A Matter Of Opinion

Some folks might say you’re “picky.” Well, it’s one such word they’d use …

and that depends entirely on who’s expressing views.

“Persnickety,” “particular,” “fastidious,” or such,

can all be used to say that, well, perhaps you care too much.

And though I see how “anal” might describe your special zeal,

this girl prefers “meticulous,” which lends a different feel.

Dear, I need words with loving connotations to give praise.

Assiduous intentness manifests in sexy ways,

and there’s no doubt about it. You get everything just right.

You’ve got the perfect technique down; you demonstrate each night.

So I don’t mind you taking time and wanting things just so,

(yes, even when it’s good enough, and I wish we could go).

I know that when it’s my turn, you will take your time the same,

and that gives rise to ecstasy that makes me call your name.

So, fussy and punctilious are compliments, indeed.

You’re vigilant, self-disciplined, and know just what I need.

You’re ever-s0-0bservant, and your work is so precise.

Bravissimo, sweet man! Your eye for detail’s really nice.

Growing Old

I want to be with you forever.

I plan to grow old by your side.

 We’ll go on adventures together,

both leaving no option untried.

Someday, we may have matching canes,

or blend all our food into soup.

We’ll talk, on the porch, of our pains,

and snog, even though we booth droop.

Then one day, when I need a scooter,

we’ll add on a special sidecar

so I may ride close to my suitor,

not caring if we look bizarre.

I welcome the wrinkles and gray,

wait up for the dentures and flab,

don’t mind if you need a toupée,

or stop for an afternoon nap.

As long as I’m with you, life’s great.

There’s no place that I’d rather be.

You’ll always be my perfect date,

at twenty-six or ninety-three.

D-Day

Hollow words float to the sky in retreat,

tails out of reach so I can’t grab a hold.

Actions are heavy and strong like concrete,

their presence a value far greater than gold.

You say you’re willing, as though that’s enough,

counting on me to not force you to prove.

D-Day is here, sir. I’m calling your bluff.

Man up and show me, or pack up and move.

burden

the albatross approaches

it’s far past time to run

a burdened life encroaches

the worst has just begun

caught up in sickly deluge

and straining hard to breathe

no sweet relief or refuge

the sword you cannot sheathe

your best commitment sagging

resentment breeding hate

you find forgiveness lagging

no patience to abate

you want to see improvement

the journey long and hard

no vow of upward movement

both parties spent and scarred

your lover’s reprobation

upon your heart is seared

abhorrent confirmation

as bad as you had feared

there is no good solution

except for you to die

at last the devolution

his money couldn’t buy

 

The Road To Hell

The timid grey chinchilla has intent to cross the street,

considering his options far too carefully to move.

His true love stands beyond, yet he won’t animate his feet,

the pressure ever-swelling, adding something else to prove.

At last, when he is ready, traffic’s blossomed in the road.

It’s surging to and fro’ in a vertiginous display.

Anticipation mounts until he’s ready to explode,

his cowardice proliferating, much to his dismay.

His true love waits with bated breath, admiring from afar,

encouraging her quarry to come claim the prize he wants.

The Doppler promulgates the trail of every passing car,

his reticence interpreted as targeted affronts.

All day he sits and ruminates, comparing pros and cons.

He’s hoping she may come to him if he won’t go to her.

He looks up just in time to see her disaffected yawns,

his true love now retreating in a swift, indifferent blur.

Ascendancy

Discounting its import, a grave mistake,

pretending sex won’t have impact like this;

it’s something you must tend to for the sake

of marriage and your precious wedded bliss.

If you don’t get along, you’re surely doomed,

a fundamental problem you can’t shirk.

The sex won’t be enough, as was assumed.

Both need much more to make the marriage work.

But even if you’ve roots so thick and strong,

as to remain so firmly set in place,

the problems will prevail when sex goes wrong,

and in the end, divorce is what you’ll face.

Good sex can’t save a sinking marriage ship.

Bad sex will tear an everlasting rip.

 

 

Awakening

I’d like to say there’s anything I’d do,

no length to which I wouldn’t ever go,

no epic tale of woe I’d not go through,

no gesture graced with love that I’d not show.

