First Lilac Series - written for Dearest Pleasure  
            (In chronological order) 
                  From January 18 - April 6, 1999 

                                            No.  1 - 63

                                            No.  64 - 127

Dearest Pleasures are those which cannot be explain

Numbers 1 - 63 below  & 64 - 127

A Comment on a Dream that Haunts

The elegance of woven thought 
Bound not by convention or device
Subsumes emotions you have wrought
In electric monuments to ice.

Unfrozen life, unsettled days
Unspent minutes in your arms
Deride the vaulted life’s delay
But keep you ever safe from harm.  

I weave on flowered memories
And spin the violence of desire
Murmuring of touches not to be
Or found within my couched bower.

Hopes are fleshed with still-born need
Better this; a night-borne dream.  

The Harvest of Love

Fragrant dreams of sweet unrest
Borne by winds of fickle quests
Betide the autumn tinted fields
The gathered havest cannot yield.  

The harvest is a steady thing
Filled with magnitudes of dreams
Untouched by the threat of loss
Unrequited and thus most sought

Still the tides that land caress
Still the thought of life's unrest
Still the pulsing of our need
Still the thoughts that we should heed.

When the stars rain into day
Then our dreams are washed away. 

No to Temptation

Ripples on the skin of time
Harbingers of what must be
Set my thought to kindled mind
And smolder in my memory

I will love you in all time
Touching, touched, always be
But by never kindled lust
I will honor you as me.  

Remember this, lover and delight
Better part than tear stained nights.

Bardic Tidings, Told and Turned

Gravid with time's languid thought
Bestride an island just become
I visioned molten day bound fraught
With circumspection colored dun.  

Oh, majesty of time and place
Write large that all might truly see
I gazed on sacred, mind-rich face
And knew the people's destiny.  

Bounded to a fate unseen
They walk on tender-hooks of fear
Led through fields both sere and green
They tremble as the Truth draws near.  

Faces raised in awed regard
Fate revealed the hands of bards

Melinda Past Present

I was a blond and rabid brat 
who lived in boots and cowboy hat.  
Always grubby, never coy, 
I wished I had been born a boy.  

I didn't come to love my sex
'til a babe lay at my breast.
When the rush of hormones hit
The woman-fire in me was lit.  

Touches, flowers, a flagrant glance
Then I gave romance a chance.  

Romance fills me to replete
A feast from which I thirst to eat
Yearning for what cannot be
Whets the appetite for thee. 

Motes of Wishing

Restless days and tossed nights
Leaving no spare time to write
Giving in to heart's-wish bond
Tenderness that lingers on

Cherishing the motes of thought
That can't be grasped - because they're not

This, the blue moon's gift to you
What I tell you thrice it true.  

Right Writ and True

Your books are poetry, intent and form
Writ large in space uniting thought and time
Encompassing what is past and yet to be
Directing human passions to a new made norm.

Scaffolding for culture giving birth
To staging for the scene next played on Earth.  

Reflections on Sir Issac Newton
Muted magic in your voice
Roiling, wrot and wrenching in its sylvan toils
Quiet wit.
Concise discoursive logic that defies the almost quick
Not like a river, bounded in its course
Unless the turns of nature are undone
But rather as the light of bested night
A million glinting thoughts of scarse-see suns. 

A woven, time warped pattern that defies 
The simple truth that magnified tells lies.

Self Confrontation
Small moments stolen from the unravelled day
Mark memories of madness and dismay.
Small shards of thought that spin out of control
Light facets of myself I didn't know.  

I live within the fractures of delight
Tasting of the whole, forgotten sight.
Fingers tentative in touch
Remind me not to care to very much.  

Small moments gleaned from what has never been
Mark memories made golden, cleansed of sin.

Pause Before Sleep
Listen to the pulsing in the place behind your eyes
Feel the timbre of emotion as is shifts and speaks of lies
Suave and soft its nuanced cooing
Flavored with a touch of need
Grasping for your softness with a hunger born of greed

In the dark that is not night time
In the place of fear and pain
There is nothing to remember
There is nothing to regain

There is nothing of the quiet wind
The ravishing of joy
There is nothing of the memory
That recollection can employ

So when you ease your burdened soul
And slip between the sheets
Remember place and passion
And don't forget to grieve.  

