The Lighthouse Lover

The salty air of an open sea,
Is vast and magnificent,
The coming of dusk brings utmost glee,
For the woman awaiting the taste of her lover’s scent.

She goes alone, swift with a lover’s zeal,
She anticipates each moment, each wondrous feel,
Of his masterful hands,
Carefully exploring forbidden lands.

And the lighthouse stands with kind intent,
Her lover beckons at last, with love so salient.
And as they emerge winding stairs,
There haste is interrupted only by caressing stares.

And as a door is thrust open,
He descends on knees with effortless adept.
Bringing her thereafter, open,
He descends ardently in her swollen depth.

The movement lingering and divine with grace,
Is made urgent with ravenous kisses, and a rapturous pace.
And the crescendo is jubilantly intense.
The lovers fall unabashedly into its ecstatic eminence.

And as a door is thrust open,
It is the lover’s beholden.
A deathly struggle begins,
Her lover is vanquished, the light dims.

Killed now by a husband’s rage,
She will no longer the scent of her lover taste,
She descends the great height of the lighthouse with haste,
No longer subject to the scorn of a brutal hate.

And the lighthouse stands with kind intent,
Her lover beckons at last, with love so salient.

The Essence of Waves

I watch the motion of agitated waters keenly,
The brash, crashing of water, torments the shore meekly.
And from the pier, I am infused in its sheer dominance,
Few words describe entirely its latent importance.

As it washes over the ruination of a battered dock,
I become a part of it, perfectly still, motionless rock.
I can feel the cleansing of its explicit force.
I feel somehow repaired as it stays on its euphoric course.

And the tides become your artful hands,
Ravishing my body, permeating each delicate strand.
Now, the saltiness of the sea, transforms into your disarming scent.
And this, our bodies, triumphantly transcend.

Climatically, new waters burst forth, as it purifies a place once dismal.
I am taken away in its warmth, submerged in this my baptismal.

And now the waves recede,
How phenomenal they are,
I now make my retreat.
Into a world afar.

Ode to My Child

Precious babe you are when you lay sleeping,
Eyes closed, far from this world, in new lands, dreaming.

And then you emerge without fail at the hour of five in the AM,
And though I slumber, you will drag me out of bed, I have no choice then.
On days when I am too tired to awake on your command,
You slap me in the face, you cry, you demand.

And once you have got what you desire you leave me be for a few.
How precious the minutes are when I am without you.
Until I am ready to do what must be done,
You attack, you plague me, and the wicked hours have begun.

I am at the mercy of the flying bottle, the flying shoe.
The tantrums, the destruction, the sh’ ups, oh lord the flying shoe.

And the infliction does not end until the very end of night,
When to bed you go promptly two hours past nine.

Precious babe you are when you lay sleeping,
Eyes closed far from this world, in new lands, dreaming.