poetry

Found

Adrift and afloat as we please,
souls intertwined risen on a breeze.
Bodies tingle when lovingly held,
euphoria and ecstasy mesh and meld.
~
Mind’s go blank and words just sound,
hands to feel, feel all around.
Kisses gentle and lips explore,
sensation’s mutual, that’s for sure.
~
Breathings heavy and hearts at rest,
eyes see eyes, a view that’s best.
Darkness fills the blinks between,
soon to sleep where dreams are seen.
~
Hours will pass in starlit bliss;
the sun then rises for another kiss.
Two shall wake to greet the day;
joined as one we’ll find our way.

~*~
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What the Schmuck

With icy fingers and hidden hands,
an unseen face footless stands.
Awaiting the cough of their next guest,
no’s no answer for their request.
~
“Follow me; your time has come,
the path is short, the feeling’s numb.
Two packs a day gives you early admission.
Your time with me is but a transition.”
~
The reaper laughed at their instructions,
fearing not their many abductions.
They said the pain would fade away,
but how long they wouldn’t say.
~
I gasped for breath, not wanting to go.
Why must it be now I didn’t know.
I said I quit the smokes a few weeks back.
“I’ve only a cold so please cut me some slack.”
~
They laughed again at my poor excuse.
Saying my line was long but I choose the noose.
I begged and pleaded to be set free.
They replied that they had a deal for me.
~
I said “that’s great”, not having a clue.
They then told me all the things I must do.
Their list was long but I happily agreed.
I’d now do anything, if to only be freed.
~
They said they’d go but they’d leave a scar.
Then a loud scary cry was heard from afar.
The reaper then vanished and I lay alone,
reflecting on the habits I’m prone.
~
A new day’s begun and life’s the more dear.
The clock’s still ticking but the ends not so near.
I bargained with death but won’t press my luck.
And my future’s now brighter, no longer a schmuck.

~*~
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Much Ado About Nothing

On a street that shouldn’t be there,
there’s a house that shouldn’t stand.
Its front is covered in thorny vines,
out back a yard of sand.
~
The windows are always open,
cats all come and go.
There’s a dog that barks all night,
it’s really a horror show.
~
There’s an old car in the driveway,
but no one has seen it move.
A radio’s always blasting upstairs,
so someone’s got the groove.
~
The locals all say it’s haunted,
they’ve heard stories all their life.
Newlyweds had once lived there,
but no one had ever seen the wife.
~
Packages and mail get delivered,
but the trash never goes out.
Imagination fills in the blanks,
cos that’s what fantasy’s about.

~*~
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Spooky Thoughts

The moment is near, the fear’s begun.
My nerves are frazzled, I’m under the gun.
A routine surgery, or so they say,
I think I’ll try to enjoy this day.
~
I woke up early to see the sun rise.
It could be the last to dazzle my eyes.
Crazy visions are filling my head.
It might be soon, I may be dead.
~
But that’s just nonsense, I’ll do great.
It’s too early to be called late.
The sun’s now high, distractions ensue.
Halloween awaits and I’ve much to do.

~*~
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The Rest of the Story

Jack and Jill went up the hill.
But that story’s been told before.
At the top a shack they found.
Then they proceeded to kick in the door.
~
The inside was pleasant to their surprise.
They couldn’t have wished for more.
They drank some cider that was found.
Then soon they began to snore.
~
They woke in the dark with foggy eyes.
Their heads were appropriately sore.
Their laughter now was in the past.
The fear they couldn’t ignore.
~
Hours of pain they had endured.
In silence they lay on the floor.
The owner came home just after sunrise.
And the rest became folklore.

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Morning Triku #177 ~ Random Waves

Beyond the Glass

My windows are closed.
The air cold and leaves fallen.
Yet birds sing somewhere.
~

Sticky

With the glue of two,
broken hearts can mend anew.
Or someone gets stuck.
~

Self-Love

Love Unimpassioned,
is much like one hand clapping,
every morning.

~*~
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No Act Play

Our time apart,
let’s call it art,
performed by you and me.

Scenes created,
of time elated,
hearts and minds set free.

Direction’s un-needed,
cos soon you’ll be greeted,
by dreams and wishes we share.

Reality resumes,
our passion consumes,
inhibitions we now dare.

The curtain will close,
the applause still goes
fantasy’s now to start.

The love we’ve made,
is never to fade,
encores we’re always a part.

~*~
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Cats with Balls

Balls of yarn in a basket rest,
tightly wound await their quest.
Cats a-pouncing, a playful pest,
balls unwound are surely messed.
~
But if to be a ball at rest,
is to be without life’s zest.
To unwind, we humans blessed.
Perhaps the cat does know best.
~
But we’re not cats, as you’ve guessed.
And if to pounce we’re addressed.
Our winding road we’re obsessed.
And our time is surely pressed.
~
But like a basket we welcome guest,
receiving all to our cozy nest.
Though when full we get stressed,
perhaps to knit, but surely I jest.
~
Our paths in life we can request.
Our destinations we manifest.
But our time we must invest.
Or simply the litter we’ll digest.

~*~
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~Forest of Hell

Colorless leaf crackle beneath sole-less feet.

The smell of death lingers sweet.

Bramble thick draws blood on paper skin,

digging more deeply the deeper within.

 *

Then starlight fades to the darkness I fear,

moonlight shadows disappear.

Columns abound supporting endless night,

numbers multiply consuming the light.

 *

Welcome dew hangs heavy in unseen air,

to drink deep I do not dare.

Outstretched hands replace teary useless eyes.

Senses heightened, alert of endless cries.

 *

Vibrations of night; soft, loud, far and near,

distant from all, we all hold dear.

Wanting now only to curl-up and weep,

my soul is still for the sickle to reap.

 *

Return to the path I lost yesterday,

blackness turns slowly to gray.

Long nights journey in the forest of hell,

surviving again, except for my shell.

 *

The End

*

 SKittell c.2014