Future thoughts touch lightly on the shadow of the eyes
Promising the richness of the world they will devise
Ravishment of passing claims to what is permanent
Bright rapsody of banishment to realms of never meant.

Future bright and beckoning, bringing with the hope
of peace borne grace and soul glazed haste
That truth is our reward.  

Light Time with Truth
Idylls in the cloistered halls of silence
Silvered runes that speak to you alone
Borne in shadows, fostered in defiance
The gladdened mists remind us what is known.  

Grateful do I hear and gladly listen
Intent to every nuance thereby bound
A dance of woven thoughts to bear the glisten
Of space and time removed and therefore found

Bespoken in the lightless realms of magic
Unknown to those who see only mundane
The words ignite the passion of fanatics
Burning out the chaff that still remains

So speak to me of what is never seen
Light time that life may gain what it should mean.  

Twisted Dreams of Night Redeemed
Touching, loving, twining, joining, living bright
Souls met and kept and recognized and known
Alchemy of spirit, fractured past and inner light
Sated needs replete and future passions owned.  

What camera need obscures, oppresses hard earned will?
What night- borne dream or nightmare is eating at me still?  
What fevered shattered actions take my self to fill?  
What frightened, magic passions do my dreams fulfill?  

Night give end, unquenching, night resolve my need
Dreams so unrelenting, give pause to set me free
Orbits of dementia climax with my spirit shorn
Glad of a redemption I give prayer to be reborn.  

Give Life to Source
Life's for joy and riot and to know the source of pain
Intensity and knowing and the peace that heals the maimed.  
Life is for the pleasuring of all our urgent needs
Life is for the banishing of grief and to be freed.

Truth is the foe of anguish and a friend to banish guilt
Truth is owed and owing, given to the lives we built.
Nothing else remakes our essence, nothing else can make us whole
Nothing else creates the future, fruaght with what we may not know. 

The Weight of Thought
Coiled into tensive heights with nowhere else to be
Roiling with fantasies that join someone else to me.  
I shift the spheres of Pleasure
And caress the source of need
I'm an echo of the magic nights
That give life to that rare breed.

Boiling with gravid thoughts that give me no relief
I reach out for the touch of you, banishing belief.  

The ravelled threads of golden nets, once fast, have given way
The fractured shards of winter-sun gives molten lies to day

I gather all the hours in, for comfort and surcease
But still the presence-that-is-not allows for no release.  

You are evaporated into the ether-ways of time and space.  
To be revealed anew with choice dimensions. 
When that rare time of other-minds is forward bent,
Then gilded laughter shall have proven your redemption.  

Ask me not if this, my given thought
Answered what is borne, but shriven not.  

Void of Vanishing

In the dark eternity of the void beyond the gloom
There are none to cry with anguish at the emptiness of doom
There are none to touch or taste or love, or fill with passions seed
There are none to give us meaning if it is meaning that we need.  

In the dark eternity that lives inside us all
There are none to vanquish loneliness or hear us if we call
There are none to let us know that we are precious, loved and well
There, my friend, within that void, is the place we know as hell.  

Born of Questions, Never Mentioned.  

Dark hushed murmurs, set in need
Rustled cloth and tempered pleas
Borne to us in wind-ripened time
Speak to Now of ancient crime.

Blackened bodies, shattered lives
Drained and used and then despised
Still born dreams and heart dead hope
Little passions, stunted scope

Structured, haunted, conceived in lies
Thus the wealth of love has died
Shards of lives still try to breed
Hope dies hard when babies need. 

These the truth of what has been
In the world once wrought by men.  

In the borning a new age
Gravid with empassioned sage
Tentative, afraid to hope
Hungry for a larger scope

Pouring out of sheer delight
Pregnant with the touch of light
Breasts that ache to suckle life
Arms that push away from strife.

Woman's world is come again
Joyful filled - so Love begins.  