I’ll rescue you from structures pitched with flames,

I’ll carry you at times when you can’t walk,

defend you when you when your foe unjustly blames,

and listen to you when you need to talk.

But I will not stand idly by and watch,

nor keep inside my words which bear the truth.

You’ve kicked your self-destruction up a notch;

no longer is this folly of your youth.

I’d die for you … that’s all I have to give.

But one thing I can’t do for you is live.

Tabula Rasa

the debtor who’s avoided obligation comes to pay

finally the mist has cleared, evaporating fog

food caked on the dishes has dissolved and floats away

the collar engineered to shock’s been taken off the dog

the agitated whirlpools mellow into swirls, serene

the horse imbibes the water to which he’s been often led

past offenses all forgotten wipe the slate off, clean

freeing room to write another story there, instead

 

Rain Dance

I love to spend my rainy days with you,

a good excuse to stay at home all day,

the freedom to do what we want to do.

Next time, there is a game I want to play.

I’ll drag you to the backyard and we’ll laugh.

Then, once we’re fully drenched, we’ll run inside.

We’ll grab a bottle, so we’ll each get half,

and lay down even though we’re neither dried.

We’ll both pretend we’re back in gay Paris

returning from our river dinner cruise,

so tickled our Parisian wine was free,

with soaking hair and soaking clothes and shoes …

then make love like we’re still in that hotel.

Instead, exhausted, fast asleep we fell.

Acid Rain

The tension flows freely and fills up the room,

condensing like dark clouds that bully the sky,

with clustering pustules that fester and bloom …

those unanswered questions about how and why.

Expanding balloons grow enormous and pop,

broadcasting a mist over all in their wake,

refusing to wilt, as their poison, they drop,

corroding facades, and exposing the fake.

Acidic remarks lash harsh stripes on the wall …

transmogrify love into caustic defeat.

They crush good intentions to dust where they fall,

ensuring destruction is swift and complete.

Stripes become solids, their coverage increasing.

Resentments pile high, exponential in growth.

Permanent statements– they live without ceasing–

obliterate all that was precious to both.

Freeze Frame

I’ve never seen you look so sexy as you do right now,

your sweet blond locks combed back with not one hair that’s out of place,

the signs of effort showing in the lines that grace your brow,

the sideways glance that’s hinting at the smile upon your face.

The muscles in your arms are taut, and ripple as you flex,

as they would do if anyone would use them as you are.

The light from o’er your head has caught your eyes’ soft hazel flecks,

illuminating, on your cheek, your fifth grade gym class scar.

If I could freeze this moment, I’d relive it everyday.

I’d take it out and cheer myself if I am feeling blue.

Of all the special characters that you, at times, portray,

the one that washes dishes makes me want to say, ‘I do.’

Mating Rituals

You see the bowerbird collecting trinkets to adorn

his bachelor pad so he’ll attract a mate?

He only picks blue glass and wrappers, ribbons that are torn,

arranges them obsessively, then waits.

Now look at tall giraffes, who have some curious foreplay.

A male will smell her urine, have a taste.

If he detects she’s ready, it’s a go for them today.

He then proceeds to mount her with due haste.

My human male, anticipating intercourse tonight,

prepares, like any species on the prowl.

With music playing he will get the ambiance just right,

complete with Kleenex, candle, and a towel.

All Those Things We Never Said

Let’s say all those things we never said.

Let’s sit down and talk until we’re done.

Let’s rewrite our history instead.

Let’s pretend our lives have just begun.

All those things we never said are here,

all those things we owe the other’s heart.

All those things we held back are so clear.

All those things demand that we re-start.

Let’s carve out new paths that intersect.

Let’s embark on journeys as a pair.

Let’s embrace those feelings we neglect.

Let’s no longer hide the love we share.

When We Kiss

I so love the way you still look at me when we two kiss,

’cause each time we do, there’s a wonder alive in your eyes,

as though no lips brushing on yours ever felt quite like this,

as though I intoxicate, giving you fabulous highs.

I think of a child with his presents when Christmas time comes,

your face lit, so grateful to find, such a treasure, you own.

The whole cake is not what you run for; you relish the crumbs,

like tasting my kiss is the greatest one pleasure you’ve known.

