here at this setting,

was a lady,

tall with long straight blonde hair

reading her newspaper

on a porch swing.

this porch with various flowers

and a feeder hanging

in her front view.

here the hummingbird

works the stamen –

so vital for propagation –

like writing love letters –

each flower – the blend of beauty.

to the feeder it went,

she attracted it to the nectar.

after all – she was sugar too.

that elongated bill

kept going after the port blossom,

like the poet’s tongue

conveys sweetness in romantic flavor.

this hummingbird

has found its territory,

especially since she knew

her front porch

was all about attraction.

it’s a feel

you have to have.

when it’s side by side,

it’s a unison companion.

sometimes trials get in the way –

they carve up your spirit

until one day

you get off your belly

in the darkened valley.

life starts to fall in place –

the soul no longer an enemy.

then it comes to fruition

when she takes your hand,

“with me you will feel the tingle.”

a little cranky –

like a child without a toy,

is a tantrum that wails.

this is what happens

when a poem

cries out for a little attention.

i click the pic

with the lady,

and that is enough

to explore the curves

on this cold november night.

to the naked eye,

i found that their souls

stalked me

in their points of views.

it’s no wonder

i learned about value.

you’d never guess

i was reading poems

by women – would you?

this pillow

of contoured depression,

are kisses

left in sensual gestures

in all the attention.

eyelids now flutter

with so much life

that it turns heads,

like that of a poet

and a lover

fluffing up the pillow afterwards.

these words –

they are a tough sell.

goes with the territory

in how they originate.

tighten them up –

put the squeeze on.

that squeaky sound

can work wonders

with just the right pitch.

a seduction of arousal

is upon you

to experience

a little erotic pleasure

by the caresses

i leave

to get you

in the mood

for a little gratification

to entice the action

of coming together

and fall deeply in love

with the spoken word.

a slow entry

i left upon her

to create sensation.

she says:

sweet spots need nurtured.

that means emotives matter.

i say:

you drive a hard bargain.

she says:

members only

must pay their dues.

i say:

**uckin greedy aren’t we.

sometimes you don’t want

to feel tomorrow.

those dark clouds

taint your existence

to lose the balance of life.

it’s easier to feel disenchanted

when you don’t want

to wake to the sunshine

that can be promised

when you need to reach for it.

sometimes dreams

are so empty

that you are haunted

with faded desire

and keep drifting into sorrow.

all that emptiness

is drawing the curtains

across your soul –

a nevermind solution.

changes are never easy,

but just getting back into the blue,

you’ll start to feel again.

sometimes all it takes

is for someone to hold you,

and maybe you’d find love again.

grab some stick matches –
lay them out in the shape
of the human body
with the sulphur ends outward.
now light each end.
what do you see?
the mind, hands and feet
are definitely on fire.
that is the tingling feeling
a poet gets every time
a creation is created.
the full effect,
is the energy it provides
for a new poet.