Posts Tagged ‘Poem’


Skin needs touch to be.
Fingers tracing down the spine,
Leaves a fire wake

As the kiss of sun
touches skin winter tired
Instantly revives

Warm hands dipped in oil
Kneading away knots, tension
Contentment descends

The sting of nettle
The discomfort and itch
Irritates yet wakes

A lovers caress
Tender, passionate, urgent
Arouses, ignites

Skin needs touch to be
Abundant, sensitive, real
Lavished and honest.


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Day 332 - Believe in Roses

“I believe in roses. And I believe in putting roses into a vase and sitting the vase on the table. I believe in getting lost and being found, I believe in going barefoot, and in laughter! My religion is to laugh at myself, whenever I can! I believe in the sunlight and in grey skies with big, beautiful clouds!” ~ C. JoyBell C.

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Day 311 - Purple Shroud

Behind her purple shroud she hid
Watching the people and all that they did
Seeing the world through a purple haze
Hidden enough to avoid their gaze
Behind her purple shroud she hid
And what she saw made her glad she did.


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Day 191 - Ode to a dancer

This was sent to me today by a lovely dancer friend. Thought I’d share…

Ode to a dancer:
IF you can keep your lead when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all partners doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Whilst your partner fastens their shoes,
or looks around forlornly stating,
“You’ll have to wait, look at the toilet queues”

If you can style – and not make style your master;
If you can jive – and not make jive your aim;
If you can look upon each toe treading disaster
and treat it with a smile “it’s all in the game”.
If you can bear to hear your favourite track of which you’ve spoken
Twisted by DJ’s with their fancy laptop tools,
Or watch the things you’ve taught wrecked, broken,
by dancers not caring for the rules:

If you can waltz in crowds and stay in the space around you,
Or sway and dip to blues without losing touch,
If neither stilettos nor flailing elbows hurt you,
and all partners count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill each unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of joyous, rhythmic fun,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a dancer, my son!

Apologies to Rudyard Kipling – and with grateful thanks to my friend, DP.

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