It makes me so tickled to know my lips bring you such joy,

that they are the cause of the grin you display on your face,

which shines through your manliness, showing your sweet little boy

who’s spent all his life searching for my warm kiss and embrace.

Splat

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*picture courtesy of PeterDargatz on pixabay.com

I’ve never observed you before with that look in your eyes,

your hair at attention, the veins bulging thick on your neck.

It took me a minute to comprehend, for me to realize

that you threw the punch that had put him face-down on the deck!

I promise you we were just talking; it’s not how it looked.

But still, it’s a compliment, you so protective and stressed.

I know that if he’d laid a finger, his goose would be cooked.

You sure made your point. He’s aware it’s for you that I’m dressed.

I’ve never before had a man start a fight for my hand,

and now that one has, there’s no need to repeat all this fuss.

You let me know that when it counts, my man will take a stand

and fight to ensure we two live our lives out as an “us.”

A Modern World

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Once upon a time in a modern-day world, I logged onto a dating website.

I looked for a friend or companion to hang with. I didn’t expect Mr. Right.

I read through the profiles. I flipped through them all. No one stood out from the start.

Then came an “interest” from someone I’d passed on. He set out to capture my heart.

In only two days, we’d exchanged several emails; he asked for my number to call.

The first time we spoke, this man asked me to dinner. Already, I knew that I’d fall.

Our date was so lovely, we both needed more. So I met him again and again.

In only three days from the day our eyes first met, I left behind all other men.

Somehow I knew that my life was completed. He voiced aloud what we both knew–

though we had just met, we intended to marry. Ecstatic, we both said, “I do.”

My friends and my family all thought I’d gone crazy, and nobody thought we would last.

I knew what they meant. I could see that, objectively, we got engaged way too fast.

After our marriage had lasted a few years, our story improved with passed time.

Now when we’re asked how long we’ve stayed together, we tell them, “This year makes it nine.”

A Regular Day

*picture courtesy of GLady on pixabay.com

roses-215237_640

  I breathe him in and taste his chest and face.

The forehead kiss he leans down to bestow.

That signifies that we are both in place.

I’m ever grateful on this ride to go.

(He says he wants to absorb me.)

The shadows catch the contours of his neck.

I take the role of lock, and he, the key.

I am but here on Earth…I have to check.

How still, his head, whose body’s slamming me–

(He could balance an egg on it.)

A glutton he has forced my body be.

I’m ruined now for any other sport.

Still twice a day…this gift he gives to me.

Methinks that none would credit my report.

(The look on his face is Mercy.)

I thrust and pull his body into mine.

He’s fluid, steady, powerful and hard….

We seat ourselves where lovers come to dine

and go about our love with no holds barred.

(I want to be absorbed.)

 Men since the dawn of time have wondered how,

and wanted to give what he gives with ease.

Of all the men, then, he should take a bow.

His lady’s first and he is set to please.

(She is also second.)

A healthy beast with stamina untold,

his graceful ways are far beyond just apt.

At full stride, he’s a vision to behold,

and when he’s done, I’m nothing less than rapt.

(He’s one of those people who’s good at everything.)

Thank You For…

couple-160331_640

 Thank you for loving me even when I’m at my worst.

Thank you for always forgiving and then moving on.

Thank you for quenching all my intellectual thirst.

Thank you for skyping your love to me when you are gone.

Thank you for reading a book if I’ve told you you should.

Thank you for trusting my judgment when you’d rather not.

Thank you for being so tall and for smelling so good.

Thank you for cheering me up when I’m sad and distraught.

Thank you for wanting me when I was so overweight.

Thank you for saying I’m beautiful all of the time.

Thank you for being so patient when I’m running late.

Thank you for eating junk food as my partner in crime.

Thank you for being my rock when I needed one so.

Thank you for taking me, with my old baggage and all.

Thank you for being the wittiest person I know.

Thank you for running so quickly whenever I call.

Thank you for doing some yoga and buying a mat.

Thank you for helping me plant those vines growing so high.

Thank you for finding my keys, wherever ’tis that they’re at.

Thank you for giving vegetarianism a try.

Thank you for knowing so quickly that I was The One.

Thank you for sharing the interesting things that you learn.

