To she that kept faith,
Such nights: she dreamt but many,
As hath very few.
To she that kept faith,
To she that kept faith,
Such nights: she dreamt but many,
As hath very few.
Velvet night and obsidian bliss
Velvet touch, your biting kiss
Softly feel your breath upon my skin
An urgent begging, a withhold, a deep breath in
I listen as you whisper my name is surging sighs
I listen has you pant back needing cries
I look into the depths of your eyes…
Passion dripping, wrapped in velvet thighs
Feel your body against my fleshen soul
The caress, the touch, the overthrow…
Tongues that trace like silken lace
Fingers that slide with lustful grace
Stubble roughly on delicate homes
Sighs and trembles and lustful moans
Feel the pull of full restraint
Feel the push, the pause, the faint
Feel you hold back from losing all control
As I urge you to motion, smooth and slow
Feel the explosion of soul within soul
A need, a desire, a letting go
With deep paths of unheld lust
Eagerly meeting and matching thrust
Cushioning and grasping within a nestled place
I watch as you let go, your exquisite face
With a collision of stars, planets, a milky way thread of light
As your soul explodes with mine in the night
Feeling you fully undone to the center of your core
I feel the want, the need, all that plus so much more…
I feel myself fall and land into your embrace
A soft smile of love, on each of our love torn face.
I wrote the following in response to RL King (Lady Day) , not intended it to be poetry, but with the intention of subverting my penchant for wordiness:
Anyone can write.
Anyone can show reality.
Or even bend it to the surreal.
Or to the abstract.
Even bend it to the romantic with your will.
Not everyone can see like this.
Not everyone can see
The romantic in reality.
Not everyone understands.
That to be romantic.
You do not have to bend reality.
You only have to see what is there.
And not ignore the romantic in it.
Just not forget to remember–
Remember not to forget–
Or pretend not to see–
Or pretend you don’t know–
Or deliberately deny–
Or malevolently distort–
What is actually there.
This is what you do when you write.
You see how it is all there.
If you are not sure it is real.
Because you do not know it directly.
If you simply are sure.
Like there is an instinct telling you.
You believe it.
When you do this.
Others will see.
They will step forward.
Some will deny it.
But more will say:
“Yes. I see that too.
“I was afraid to tell anyone.
“How beautiful I thought it was.”
The following was so lengthy I thought to bring it along from here.
December 9, 2012 at 9:18 pm
Hiya David, long time no correspondance, hey?
To be brutally (and perhaps refreshingly) honest, I don’t actually read that much, or rather, I can definitely say I’m not a bookworm. A few authors who I do enjoy reading when I get the chance include Scott Westerfeld and Terry Pratchett. They have quite different styles of writing, but both manage to include some subtle humour, something I’m quite big on. Other than that, I read the newspaper most days, especially the opinion section (although I’m not quite sure this counts!)
On a related note, I’m pretty confident I learnt to read playing Pokémon when I was about 3 or 4. If not, it definitely bettered my vocabulary!
I just want to say thanks, David. It’s really great to have such a worldly advocate liking what I do. Hopefully with exams now finished, I’ll be back to churning out quality material on a regular basis!
Wonderful to hear from you! I shall take the above from bottom to top (rather than from the centre out, as those who know me well have so jibed.)
You are quite welcome, I am looking forward to seeing more. As well, do pop by my site here and there as time might permit. (You are, after all, my very first commenter, except for my sweetheart of course.)
Regarding Pokémon, I have not seen (nor played) much, perhaps just enough to know that I am not prone to seizures (Is that joke/reference too old for you?) And regarding animé in general, I do enjoy it greatly–particularly that sub-genre termed ‘shonen,’ a favourite of my sweet wife as well, for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that little western heroic fiction written after 1914 is truly heroic–not reliably heroic, in any case; not without vetting it first. Whereas such as I have above mentioned is virtually guaranteed to be so, although why I think this is so, is too long a topic for this already bloated post.
Regarding your learning to read, I find your explanation not at all surprising, as you strike me as quite precocious. This seems a very familiar scenario to me, as such proclivities as I may possess also appeared at a very early age–those of my sweetheart as well, although in a sense, the method with which she learned to read as a very young girl involved sitting on her grandfather’s knee while he read his bible–among other things–and pointed out words for her to read or learn. My way was… quite honestly it must have been very haphazard and random, because I cannot remember ever not being able to read.
When I started writing poetry, I had only read science fiction–which continues to be my favourite–though by this time I have read quite a lot of other types of literature. Poetry… I suppose one might term it my “gateway drug” to the humanities. It was a way in which I could understand my sweetheart’s world of the humanities without having to read huge works of literature (none at all containing spaceships of any form, by the way) which, no doubt would have bored me quite to death at your age.
And regarding the selections you did mention, I have not read anything as of yet by Mr. Westerfield, (what do you recommend as my first?) however not long ago, (in dog years, perhaps) around the turn of the century (yes, this one, young man, not the last) I was introduced to Mr Pratchett’s work and have read nearly all of it. I believe there are a few Discworld offerings–the newest ones–which I have not yet read, but no doubt soon will.
