stood till the wolf was blue in the face
it stood indeed.
wee wee wee