Nanowrimo Starts Tomorrow!

Are you up for the challenge? 50,000 words between November 1 and November 30.  If you haven't tried it before, why not sign up this year. It's free. It's fun. And by the third week of November you'll be discovering lots of new ways to wonder -- why...

mindf*#k 2

She is here again. She is here and wishes she were somewhere else, when she lets herself think about it on any meaningful level. She is here, with him. His hands are on her, in her, over her. She watches, detached, as he spends himself with her. It...

mindf*#k

She doesn't want romance tonight; not prudence, nor etiquette.  In her head, she has pushed him against the wall, divested him of his shirt, has pressed her bare breasts into him, kissed him, aroused him. She can feel his hardness against her...

NaNoWriMo

It is that time again! November is National Novel Writing Month and this will be my second year participating. The challenge is to write a novel of 50,000 words in just 30 days and 30 nights. Kickoff is only some 2.5 days away and I have...

Weaving Love

(Post from old account) A collaboration of thoughts ~by~ Punch and EZWAYZ   :heart:   Many would think me foolish Could they but glimpse upon my thoughts My heart The reflection of my eyes ...

Stone Roses

      Stone roses One supposes Not nearly as romantic As their softly-bloomed counterparts But of these hearts And of these thoughts Who is to say such Like...

Sexy Tuesday--closer to done

She is ambivalence even when there is nothing to choose. She can't be content with what she has; wants always something she cannot have. She thinks happiness is always something just about to happen, thinks it something to hold in her hand. There...

Truly Loves Jonathon

Everything we are exists in the extreme Everything we do is done without reserve We laugh We cry We console We validate We advise We disagree We hurt We hide But weaving through everything we do Everything we say ...

in process

She is ambivalence even where there is nothing to choose. She can't be happy with what she has. She thinks happiness is always something just about to happen, thinks it something to hold in her hand. She is caught between the two, two who would...

Singing of a Saw

Lying on the ridge of the mountains, The setting sun was reluctant to part. Its last glance from a distance Made the vast field golden. Smoke was curling upward From kitchen chimney.   Dad sat on an old tree stump With a...

Lily

Putting a bunch of lilies, into the deep blue sea and following it with my eyes, I know it drifts out to the east. It goes across the ocean,  floating on the spray. It goes to the Yangtse--    my mother river, your grave. ...

A Dream

             A Dream (After reading Charlie Smith’s The Palm, I try to describe a scene, a landscape of my childhood.)      I am sailing in a small boat                                                        with a single mast, ...

My Life (After Billy Collins)

       When I get up early in the morning,                                                        Taking a walk in my garden,                                                       I see it as the growth rings ...

Haiku

Altered Parts   Altered parts of her interior soul rakled from an evil past.   Lainey Lord

Serpent's Kiss

  SERPENT’S KISS... Passion builds to great duress,     wanton needs can’t be suppressed;         he clasps her naked body close,             against his dark and depraved host. Gliding o’er ~ his mouth takes hold,     her...

Puppet Master

  PUPPET MASTER   Fear... the Puppet Master brings -- old, knarled hands control her strings attached to limbs which he commands -- his fingers tug the thin, fine strands.   He calls a crowd of every age -- displays the...

longing

  how i long to travel the seas sailing through the oceans  the mysteries of the deep at my door in the midst of terror  when waves crash and boards creak the rocking of the boat how i long to travel the seas unhindered by the...

Sexy Tuesday--Writing sex, but not having it

Even as she writes it, she knows she will never be that girl. She knows even if he, whoever he this perfect, sexy he may be, he will never be hers. She knows it. And yet she writes it. She writes him thick, muscular, dark. She cannot make him...