a note*

Everything I post here I have previously published on the many other blogs I have had. This is a place for my favourites to rest. These are the wings that taught me i could fly and that there is life waiting, far beyond the ridge.

If you care to comment, just drop me an email at grayhawk77@yahoo.com


Tuesday, April 17, 2012

The Danger of Her Allure

as she sleeps, i peek under her skirt

she begins to wake, shake her hair

her eye opens-and spies me

she puts on her make up
i get hard

come baby, come in.
don't mind the sentry

i lose my breath
her breasts grace the sky

she slips her stockings on

come on baby, come closer
you know you want to
want me to love you
i long to kiss her sweet thighs

the sky becomes her elogance
i am hypnotized
by her beauty

but i begin to feel small
it grows dark
between her legs
but still, she beckons
blinding my fear

her legs close
her smell engulfs me
i lose my way
she says, come
come closer
inside me

darkness has come
i am inside of her
having eaten
and there is no
her beauty
only the allusion
that broke my heart

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Walking on a Cold Winter's Night

on the northern prairie
the sun settles in sublimity
a gentle mother's hush
into the blanket of winter snow

it paints the december ditch bank
where the shouldered pines gather
while careful does slide beneath
the skirts on their way to pond

over by the farm, the rooster goes still
as the last gasp of light
dims through the break in boards
while the outside wind echoes the sun's demise

over where the bare trees
mark the fence line, there is one
small and final explosion of blaze
before the stalks and branches turn shadow

on this cold winter's night
old men will peek curtains
to redless thermometers
while the chimney above billows gray

the lake will crack sharply at midnight
and the freezing maple will reply
the owls will sleep, waiting it out
while the moon grows a holy shroud

it is here, in this harshest of times
when life is at its fullest
it is here i am most alive
walking in the silent explosion
in the warmth, of a cold winter's night