rogue poetry

eye contact

Posted by Tim at 14:19 on 2011/04/28

Apr 282011

Her eyes met mine with such a force
I had to look away, of course
Those glorious globes set me reeling
with a slightly queasy feeling
Quickly though, I recomposed
and focused on what I supposed
Was a safer point of view
as I wondered what to do
I knew our vision would not meet
While I focused on her feet

Slowly then I dared to raise
my timidly admiring gaze
I chanced a bit to lightly linger
and explore her graceful fingers
Till a horrid thought gave me a fit
“She thinks I’m ogling her tits!”
And so faceward, I glanced again
as she flashed the brightest grin
Then I dared to glimpse once more
Cerulean orbs that I adore

All That Glitters

Posted by Tim at 11:07 on 2011/04/25

Apr 252011

you trotted through my world
leaving broken promises
crushed dreams
and my shattered heart
in your wake
then grinned at all the shards

“See,” you said,
“I leave a sparkly trail
everywhere I go!”

fork

Posted by Tim at 02:19 on 2011/04/21

Apr 212011

One brief, bitter kiss
passed lightly ‘cross our lips.

A broken heart
is the most exquisite pain.

Scene of the

Posted by Tim at 17:11 on 2011/04/18

Apr 182011

crime of the heart
yellow tape stretched tight
DO NOT CROSS
DO NOT CROSS

The Rub

Posted by Tim at 04:02 on 2011/04/13

Apr 132011

I massage her feet.
She smiles and moans
and holds my hand
with her unusually long toes.

fortnight

Posted by Tim at 14:13 on 2011/04/11

Apr 112011

The full moon makes me lonely
Then my aches wane away
Till a new moon makes a promise
Of darker nights but brighter days

RRR: Driven

Posted by Tim at 19:02 on 2011/04/03

Apr 032011

I put this little project together last year for National Poetry Month. The inspiration for it was many years ago, but, as these things often do, it took on a new facet more recently.

Drained

Posted by Tim at 14:17 on 2011/01/07

Jan 072011

Steam envelopes me and
she stands beneath the spray
of the shower head.
“There’s not enough room for both of us,”
I protest,
breath hotter than the steam.
“Of course there is,”
she argues and moves closer.
I feel her body all along
the length of mine –
toes, knees, thighs, hips, breasts.
Her head on my chest,
her hands on my back.
Under soapy lather I feel her curves
then turn the water hotter, hotter
till I can’t stand it
but she does.
So I turn it colder, colder
than her icy heart,
her nails clawing at my back.
Her memory drips from
my trembling body
until my pain circles the drain.
She’s gone, I know she’s gone
but my heart won’t know
till I can shower alone.

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Blanketed

Posted by Tim at 21:15 on 2011/01/06

Jan 062011

There is a peculiar and particular silence
in new-fallen snow
such that one can hear the moonbeams
bouncing all around
and the north wind as she whispers,
“I am here,
I am here….”