rEtreating to the obscure art of pen and paper

From early afternoon to closing time yesterday, my office computer was running diagnostics, so I was left alone with nothing to do; nothing I could do in terms of work productivity, and I found myself falling back into well-worn reveries - wishing for an upcoming change to hurry. I reached for the keyboard thinking I'd come to this or another blog and write... until I realized again the computer was doing its own thing. I was shut out.

So I took out a pen and paper, immediately wondering how long it had been since I had done that, and began to write... What follows is the result of near two hours of drafts and revisions and I'm still not sure I like it.


We Came

We came to play
We came to sing our troths and vespers
At the closing of the day
We came to dance
We came to toast long love in whispers
At the closing of the day

But will it, my Love
Will that this night should last forever
That these few hours of sharing
Fit as sure as a glove
Take hold, my Love
Thrust through the burning heart of the sun
Don't let go, break away, cease from kissing me
Feel the tides of our love
Fit as tightly as a glove

We came to love
We came to drown in waters changed to wine
In the soft fall of night
We came to learn
We came to search each hill, leaf, and vine
in the soft call of night

But will it, my Love
Will that each touch should last forever
And our long years of sharing
Should defy the coming day
Take hold, my Love
Thrust through to the blinding light of the sun
Don't let go, break away, cease from rocking me
Feel the tides of our love
Fitting tight as a glove


ELAshley
110310.051521.6
Most Recent Revision:
110410.040459.6
110410.042707.6

someday soon...

...i'm going to turn this article into a very sensual poem, sans much of the crude imagery.


Mind Of Man: The Types Of Women That Really Turn Us On

something new...

Not sure what I feel about it yet, but for better or worse, here is something new.


Running Out of Ways

You are the golden path
The scents of jasmine and clove
The taste of berries succulent and dew
Naked in the tamarind grove
Dark and glistening 'neath the hems of Summer's few
We are golden in our desires
In all the garments we've wove

We are threshing floor embers
The fires of fullness and rising
Of warm summer starlings and lilies and crocus
Of naked lusts disguising
The weft and warp of which our love bespoke us
We are golden and spent like breath
And in those garments drowsing

You are the brush of silk
Over taut skin in arousal
The fires of femininity, and pear
~ Succulently coital
Sweet and moist every long limbed strand of honey hair
We are golden in our desires
Attired in love's apparel

We dress in the setting sun
'Neath a wakening of stars above
Feasts of body following feasts of flesh
~ I the strong hand and thee the soft glove
Submerging to cleanse and arising afresh
Golden again in our nightly throes
We are running out of ways to say we love

And delight in loving


ELAshley
030410.052626.6
Revisions:
030510.044102.6
030510.045216.6


I seem to always be drawn to eroticism... Is that typically male? Or am I but a fish in a sea of horny fishes?

It's something to ponder.