Ten Minutes of Thought

Autumnal rhythms beat, unheard, unechoed and unjoined.
Granting passage into time through space wrought words and void
The heart of mind is speaking, the mind involved in song
Releases what is becoming as well as what is wrong.  

Speak to me of power, speak to me of grief
Speak to me of hours spent and granted to belief

Speak to me of emptiness
Of voids within the heart

Speak to me of partings
And of startings, bought and sharp

Speak to me in shadowed words
That deny what cannot be

Speak to me of memories
That languish by degree

Speak to me of mild days
Over full and gone

Speak to me of misted love
Carried in a song

Speak to me of magic
That fulfills the broken chord

And then release my soul again
To find the will restored.  

The Long Hand of Time

Time's turnings touches tender
Tasted with the taut and tortured ember
of sublime and well-earned rhyme

Deep within the envelope of gathered time
In memory of destiny and banished crime

With the promise of the borning come of dying
And the threat of truth refuted as the thought then turned to lying

Life reminds

Ancient trying 
tortured sinews, gathered will
matched with hope and harbored skill

Replete with meals that sated
That the beauty might swell, elated

With the ins and outs of weaving
and the stark report of breathing

To banish grieving

Time to Shatter

Beckoned from the unnamed shadows, 
greyed with years of uncounted passage
Savage with unconsidered adage
Unremitting and unmasted

The mind made matter
Time to shatter.  

Lovers in the shadows

In the shadowed place of silence
Lovers tenderly embrace
never seeing, never touching, 
never meeting face to face.  

In the shadowed place of silence
Where the touches are not real
Lovers meet in magic space
Where truth is all they feel.  

In the shadowed place of silence
Raptured, glowing with delight
Lovers twine and fondle
In the velvet folds of night

In the shadowed interlude of thought
Lovers find the thing most sought.  

Laughing with Pleasure

Sparkling, shining, smile igniting
Rolling through the minutes of a morning talk

Playing in the mud
Oozing, gooey, hands for cooling
touching, feeling, making stuff
Serious play is not enough.

Dancing in the gilded tones
Of happy thoughts, glowing shown 
Lit from deep within
With all contentment, joyful grin

Play with me
Speak magic thoughts, be mindful not
Let eyes say what is not fit for tongue
Speak to me of laughing fantasies begun.  

Harboring the dreams of what is not
With chosen time and memories well fraught
I touch the source of Light and fane to see
That majesty of life evolves in me.  

In and through the source, to all mankind
To make the sum of all that is divine. 

The Utility of Youthful Folly
Scampering through rocky sights 
of youthful follies redelights
Revisiting the muted past
Is sweet and bitter and can not last

Woven through those hazy days
The triste of passage mornful brays
Enchantments lost and tarnishing
Dead with thoughts and still-born dreams

These, the detritus of years
Pregnant with our unfaced fears
Can educate and harbor truth
Unfacable in our first youth.  

This I give to your attention
Briefest thoughts for new dimensions.  

Close Comment on the Magic of the Sought.  
Anointed with the touch of silent thought
Veiled eyes remove the changes years have wrought
To see the void of magic, sold and bought
Now echoing the voiceless world you have not sought

In this place of passion, touched and leavened
Owned and known, created newly every second
Placed here that life could know the shape of heaven
Is not the mote of time that it is reckoned.  

In this scarce place of thought and sensed desire
In this bare cave of magic, mutated, gravid fire
In this momentary glimpse of fractured Tyre
Is piled up the embers fleshed upon your pyre

Born in pain, reborn in steel and glass
Even this, the future, will not last.  

Melting in the Magic of the Silent Wind
Kin to me.  
Born in idle magic in the still born wind
Silent in the breath of morning glowing into day
Close to me in spiral dance, defining who I am
We danced the waves of coming-into-being in a single breath
Flitted through the possible to find the best

Close to me
Divided by the distance of possibility
Held and touched and wanted
Defined and fondled, taunted

Close to me
In mind melding impetuosity

Glad to be
One and one and all
To always be.  

