the rendezvous

We’ve  cleaned  our shabby haven, tossed  a mattress onto the bare floor.  At the edge of the bed you sip whiskey the color of your eyes that when you are aroused erupt in  hues of  green and gold. Facing  the dingy  wall I shut my eyes and listen  to the whir of the rusty fan. I decide I  can’t do this anymore, that this can’t go on. Your hand reaches for me and I shrug it off. In a flickering instant we  fade into our own space.  I’ve been practicing the art of slipping away  and from above I look down on  us until my eyes shut in sleep.  When I wake you offer me drags from your amber leaf cigarette,  we watch the curl of our smoke vaporize into the nicotine stained ceiling.   I pull the linens over my cold skin.  Lately  you tell me this is not enough.  You don’t know the burden of commitment.  Your sad eyes attack me when I am most vulnerable.   To distract you I pull the covers away and we make love, whisper profanities to one another, laugh and fall away  exhausted.  Your eyes  sparkle like stardust,  a small boy at the top of a Ferris wheel.   Secretly I vow to end it,  to never meet you here again but my heart is a red sports car racing along the edge of a cliff.


Image result for art by Mark Spain

art by Mark Spain


La Audacia de Aquiles

It is an honor to be included in the  below referenced  entry  at La Audacia de Aquiles.

Aquileana has worked her magic and brought the mythical god Hephaestus to us in all the splendor that only she can weave. The beautifully told quest of this Greek  gods journey is enthralling and told as only she can do.  Aquileana  invited me to  write a poem in collaboration with her story ( a challenge with such a hard act to follow!) I hope you will visit her outstanding blog. Thank you for this honor Aquileana, joining you was such fun.

“A Poem” – It’s World Poetry Day – this one’s for you 💐

I wrote this poem

just for you.

I want it to be perfect,

its verses bright as a

a summer day.

Billowy clouds,

carnations ascending

from a garden I’ve created.

Lean back in my rose

colored swing and

day dream until

it is time  to leave.

I want you to rule…

I don’t want to own,

only to visit.


Translation by Bernd at Neues Vom Hutschi


“Ein Gedicht” – Es ist Welttag der Poesie – dieses ist für dich

Ich schrieb dieses Gedicht
nur für dich.
Ich möchte, dass es perfekt sei,
mit Versen, hell wie ein
ein Sommertag.
Wallende Wolken,
aufsteigende Nelken
aus einem Garten, den ich erschaffen habe.
Lehn dich zurück in meine Rosenblüte,
eine farbige Schaukel und
geb dich Tagträumen hin,
bis es Zeit ist zu gehen.
Ich möchte, dass du regierst …
Ich will nicht besitzen,
nur dabei sein.

Still Life

I have forsaken

hybrids for humble

swells of wildflowers,

a token of garland winding

well worn pathways

above the roots of giants,

dispersing flax seed  for

hummingbirds that hover

over  flowers.

Let me live in  still life

adorning urns of lovers

basking in the amber glow

of untamed gardens.

Bouquet de Fleurs de Paul GAUGUIN

Paul Gauguin – – Bouquet de Fleurs – 1899

into the night (translated by Bernd)

a soft wave  I  cascade

around you, a distant diamond

set in the dark felt of night.

I have wrapped shadowy limbs

ensnared you in slender reeds

of wanting shattered on the sea

wall of silence.

In the dead of night

I feel you flowing through me

a soft breeze of whispers and I

confess that I have not forgotten

my  lost  jewel of the  sea.

Translation by Bernd at Neues vom Hutschi


Heartafire: In die Nacht

Eine weiche Welle wirble ich
um dich, einen fernen Diamanten,
gesetzt in den dunklen Samt der Nacht.
Ich umhüllte schattige Glieder,
umwand dich in schlankem Schilf,
ein Wunsch, auf dem Meer zu zerschellen,
einer Mauer des Schweigens.
In der Totenstille der Nacht
fühle ich, wie du mich durchfließt,
ein weicher Hauch aus Flüstern, und ich
gestehe, dass ich es vergaß,
mein verlorenes Juwel des Meeres.




Desert Rose

you bloom in my heart,

your touch an elusive memory

on my skin.

In dreams I belly dance in copper deserts,

the wind of the Sahara whips the  bronze scarf

around my waist.

Grasping your outstretched hand

I pull you into the oasis we no longer occupy.

You lock the doors behind you.

Feasting on nectarines and honeyed liqueur

you untie me with elegant fingers.

In the desert sand  our erotic graffiti blows

out and away on a breeze below the pewter moon

and in its place  imprints of lost lovers.

a reverie

The banks of the river  are still ,

there is nothing  left but the shells of cicadas.

We once fixed our canoe to the grassy paddock

before it  succumbed to cracked earth and dry leaves.

The  sun beats down  on sophistry  and  lies burn

bright with  neon.

Escape   into  flowering fields of  poems

that begin at dawn.

Grow drunk  on sunsets and the

emerald grass below a mossy tree.

Surrender to a reverie yet to be created.






Women’s Day 2017

” It is foolish for women to pretend they are equal to men, they are far superior and always have been.  Whatever you give a woman she will make greater. If you give her sperm , she will give  you a baby. If you give her a house, she will give to you a home. Give her groceries, she will make for you a meal.  Give her  a smile…she will give you her heart”.

William Golding

Happy Women’s Day ladies ❤️️

Rishav K Singh

Project Theos


The best in WWII aviation history


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Book to the Future

More book than a mad 'orse

Poeta da Garrafa

Este sítio expõem a palavra, a imagem, a voz da minha poesia. Foto: Odilon Machado de Lourenço.


a world travel photo blog by Jackie Hadel

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My personal opinions about.......stuff (as if you care!)

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Just posting my thoughts, pictures and the link below is my sons web site

Dean J. Baker - Poetry, and prose poems

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the Siren has a new home

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The writer gives life to a story, the reader keeps it alive.


Todo aquello que sale de mi mente con buenos propositos


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