PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

When I think of her,

I want to hold her hand and walk along the beach,

Feel the sand and water rush betwen my toes,

Taste the salty air,

And know there is no sweeter smell than her.

Because, that will be the one thing I notice most,

With each wave, a billow of air will roll over her,

Bringing not only her scent,

But every nuance of her into my body.



Her voice can calm my nerves so easily,

And her words can strike like fire,

Make my heart race,

My blood boil,

My head swoon.



Because she has chosen to be in my life,

I have to keep asking myself,

What Karmic thing have I done,

That was so great...I deserve to be in her presence.



She is almost too much for me to bare,

As I listen to her talk at work,

Or over the phone,

This big funnel perch's itself into my heart,

And aloe and healing ointments flood in.

And she doesn't even have to speak to me directly,

And I can still feel the sensations,

I wonder if I'll ever be filled,

Because all I feel is the rush coming in.

Floods and Waves of simple presence.



I want to take her to a place on my Grandfather's old farm.

There is a creek that often dries up in the summer,

But in the middle of that very creek bed,

My grandfather poured a huge slab of concrete.

Too many injuries were happening to the horses

Because of brittle pieces of limestone piercing their hooves.



On some hot, sweltering day,

When the clouds roll in,

And the air smells sweet,

I want to lay her down on that warm slab,

In the middle of the rain.

I want to feel the warmth of the cement,

The coolness of the rain,

The rising steam.

I want to make love to her there,

To feel the rain on our bodies.

To taste it on her lips.

Then later, I want to make love to her again,

After some wine,

And making wishes on falling stars that shoot across the sky.



I have a favorite spot near a lake,

Where I want to build a roaring fire.

Sit and drink hot coco,

Listen to the lapping water,

The waining of crickets and frogs,

And watch the moon rise orange in the black October sky.

At that time of year,

The moon is ominous and huge.

I crave to see God's paintbrush cast a glow over her...

I'm already taken by her eyes.



I want to do things together,

Money can't buy.



I want to take her to my Great Grandmother's Iris Garden.

My Grandmother's house sits empty,

Socked away in a remote part of town.

From the front,

One wouldn't think much of the home,

But the smell would conquer you within half a block.

You see, Grandma Moore planted and cultivated,

Over 90 different types of Iris's.

The back yard looks like a carpet of color,

Vibrant and warm,

Just like Tracy.



I want to swim with her in a private pool,

Neck and kiss,

Then neck and kiss some more.



I want to find a studio,

Make a stretch canvass that covers the whole floor.

Then invite her over,

Take a brush and paint her body,

And have her paint mine.

Then lie on the canvass,

Smearing paint everywhere,

To giggle like school kids,

And laugh like lovers.



I want to go to a park on a pleasant sunny day,

Lie on a blanket,

And feed her strawberries.



I want to just go on a simple walk with her,

My arm around her,

My other holding onto Misty's leash.



I want to meet her children,

See the miracle of her in them.



And maybe,

Go to her church to hear her sing.

I'm sure I will be speechless,

Because a caged bird has much time to practice.



I will force myself to be tender,

To stand in my strengths,

Not fall into my weakness to just consume her.

I want to reach into her heart,

Leave a definate, but indelible impression,

Of what I'm really about.



Anyone can have sex,

But few can make things an art.

I want to take my time,

Make her crave my touch,

Desire me like I'm air,

Then when she can't take anymore,

I want to catch her,

Kiss her long and hard,

Give her enough to keep craving,

Then show her all over again,

Just what I'm about.



I am fun, and lovership,

I have integrity, I'm honest and true.

Loyal nearly to a fault,

DEVOTED.



That's right, devoted.

I know something powerful lurks behind those eyes,

And I don't want to tame it,

If it's pain and insecurity,

I want to gently love it away.

If it's confidence,

I want to be the one who cheers her on.



But most of all,

Even if only in her mind,

At the end of every day,

I want to be the one she comes back to...



For the love from a pro.