let it be forever

tiny shaking shakes me out
the capsules on the floor tell me a tale
she who is ramrod straight
despairs in the midst

I sit with her on the floor
embrace her to me
she gives in
but only for a while

her voices soothes me
her arms hold me
she is again the strong mother
I am again the daughter

"forever, let it be forever, 
although that isn't enough either"

within the pages

in the pages of my poetry book
I find you pressed to love poems
when I untangle you, you resist
I too lie down beside you
submerging myself into the pages
the press of you into me
unleashes my hinges
the musty smell of poetry
embraces us both
I close the book enclosing us, 
open into you impusively
lost in the mazes of the pages

Trick or treat!" they shouted as the door opened...
within the book we were both a treat, no tricks

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Saturday Centus: Trick or treat!" they shouted as the door opened...

tattoos, race car, mobile oil and book

he, in that oil-stained overall
works around his racing car
with single-minded passion
that defies everything

she sits in the shade with a book-
reading with absorption

when heat gets to him
the overall is off
sweat trickles down
highlighting his tattoos

she steals a glance-
watches the play of muscles

he feels it too-
measures that intensity
through his own flared feeling
teeters up from his work

her book drops, pages dog-ear
with baited breath, she waits for him

isn't it all so ideal-
her tattooed male smells of mobile oil,
sweat, and flared desire
she succumbing to it all

Covert Love----Sonnet

studiously she avoids gazing in that direction
where he sits nonchalant, almost uncaring-
minds send out signals; silence so chilling,
picking up vibrations, she answers the question

being very still, with almost no expression,
she slowly stands with her eyes measuring
the distance, she glides toward his beckoning
mind. her heart beat, was by any indication

making her state, an object of ardent desire;
visible in her stance, in her jerky mannerisms.
smoldering flame, blazing; intense, luminous

pulling him in too; each bursting vein on fire
blowing apart their semblance, volumes
of convulsions still unseen, causing chaos.
..................................................................
For three days I had been struggling to write. After a short period of dryness, my muse was kind enough to let me write.

* I have moved this to top as this got ignored after posting for Poetry Thursday.