Speak To Me With Eyes That Foster Joy
Speak to me with eyes that frost the silence
And shadow thoughts not given to the day
Let your mind acknowledge inner balance
Accept that what is now is not delay

Eyes are organs of the seat of human knowing
Brought though the skin to light us on our way
They shutter all the nuances of growing
And shore up souls wrought heavy with dismay

Eyes can't touch the secret heart of knowing
But give us truth refined and set us free
To find the source of sacred prayers bestowing
The gift we earn by learning who to be.  

This, a morning thought to ponder on
Glad to have you hear an inner song.  

Voices Speaking and Unheard
The Voice was low and muted and I strained to hear
I knew the words it spoke were meant to make me free
And if I missed the cadenced tones which were so near
I would be shorn of the essential knowing granted me.  

I listened, barely breathing, to the shadowed tones
I silent spoke the words again to learn their telling
And the sense of thought and meaning anchored to my bones
The shadow spoke, riveted my mind and stilled my quailing.  

The Voice that spoke, so alien and feared
Inside of me, repeating truth, ancient and sublime
Revealed the cherished phrases I'd revered
Illumination followed, to consume me and remind

So the God of intellect was breached 
And and Light of rare divining gladly reached.  

Copper Clad Dreams and Crimson Leaves
Copper clad leaves and Crimson dreams
Nothings really as it seems
Bourne within the soul of stealth
A plethora of stolen wealth

Copper clad Crimson, leaves of dreams
Nothings really as it seems
The majesty of wind-stilled night
Calls our heroes back from flight

Dreams of Copper, Crimson clad
Nothings granted 'til its had
Heroes wither in the dawn
Of the schemes that drew them on.  

Crimson leaves, clad copper Dreams
Nothing is tarnished by belief
Except the withdrawn veil of truth
Given us in our first youth

Leaves clad copper, Crimson dreams
Nothing touches what is not seen
Close held beliefs crumble, fade
When its proofs too long delay

Copper clad leaves and Crimson dreams
Nothings really as it seems
But when preconceptions have all died
You will know that Gods have lied.  

Vale of Forgetting
We light the magic of desire
Lost within that hidden vale
No need of pretense hides our fire 
Forgetting all of life's travail.  

Verdant place of lost delight
Untouched by thoughts of hectic pace
Placid with time's trace of light
We loiter in this gardened place

Faint rhapsody of sheer reward
Glazed with passion, earned and won
With uncontested, sheathed sword
A time of clarity begun

From the place of new born light
Grace exhumes itself to sight.  

Into the Cusp of Time
I dipped into the cusp of time
And drank the potent drink of truth
My blood refilled the emptied cup
I sacrificed all of my youth.

I tasted pain and soul seared grief
Saw millions die without belief
Unmourned, unloved and unrevered
Drowned in death and unshed tears

I saw the flickering of hope
In a face with greater scope
I laid my life upon the stones
Given to that Life alone 

To serve in love and secrecy
With all the pulsing force in me
To serve and serve again through time
That one sure chance to save mankind.  

This, the story that I told
Spoke to you in truth burned gold.  

Illusions are the Death of Hope

What we see and touch and feel
Can oblige us and be real
But often times it slips away
Viscous as the snow in May

What we know with spirit's eyes
Can ensure that we grow wise
If we ground its shadowed light
Clean and sure in hard-edged sight

What we are mutates through time
Evolving through our self-made crimes
Touching edges of the real
Knowing, known and therefore steel

What the shadows hide is true
The light reveals its other hues
Truth and lie a point of view
Time reflected, therefore new

But this last, an always thing
Gladdened with the songs we sing.  
Resonate with what you are
Passion's child, clothed in scars.  

Scars within and scars without
Divining spirit, quenching doubt

This I give, reflected light
Born to nurture and take flight. 

Touching, Tasting, Gravid Thought
Touched by shadows, urgent needs
Nipples hard with banished dreams
Cherry-tight and pressed upon
Taut, tight chest, rapture won.  

Moving slowly, fingers learn
Skin and tender lessons earned
Touching, touched, explored and known
From the skin deep into bone

Smelling, tasting, growing light
Tension weighs and makes me tight
Urgent joining, long delayed
Surged release and raptured days. 

Minds and bodies joined and whole
In the rapture lovers know
Always ready to be filled
That the loneliness be stilled.  