Perhaps, although you have answered my question partially–albeit very graciously–I still wonder regarding the nature of such poetry as you have read, or in what way you were first introduced to its various forms, particularly sonnets, because I do sense some artefacts in some of your wording which to me suggest some influence or other.
I had only read a few sonnets early on in my sojourn into poetry, and fell in love with the form, and started writing them almost from the the first day of my studies–so perhaps, I’m more like you than I had at first imagined; and perhaps also, as my sweetheart continues to insist, my humanities connexions are “more along” than I realise or am willing to admit. In any case, yours may be an example of what, in heuristics, we might term “early synthesis,” as, clearly, is mine.
Also pardon my schizophrenic spelling, as, although I am from the US–though my sweetheart is very English–I recently changed my spell-check to British English. (Believe me when I say I very much need one! And for two reasons, the second of which is my lightning fast typing that does not always produce the desired result, and the first of which is obvious.) I did this because I thought that such UK spellings with which it would prompt me, would be more in keeping with the King James English which (however imperfectly) I often employ in my sonnets, and which my sweetheart so loves (because as such, it reminds her warmly of her early education.) In any case, some US spellings are also considered acceptable to such dictionaries, as those of the UK, and, as a result, the dictionary I am currently using (in Firefox) will not always engage in the type of “Brittpicking” that I should like it do perform. There is, no doubt, a more stodgy one available somewhere that more strongly ‘favours’ UK spellings, because I can see such a thing as being an extremely useful tool for writers.
…such of us who maintain our rather anonymous, low volume blogs enjoy will be sorely missed when, at some point, one finds one has crossed the line into some higher level of recognition. Most of us here at this level–if not all, which truly has been my experience–seem not to offer harsh judgement, but simply a neighbourly kind of support. I myself, have never been, in such a way, too critical; and although from some of my writings, one might infer that I might be found rather particular as regards my likes and dislikes, I have a number of reasons why–even pre-blogging–this is my general way of approaching such things. One might, for example read elsewhere in this blog, that I feel an aspiring writer is too odd a duck to give the kind of advice that another aspiring writer may need–unless that writer is deliberately targeting other aspiring writers; a thing which may or may not be the case. This is not the least of my reasons, such as they are; however I will leave it to the reader to ferret out my other such reasons.
In any case, crossing the boundary brings into ones world, flaming, trolling, and other elemental denizens. Some trolls are even paid assassins meant to break the spirit of those who do not, as it were, “tow the line” in whatever way some shadowy foundation might have decided needs towing. Of this I have seen many examples, and read about a great deal more. As I myself am a technically savvy fellow, I am not as concerned with such things. They will be met with the appropriate countermeasures. Some of which my more technically savvy readers will, no doubt find very entertaining.
However, such a moment carries with it, like it or not, a feeling of “childhood’s end,” as one might term it. A bit sad in some undefinable way. I remember very well, my first such moment–rather trivial by comparison–being the very first comment I received from someone other than my sweet wife. I remember it giving me pause. Not sure, I remember I felt, as to whether I should acknowledge it myself, or just pretend it never happened.
As it turned out, responding in kind opened up a whole new world to me; and this is a thing for which I am most appreciative. Although I have not seen many new posts from my first follower–as he was rather young, and, I am most certain, has other priorities besides maintaining a blog. Still my exchanges with this young man remain quite significant in my memory. And, he is, as, of this date, his most recent post will show, a very talented young man. (This, by the way, is a quite beautiful tribute to a lighthouse, if I am not mistaken)
In any case…. Childhood’s end? We should not fear it. We should not regret it, except to look back upon it fondly and with gilding such as only nostalgic recollection may bring. But, certainly we should look it straight in the face and bravely yell: “Bring it on!”
…a bit of a break, I thought I might write a few words regarding the sequence I have been writing. This is has been an interesting sequence for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that I am writing it from my sweetheart’s perspective. This can be somewhat vexing; one does not wish to appear to be sounding ones own clarion, as it were. Therefore, in the interest of the avoidance of an excess of self-aggrandisement, I have endeavoured to keep to quotes and memories of conversations and notes and letters that I have over the years received. In this way I may use and/or paraphrase the words of others–particularly those of my sweet love, rather than my own. Even then, it does strike one as rather embarrassing to write such things about oneself. Continue reading
Thank you for the visit, I myself have read many such classics, and knew long ago they were far from shallow tomes.
Desire backed by Faith knows no such word as impossible.
Every adversity brings with it the seed of an equivalent advantage.
– Napoleon Hill
I never read Napoleon Hill’s classic Think and Grow Rich. I judged the book by the cover believing that it was probably materialistic pablum only useful to sales people trying to develop positive thinking habits to consistently close deals and make big bucks – not that there’s anything wrong with that. Being successful in sales does require a strong dose of integrity, self-confidence and positive thinking, but I didn’t see the relevance to someone like me who was an educator and not motivated by wealth accumulation. I made a mistake.
The two quotes above sound like words you would see on inspirational posters that have no practical effect in the life of the individual who glances at them. The mind responds positively to such thoughts until…
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