Let Me Love You Strange (or not at all)

“How ravished one could be without ever being touched. Ravished by dead words become obscene, and dead ideas become obsessions.” ~ Lady Chatterley’s Lover

I showed him the woman inside,
and gave him me—a wild story
of living sex and dirt and blood,
a poem inked in flesh and bone.

I told him I wanted to
dream words that inspire
tangible realities, and said,
“Ink no illusion you aren’t
willing (dying) to live.

Love me in ink, or not at all.
I am a poem in love—words
brewing normal inside out.
Let me love you strange,
relish in it (in us).”

I wanted him
in ink, hot and alive
inside flesh that burns
like love-drunk lust
trapped in shut lips.

I showed him I wanted
him (all of him) in ink,
or not at all.

Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Tuesday Platform.

the visual poetry

and two more poem bits, here and here

Because Winter’s Coming

When I miss you most,
I haiku made-up factoids
about things that grow.


a passion flower
blooming in New York City,
could be Audrey II


in autumn, leaves blush
red because winter’s coming,
bringing Snow to all

But, when my want grows
hot and wild, I think,

warm lavender oils,
filling me with dreams of us,
of you… lost in me

the wee notes…
– Someone dared me to write something that “includes haiku, horror comedy and Game of Thrones references, sexual longing, and emotional depth.” I gave it a go (for a book).
– I shared a passion flower (below) on Instagram and a friend suggested it looked like Audrey II. I agree. And, of course Jon Snow. Do I have to say a thing about Jon Snow?
– Linked to Poets United ~ Poetry Pantry 369.

and poetry for the eye