Floating on my couched bed
Long remembered and unsaid.  

Tears that no one sees or hears
I store the tears inside of me
Banishing the thought of pain
I laugh and smile and make it be
Example of what I must remain

This, a gift of tempered thought
Born of travailed, hampered life
Tapestry which I have wrought
From diverse passions, toil and strife.

Gladly given, gladly bought
Price no item of design
Struggles barren, dearly sought
Born from endurance and from mind.  

Gifts of love and tenderness
Never sought, but deeply blessed
Touch me as a seared caress
A rose I've clipped and cherished, pressed

This the life I'm joyed to live
A gift I'm glad to have and give.  

Consuming Pleasure, Given Love
My lips give pleasure, brushing skin
Hot with wanting, pulsing, need
The days slip by, and time grows thin
Wishes wasted, raptures keen

My breasts that tingle, with hands untouched
My body thirsts for lover's skin
Consumed with passion, aching lust
When did peace and patience end?  

Where is the mind that set the fire?
Born of raptured thoughts and greed
When did I become desire?
And lose myself inside his need?  

Created in the void of time
Passion that consumes my mind.  

Dreams that Tantalize in Liquid Slumbers
I slip into my foaming bath
Stripped of clothing and released
From all that I leave in my past
And find the serene taste of peace. 

My lover greets me as I come
To enfold myself in him
I waken to his caress, less numb
And know the pleasuring of skin.

He touches me, awaking heart
And fragile, lilting, laughing joy
On my lips his loving starts
But all my form he will employ

Breasts, he fondles with delight
Knowing just what pleases best
Tenders he each mound tonight
Building towards a surging crest

Candles mottle, blend with gold
Darkness tenders and removes
Lover grows more ever bold
And none are there that can reprove.

Here we meet in tender trust
Releasing all our pent up lust.  

Laughing, Loving, living Bright
I wing the idle skies of life
Laughter lingers in my soul
Trilling through the light-laced words
That mark my passage as I go.  

Sweet laughter rings, and coos and glows
It's merry melody reprise
The best of times that I have known
Warming me in every guise

You are laughter, sweet and true
Borne in scented, well loved form
You touched a heart you never knew
And laid a fearful, wrenching storm

You, the one who knows my heart
Have it, and so we'll never part.  

The Marvelled Clock of Ticking Time
Hours numbered and untried
softly slip and slide from me
Leaving thoughts and acts denied
Banished from my destiny

Which the act that most compels?
Which circuitous passion breached?
Which my passions most reveals?  
The side of me that echoes speech?

Or that place, harbored and redoubt
That promised, misted, love-born not
That stills the questions never thought
So lacking place cannot be sought.  

This, the me that cannot doubt
Knows the you of love devout.  

Circuits, Cycles, Softly Speak 
Gods That Die So We May Weep
Behind my face two minds are one
Joined by touch of thin drawn tongue
Flesh that reaches into space
Knowing of the Gods embrace

This, the idle words of joy
Born to speak of gilded toys
Entered into soundless speech
Beyond its memories and reach

For man was made of graven earth
Forged from lightning, granted birth
Touched with truth and love and life
Souls that wax in time-warped flight

Striving, raving, seeking, free
Becoming what is meant to be.
Joining to the lives undone
Until all souls have become One.  

The Gods that were and still remain
The stuff that makes all Mankind sane.  

Times Three, the Body, Mind and Spirit
Touched in body, wed to life, 
Seamless skin to vanquish strife
Two made one in every way
Gladness rapturing their days. 

Minds that meld in knowing heat
Joined with knowledge and belief
Follies granted, grateful place
Within their world of love-made space

Spirits soar into the void
Blending to the soundless joy
Of all that cannot now be touched
Spirit world is always just. 

This, the three that laughter breeds.
When lovers join in life and need.  

No Longer Burning in the Sun
It rose against the naked blue
Of sky that sheltered as it slew.
It rose again to touch the light
Of Man Eternal, given sight

Proof against the shattered dreams
Of all that is not as it seems
Vessel of uncharted suns
Bound to where all dreams begun

Quarried from the world of time
Cut by people of all kinds
Granted by them undenied
Because the soul of One has died.  