Thank you for solving most problems before they’ve begun.

Thank you for sharing with me all the money you earn.

Thank you for planning our finances for when we’re old.

Thank you for settling in with me right where we are.

Thank you for putting your dreams, when you have to, on hold.

Thank you for living life’s story with me, your co-star.

Thank you for promising you’ll be with me till the end.

Thank you for holding me tight as we both fall asleep.

Thank you for being a loyal, compassionate friend.

Thank you for thinking I’m pretty as my wrinkles creep.

Thank you for all these and thank you for what is to come.

I know you so well and I know I’ll have more to add on.

Though this is still incomplete, it is far better than none.

But I’ll stop for now, as I see it is finally dawn.

*picture courtesy of OpenClips on pixabay.com

What I Love About You

blue-166916_640*

   There are so many things I love about you, my sweet dear.

After much deliberation, my results are here.

I love that you delight in learning new things everyday.

You actively seek knowledge, and to you, it counts as play.

I love that you don’t ever mind admitting you don’ t know.

Through your quest to find the answer, I can see you grow.

You teach yourself such complicated things just from a book,

the kind, that for the author, a live teacher’s what it took.

When you make your mind up and decide to learn a skill,

you display such monumental focus and strong will.

When you learn to hone a craft, you’re always so damned brave.

Every bruise and scrape you get is dismissed with a wave.

I can’t count how many times I’ve seen you take a fall.

You get right back up and then again, you do it all.

I love the way you quickly fell in love with having cats.

I love the way you think I’m extra cute when I wear hats.

I love the way you give the things I love an honest chance.

I love that when we’re cooking we break into song and dance.

I love the way you know when you should scowl and say, “That bitch!”

I love the way you scratch my back when I can’t reach an itch.

Living with you means I always have great tech support.

I love the way that you don’t care at all ’bout watching sports.

I love the way you pet my hair each time we watch TV.

I love the way your very favorite hobby’s always me.

I love you never caring there’re no Anglos ’round for blocks.

I even love the way you wear your flip-flops with your socks.

I love all your encouragement to make me sit and write,

and that you love my cooking, and you tell me every night.

I love the way you pump my gas, no matter rain or shine.

I love the way you knew that I’d be yours and you’d be mine.

I love the way you love the chance to try a different food.

I love how you still treat me like when I was first pursued.

I love that you’ll come home tonight and take me in your arms,

exposing me in full to your sweet scent and manly charms.

I love that you’ll get up again as dawn announces day,

and work such long hours to provide and bring home hard-earned pay.

All the things I love about you, I could never write,

no matter if I never stopped and worked all day and night…

’cause there’s just no end to all the things I love ’bout you.

Through my words and poetry, I’ll see what I can do.

*photo courtesy of PDPics on pixabay.com

 

Were It Just That Simple…

Were it just that simple, I would only be my best.

I’d never let them see me sweat. I’d always ace the test.

Were it just that simple, I would save the whole damned world.

I’d smite all evil. Off the cliff, it neatly would be hurled.

Were it just that simple, I would keep an open mind.

I’d hear out every argument, and they’d pay back in kind.

Were it just that simple, I would never hurt a soul.

I’d always find a way to show amazing self-control.

Were it just that simple, I would be the perfect wife.

I’d give him everything he wants and bring his dreams to life.

Were it just that simple, all my dreams he would fulfill.

I could never want for more and know I never will.

Were it just that simple, I would only make him laugh.

I’d tell him jokes and watch him smile and cry on his behalf.

Were it just that simple, he would never make me cry.

                 He’d always be so patient and he’d never, ever die.

Were it just that simple, there would be no petty fights.

We’d fill our time with love and song and sweet romantic nights.

Were it just that simple, we would be the perfect pair.

And never to the other would we ever be unfair.

Were it just that simple, all the words I set to page

would keep us warm and cozy as the years advance our age.

Were it just that simple, I would run off with my man.

We’d live in bliss and reminisce ’bout how it all began.

But…things are not that simple. All men’s lives are full of woe.

To take that journey with him is the only way I’ll go.

So…it’s not that simple. There are worse things that could be.

Perfect blends are boring, dear…that’s why he’s here with me.

.

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