Save This Dance

Will you love me kinder, tender of my dreamscapes,

While passion flares will softness still hold sway,

Shall we dance with longing through the nighttimes

All fears and inhibitions held at bay.

Will we be such lovers on the dancefloor swaying,

Beat to beat, hearts tempoed to the tune,

Shall we weave and wax our words and feelings,

Silhouettes reflected in ballroom.

Will we tango footsteps, bodies fusing

Wilder yet though cherished in the dance,

Shall we meet upon the moonlit parquet,

Tender lovers teaching of romance.

Will the thrum of love keep right on beating

As planets twirl and sunlight filters through,

Shall divinity of the dance we shared in passing

Resist the light and save my dreams of you.

Catching Grace

If you can close your eyes

and catch grace

in the image of a face

ever or never seen,

inhale tenderness

fragrant with soft murmurings,

let their whispers drift

through internal alleyways,

reaching and searching

inner outerlimits,

breathing ever more deeply,

for one precious moment

infusing all 

– not one drop to be lost –

you have channelled love,

paused

on the threshold

of heaven,

looked into a soul

and known.

Balls Of Steel

I feel the need to justify this piece.

I don’t hate men. Far from it. There are quite a few I’d like to show my appreciation of. In my dreams!

But. I have a sister – two actually- and one of them has just had a kick in the balls by someone who calls himself a man. I KNOW not all men are like this.

 

OUR balls are made of steel.

WE keep them hidden inside,

Unaffected by temperature and treason.

Governed by reason.

And humungous quantities of love.

OUR balls allow hands-free penalties

And rarely swing with abandonment

Even while YOU think irrationally of

OUR reasoning

That broods on permutations

And shelters our most vulnerable parts

With drops of tears.

 

OUR tender parts need hiding from

The world of hurt we feel.

They need to rise and feed

The children, pack their lunch

And send them off with cheer and change

In pockets

That are not meddled with by hands

Fumbling for satisfaction in the moment.

 

OUR balls are mostly resistant to immediate gratification,

Tell YOU to ‘get them right roon ye’

When threat of compromise

Compromises

Those we love beyond OUR own balls.

We are WOMAN! WE have balls!

They hurt.

And then they heal.

‘What Do Women Want?’

Now Suz, you have nailed it, as a female with a mind,

Experience in womanhood. Men must seek and so they’ll find

That much of what a woman wants is tethered to the stars.

I know they say that we hail from Venus while men exist on Mars.

 

A cosmic soul comparison to highlight different spheres,

A lifetime spent in wondering, overcoming fears.

But planets should collide in space in some ethereal way

And, on earth, we bump together too but all men have to say, is

 

‘Darling, what’s your heart’s desire? Tell me, I will try.

I’ll promise love eternally and search until I die,

To overcome your subtleties, learn to read your clues,

Endeavour to be true all days, pay what is your due.

 

I’ll harness stars and catch the moon, remove obstacles in our path,

I’ll humour you when you are blue, I’ll try to make you laugh.

I’ll even buy you personals when Christmas comes along,

I’ll sing to you with lover’s voice and soothe you with my song.

 

Is that enough to win your heart? What more, please, pray me tell,

Guessing at your nuances, men don’t do that very well.’

Now that’s a start, if men are willing to read the woman’s book,

They’ll tell you if you really ask. And listen, that’s the hook.

 

‘You’ve said it all, that’s all I ask. Willingness to show,

Hidden voice within my head, you’re trying to understand and know.

Woo me with a sense of worth, seasons full of longing,

Ensure your heart is open wide, a place I may belong in.

 

Answer me in sentences, not cryptic yes or no’s.

We use our words expressively, while your dearth quite often shows

That what we’re trying to say to you goes right over your head.

Then we lose the plot at you and you wonder what you said.

 

The point you see is you don’t say much to express all that is real

You seem to think we should absorb, osmosis-like, what you feel.

To you, a word or two should do, a nod or gesture feint

To speak your love, exact desires. It doesn’t work! Not quaint!

 

Exactitude in what you feel, expressed in tender giving,

From heart and soul and mind as well; Woman’s way for living.

Just a thought or two for you. Hope it’s not too much.

That it doesn’t blow your mind wide open at all that mush and such

 

Anti-male, Jessie-like, entrapments for the ‘soft’.

Not soft at all but strength it shows; we’ll hold you so aloft

If all that you convey to us is done with purest love

And sensual thrown in, for good measure. That might just be enough!’

 

No more I’ll say. I’m telling you, women speak in heaps,

But not all we say is heeded, a pity, it would keep

Unnecessary confusion from cluttering up our way.

Openness and honesty might help to win the day.

 

Remember though that truthfulness, although a wondrous gift,

Should not be used when she asks, ‘Does my bum look big in this?’

A gentle smile, no smirks, not wise, if you want to keep your teeth.

See, it’s all quite easy. Next question, if you please!

Renewal

Fevered brow needs cooling calm.

Cold compress cures the curse,

Gentleness and soothing unction, on

Malaise, helps to nurse.

 

Tranquil tunes in tender tempo,

Pianissimo,

Repose in peaceful pleasured points,

Slumber you may know.

 

A restful sleep of purest bliss,

All sound a healing balm,

Soft hands to ease, know surcease,

Negating all mind’s harm.

 

Mild ecstasy in blessedness,

Relief from all life’s woe,

Simply salved by solicitude,

Everyone must know

 

A humbler sort of paradise,

A sweeter song of praise,

That life renews and lives again

Each dawn of all new days.

The Night Is Young

The night is young,

Quoth he to me,

All sounds around

Are calm.

Let me caress you

Lovingly,

A gentle,

Soothing balm

 

Of scented oil

Stroked on

Your flesh,

Porcelain in hue.

Valleys of

Togetherness

And mountain peaks

We’ll view.       

 

A tender kiss

Won’t bid adieu,

With passion’s flame

Ignite.

Come quietly,

To me,

My love.

Youthful is the night.

 

OK, Oliana, this one’s down to you. ‘The night is young’, you said.