Born again in other guise
Glad He was to be despised
That the Light of cherished young
Might see the truth from where they'd come

Given thus divining will
Always in us, promised still. 

Watched in Silence, Tasted, Known
I watched in silence, savored moments
Felt the weight of my desire
Well I knew how life had bent
Warmed by tongues of savaged fire.  

Between one breath of life and death
Before the formulated thought
The course was known and firmly set
This the way, the others not.  

Encompassing, raptured need
Soul in bindings, tempered, owned
Denying all passions born of greed
Pulsing to a Truth well known.

This the birth of what must be
Granted to our sightless need.  

Grant me Life
Grant me breath to fill my lungs
Lift me into light
From the throbbing of your heart
Let love grant my living sight.

This the place from whence we come
One by one through epochs past
Born to live beneath one Sun
This world the echo of the Last.  

Tender suckling, fragile babe
Carried in my swelling womb
Not owned or owning you will be
From borning time to arching tomb

This, the pledge I give to you
Binding time and therefore true. 

Reflections of the Benefits of Bed-infesting Flus
I snug down into flannel sheets
Sweating cold and shivering
The golden promises, so sweet
Of glorious weather bring no quivering

Of anxious joy to unfurl the day
Because my wretched coughs and sniffs dismay.  

Boiling hot the baths I draw
To bake out all invading bugs
Leaving me both worn and cooling
for my flanneled sheets a drooling

Bring on the cups of oranged juice
Bring on the massive carafes of ice
Bring me yet again some soup
Chicken, yes, that would be nice

This, my sad condition now
Wellness misty promise, vow.

Black and White

Tumbling in the first light sun
All curiosity and trust.  
Glorious living just begun
Leaping on a mote of dust.  

First glimpse caught of unnamed kit
Black and white and very small
Mothers milk still damped his chin
No self-consciousness at all

Purring loud enough to hear
Lapping milk and stalking string
From half a room, it caught my ear
Toys and joy from everything.

Named Stuff'ums by the entire crew
Dignity came to him in years
Of solemn watching as they grew
Now memory to anoint with tears

Just a cat we loved as kin
Liquid loving, eyes and skin.  

In the Cave
In the cave, embraced in Time
Two lovers meet in sweet reprise
Of all the savored might-have-beens
Granted them in other guise

In that place where lovers meet
Languid with the pitch of heat
Coupling is longly traced
Loving saturates with grace.

Long pitched murmurs melt in ears
That hear and draw them yet more near
Touches, tender, glance, sublime
Evoke their memories, other times

Encapsulated with flesh borne heat
Here, the cave where lovers meet

Mote of Thought from the Nether World
Spinning silence, caught in space
Mote of thought that none embrace
Sequestered, languishing, refused
Unconsidered and unexcused

Darkness ponders what it feels
No mind, but matter is recused
The gods can laugh at human flaws
But pain still hurts when foxes gnaw.  

The paths divide, recede in place
This one or the other faced?  
What emotions, thoughts give rise
To that in me I must despise? 

Walking north along a beach
Screeching gulls and shell-worn sea
Rapt and looking on to Neverbe
The force of passion tearing me.  

Trust in what you know it true.
This, with fine-felt ache I do.  

Shards of Sanity
Sweet breath that gives my heart its life
And owns my passion and my need
Still the tumult of desire, 
kill out strife
that mind might heed
The sylvan call, collect of greed
This kindled flame so I can grieve.  

What insane thrust of tallowed time
Remits its claims on time-dead crime
That such durance might hold me fast
I the tool, him the last?
Receive my plea of interdict
Let this pain within me quit.

What shackles vested in such need?
What matters wrested from it breed?
That I should live in banishment
Passion, hope and gladness spent
Vestiges of time and place
Granted to this mote of grace

Hear the plea of one who gave
In ample measure, birth to grave
Of life and distillate of scope
Grant to me an edge of hope
This, the one and only plea
Still the plight of pain in me.

