midnightpoet

Thanks so much Ron! I really appreciate the constructive criticism. I'm always looking for ways to improve on things I've already written and on my future writings. Your point is very good, and I will consider revising the piece in that area.

anotherronism

I've got this. I just wrote it but have never, ever stopped thinking about it... MAybe this is catharcis (sp?)

I'll call it "Her" Why not?

My first girlfriend was ‘Michelle’.

She was eighteen. I was thirteen.

We’d managed to bypass all the regular conventions. That was the point.

She could drive. I had seven pubic hairs.

She could buy beer.

I knew all the ditties to all the tv shows.

She was horny.

I hadn’t a clue.

But!

But!

We had this one summer.

It was so, so perfect.

To my boy-friends – I was a god.

To her girl-friends – I was oh so cute. Where-ever did she find me?

We could talk. That was our thing.

She was far older and intimidated me in oh, so many ways.

But when it came to talking – she was a novice. There was nothing I couldn’t talk about – forever. I was the expert.

And then there was petting. Turns out I have a knack for it.

She was oh so in control… Until she wasn’t. Ya know what I mean???

Then I found myself in control – but in control of what?

And THAT! THAT is the question.

I didn’t know then and I don’t think I know now.

A time came.

A time came when this all came to a head.

I was in my underwear. She was naked.

Her fingers pressed against an area I had never even considered.

And then…

And then…

That’s when her mother walked in…

Just as Michelle threw the flower pot at me. At me! At me!

For not performing.

Performing what?

Chris (spelled like the man’s name but it was so, so feminine on Michelle’s mother) was tender and kind.

She got me up and got me dressed.

She did not berate her daughter until I was out of earshot (which I was most definitely not!)

It was strange – how she started – she was aghast her daughter would soil the carpet thus…

Seriously. I’m not kidding.

midnightpoet

Do you remember my name?
I wrote it in sand that night we walked
along the beach together.
My hand fit just perfectly in yours.
The stars glittered in the sky and sang to us.
The moon beams that reflected in the waves
cast an aura about us,
and we were the only two people on earth.

You kissed me that night,
and told me you loved me.
It was all very real
and very surreal.
I could hear your breathing,
and feel your heart beat
as I placed my head on your chest,
and we lay there in the sand.

As we were getting up to leave,
you asked me my name.
I traced it in the sand at our feet,
and smiled at you.
We walked again down the shoreline,
and as the lights of the city hit us,
we parted ways.

Now, I see you sitting there,
having lunch with your wife.
She's smiling at you in much the same way
that I did after writing my name in the sand.
All I want to do is go into that café,
lay my hand on your shoulder,
and ask you:
Do you remember my name?

matthew

WOW!!! breath taking...

anotherronism

Soda: Was this at Assateaque (sp?) Island in Maryland per chance?

Dragon

Okay, here's a little poem. Please remember, I am not a poet so it probably isn't very good.

Ode To A Tail-less Cat

I oft times ponder my foolish decision to adopt a manx cat such as you
You are not a dreamer, my small orange friend, but a hunter of great renown
Known to all in the house as a wily killer of evil balls of yarn
You leave their entrails for me to find in every room
And I often wonder how my aloe vera plants have wronged you
That you feel you must be avenged upon them.

Should I interpret that sparkling gleam as intelligence
Or is it simply mischief I see there?
Do you see some feline prophecy in the glass beads you scatter about so artfully?
Or in the tidily braided embroidery thread you leave in tangles skeins?

And I think, as I listen to your strident voice
Speaking your request for supper long before your supper time
I am in mourning for the nights once filled with peaceful sleep.
Do you understand my frustration
As I tower over you with water bottle in hand?

Perhaps you harass your brother out of a deep feeling of tail-envy
Or is it just because he is such a splendid victim?
I think you cannot know the irony
That your attempts to play are what distress him so.

I think it is your very nature to be exasperating
But when you climb under the covers and snuggle into my arms
Purring so delightfully
I know why I made that decision
To take a manx cat into my life.

SabraAngel

*gasp* How did this miss my eye! *scrambles over papers and notes*

SabraAngel

http://www.thinkdraw.com/picture.php?pictureId=42837
~A Journey~

Come with me and I'll take you on a journey. An amazing journey of a penny less photographer.

Close you eyes, and imagine that you are standing in a field. for miles and miles around you there is nothing but fields and a few trees. Open your eyes farther and you see off in the distance a tall stone structure covered in bright green vines. The photographer's instint kicks in and you know you must make that trip to get that perfect picture.

The mind now takes over your body.

Sight: You see bright blue skies overhead, and sparse earth below, you keep your eyes on your feet so not to trip, briefly looking up to look at your goal. The Stone Silo. As you walk though the field you see spiders running from hiding spot to hiding spot and little frogs jumping out of your way. Small creeks that make your journey tougher. But you were not born to quit so still you press on

Sounds: You are miles from any real human life, as you tune in to your senses you hear birds chirping a joyful tune and the wind blowing through the trees, the sound of your steps as it crunches on old corn stems and the squishing sound as you walk through mud, praying not to slip and fall.

Touch: You feel the pounding in your heart as you press on, the throbbing in your legs as the mussels tire, the sweat pouring down your face, the hot sun beating relentlessly down upon you. Dryness in your mouth as you begin to thirst.

Smells: You are heaving by now, tired because it is a long journey, as you breath in you notice the scents that await you outside. At first you smell the sweet sent of pollen as the wind carries it by, but as you tramp on you begins to notice other smells, the dirt and its earthiness mixed in with the hides of the cattle you know are near by, then as a breath of wind blows by you smell the salty sweat on you skin as the sun beats down upon you. over and over again the same scents repeat themselves.

One foot after the other you continue, knowing what a wonderful scene you have once you reach it. Wanting to share that one picture with everyone you know thinking it would make their day that much brighter. Again and again your mind runs through all the sights, sounds, smells, and how it all feels to you.

Upon reaching your goal and capturing that precious moment you turn and make your way back to where you started, listing to all around you breathing in the wonders of nature and you hear the still small laughter, the Laughter of God as he enjoys seeing you bask in the pure wonder of his creation.

Dragon

SabraAngel, you have a true talent for writing. You made me feel like I was really there. I really want to see that picture now.

SabraAngel

I have that and the Picture up on my FB.

SabraAngel

~Nightfall~

Prologue:
It was midnight and the moon had not risen. In the pitch black forest of east Washington, a little girl ran for her life. Fear clouded her vision and s he stumbled over the roots of the massive trees. With each step she took pain shot up to her hips. I’ll never make it. She thought desperately. She paused to listen, ears straining for the slightest of noises. Snap. With the ever growing closer foot falls, she felt chills rippling through her spine followed by the warmth of heat as it spread across her chest and up her neck ending at the tips of each hair. Panic. With the rest of her strength she ran blindly through the woods. Then with a piercing cry she disappeared. Night had fallen.