The Course of Gentled Thought
The tumult and the tears have run
Their course and dried to distant hums
Echoes of the might-have-beens
Reward the mind, transform and bend  

Their inclinations, bright and sharp
Find other places in their hearts
Sweet unrest, born in heat
The neverbeen where lovers meet

Is banished to the scrape book place
Of well remembered, cherished grace
To mellow on through silvered time 
Emerging, into crystalled chimes

That sing of touches grown more sweet
Because, in love, they never meet
Caresses, kisses lost in time
Existing only in their minds.  

One sweet short life of banished heat
Died so that these friends might meet.  

The Ravishment of Inner Peace
Time can ravish inner peace
With thoughts that weigh and bear us deep
Into the untouched place within
Where intellect and faith begin

In that perfect seat of unmade dreams
Where image lives and links with ease
Into the wordward side of mind
To sear the spirit, thoughts and signs.  

In that place of guarded keep
Spirit murmurs, mind can sleep
To wake into the light of day
Unchallenged and therefore undismayed.  

In that secure, locked in vault
Rational, in every fault
The mind imagines it's alone
Even as it knows its home.  

So remember this, with every breathe
No solitude save spirit's death. 

Stolen Touches, wrapped in Dark
His touches reach my inner soul, 
Bringing me to heightened need
Rapture captures all I know
Vanquishing the cusp of me

I am enfolded in his arms
Enraptured, fondled, and made whole
He keeps me ever free from harm
And cherishes our self-same goals

He is loving, right and true
Carried in my song of joy
Joining with us ever new
Every inch of skin employed.

I smell and taste and suckle all
He the same, rejoicing calls. 

Touching, Tasted Ever Be

I will love you through all time
Touching, tasting ever be
A glance divine on melted tomes
Lingers in my memory

I feel you touch, my breasts now swell
Crinkled as that touch compels
Lips that sense your tender heat
Fill my form with sense-starved grief.

Reflected only through the sense
Your presence fills and stills and mints
New found pleasures, never known
Now between us sage and owned

My body yours, to do your will
My mind which hears your voice speak still
The sum and whole of all I am
Knowing that we'll meet again.  

Meet as lovers, drawn to find
Communion of our self-same kind
Banishing the ancient crime
By trans mutating lust divine.  

This, the promise, lately make
Yours, the hand, controls the shade.  

Stolen Memories of the Cave
The cave enclosed and held my soul
Banishing the rude retort
That rabid truth will have its way
Lingered lonely, spare resort

The cave that crackled, sang and cried
With fire lit and dreams sublime
That held the pulse of whispered hope
And gave my senses fuller scope

I came to know his touches, skin
I came to wax in heated need
I came as woman to amend
The emptiness that held his seed

This, the raptured, lilting keen
That echoes past the waning scene.  

Fulsome fragments of Myself
The shadows borne by quiet grief
Reside inside the shell thats me
Recalling all that has transpired
Reborn inside this well-banked fire

Reposing in the faultless gloom
Of a world that seems an endless tomb
I send my thoughts into the light
Of half remembered, self-made flight

These, the places I once graced
In a world of stark disgrace.
This the sentence I live out
This the prison and redoubt

Welcomed into sightless eyes
That, beckoning truth, live countless lies

The Source of Strength
Culture, source of wise divining
Ancient mythos, born to teach
Mother, goddess still entwining
All Her children She can reach.

In the core, Judaic thought
The source of life lives on and on
Forgotten is the Womb that brought
Forgotten is the Source that wrought

Ancient Goddess, hidden truth
Carried into time through youth
Ancient Goddess who gives to me
The woman source of memory

Ancient Goddess, timeless ways
Borne in custom, wrapped in days
Of quiet-labor, voidless peace
Carrying all within their grief

Ancient Goddess, food of thought
Light our passage into Signs
Banish darkness, fill the drought
That lacking you would fracture time

This, the family born to light
From Ancient Goddess, lost from sight.  

Nighttime Embraces Only Felt

He comes to me in night subsumed
Within desire, against my will
He fondles, tastes compels my fire
And leads me, silent, owned and stilled

Touched and known, from skin to bone
He reaches in and makes me moan
With passions I have never known
He the light that shines and owns.  

I the instrument, device
That gives him pleasure and delight
My form that quickens to his need
My only thought to feed his greed

This I give in measure full
Acknowledging the debt I owe
Alive to fill his heated pulse
I become his tendered lust

I the passion, he the need
Two together, measured, seen
From out of silence, past and gone
This the lesson, learned and longed

To banish strife that threatened life
This the cure and respite.  

Life That Fills My Emptiness
He is the air that fills my lungs
The fire in my gut
He, the choice long since begun
All other options gone and shut

To fill his need and know his touch
To answer questions never broached
To there be present, sate his lust
Never given as reproach

Because my life is his alone
My mind reflected in his thought
This, the answer set in stone
He the joy that answer brought

In this desire I am reborn
Rejoicing, glad and focused on
The savant life I have not worn
This slip of time rejected, gone

To melt in fire within his need
This, a worthy charge indeed.  

What Within Compels My Need?  

Source and sustenance of life
Compelling me to seek in you
The anguished fountain, born in strife.  
That is desire, touched and fused

Smug with sanctioned mind fed truth
I never thought to taste such wealth
My body owned, released to refound youth
Younger now that will can melt

Into arms that promise, voice delight
The armor falls, recalled in time
The savage source, now hid in night
Where this rare beauty born, was mined

Oh, ransomed from receding years
Reborn, remade in flesh made whole
I taste the tang of soul seared tears
And hunger for the flesh I know

Well amended, made for me
This, beloved mote, is thee.  

Walking With Me Through The Day.

You walk with me through out the day
I feel you touching, loving, there
I turn my head and feel your lips
Denying all loneliness, despair.  

You make me laugh with sharpened wit
When I feel your raptured, time scored fit
Into the deep insides of me
Granting me both owned and free

You nuzzle, nesting kissing neck
And trace your kisses to my lips
As hands cup the warm embrace of breasts
And trace the path down past my hips

In bed we two are unrestrained
You taking pleasure in my needs
While I in congress see that yours
Fulfill the fantasies mind can breed

This, the day we taste and sup
Filling up our joyness cups.  

The Thought of Skin
Your skin reproaches all my thoughts
That tarry in the land of Neverbe.
My fingers learn to banish drought
And hold your cherished presence close to me.  

Smooth and wrinkled, taut and trim, pink and mottled
Browned with time and tensive, seasoned ease
It cannot fail to please
The cloaking brought from wombed redoubt to 
clothe and slake us all our lives
Through skin we smile with our eyes and musculature which underlays
and speaks in unworded, magic ways.  

thin and thick, taut and tight, carrier of rare delight
Freckled, folded, scarred and not
The simple thing that one had thought

Montegued, before untold, the fabric of a life extolled.  
From dewied new to raddled time
Scored, embattled, telling crimes

This, the organ mostly seen
Given us to mask and screen
Loved and temdered all our years
Embattled, shattered by our fears.  

Ancient Dance of Pleasuring
You dance with me in flesh-bound dreams
Of ancient joinings, vaulted joys
You plunge and pulse and rapture me
Skin to skin and well employed

Your hands, so tender, knowing touch
Your lips that murmur, saying much
That I am compelled and filled with lust
Open to your hard-edged thrust.  

Fill me, cries my Mother Song
Empty, empty, sate my need
More and more I do belong
To you, the one who gives his seed

Burnished with the rapture spent
I couch on your shoulder, well content.  

The Stolen Hopes of Neverbe
My lover met in time and place
Or rare divining, rapt embrace
Touched a part of me untried
To still the joy that there had died 

He tendered, winnowed, owned my thoughts
Drank the tears that time had brought
Healed and whole and therefore freed
My lover's glancing presence grieved

Because the cure can also hurt
In this place and time on Earth
His wit and wonder, choice and tart
Found and plundered all my heart

Wounded, weeping, open, lost
I learned to calculate the cost
And now my tender heart I keep
In careful trust inside of me.  

For one who can be trusted to
Return my love, revealed and true. 

First Violet Series 
Sixty-Four to One Hundred & Twenty-Seven