Passionate people
dancing and soaked beneath the rain
in the streets outside of

Cavalier, my armor bears th’ sun,
Silver shot breastplate marked and bit,
My shield wears dents

I howl at the moon, my throat crackling,
Gruly fangs drip of grim thick spit morose,
Eyes dilate

I am wandering this place, not lost
but thinking, wondering why I stay here.

The eaves above

Thinking how her body rises
to meet his

he promises
himself

never let her down.

I want to write words on you -
adventures and promises
high moments and lifetimes

ideas that

Contained in such a handsome vessel
I was unaware of it's caustic nature,
the lid remained

I love,
orange skies and purple mountains,
turquoise seas and silver fountains,
paddling along

Whenever she enters my atmosphere,
I feel bewitched and convinced
That we're supposed to be

It's beyond the pad and pen,
And bigger than what I'd say.
Really, I could only say amen,
To

I won't waste another one of these pages,
Yet I have to say this once more.
I've met so many

You can tell when someone loves you;
It's that look within their eyes.
You know how they think of

I know that I've had too much,
Even though I yearn for more.
It's time to say enough is

I want to be amazing just for you,
Along with each word that I write.
Though I'm not sure how

You're the one dream, I believe, that is to

I really do think you're one of a kind;
You have me captivated.
There's no confusion with you on

I will just be honest;
I don't want to push you away.
I wish to tell you where my heart is;
It's

Sometimes
We share nothing but bath water,
Other times
We are all Jammy Dodger hearts.

From

Mysterious, odd, stirring sentiments
Seizing mind, soul and body, undeterred
Finding ways to

In the heat
I simmer
Dancing to the beat
Of my solo drummer

Gyrating to my lover's call
A

Make Love.

Ignore the media monkeys,
switch off sex-crazed TV,

anyone might please the

Ron Poetry's
THICK THURSDAY. .
NOTHING LIKE A BEAUTIFUL THICK CHOCOLATE WOMAN..

... DESPITE HOW

I want to know the secret.
If I turn these pages fast enough,
I’ll get to the end
Will it say

I hope my mistakes don't return to haunt me;
God, I pray, send your angels to guard me.
When the

I'm thankful for her trust,
Yet once I'd lusted for her frame.
I know that there is no

Caressing a glass of Barolo,
With the warmth of a hand plaid with passion,
The scent permeating to

show me what your made of
all that glitter and gold
spontaneous emotions
roll around like

Heart-space.

I tread shallow waters
venture into vulnerability.

Wade into warm silky

To walk the wilting grass oh grievance/
See the falling rain from high/
Feel the wind with it’s

The writer writes fervently in weeps of expression, in the hopes of releasing the desire of a

I try, I yearn to.
I Feel that deep need,
Flaming within me.

This body. Wanderers mind.
I

Singing my Colours.

Colour me red
that I may live passionately
Orange
for physical and mental

Singleton fire begotten from flames,
begotten by sparks, begotten in pain...
Brought forth from

the darkened room
cools gently

drawing dreamers
to unreal planes

veiled footfalls

First fumbling embrace
So filled with hopeful promise, our passion Emerging tentatively from a

To heal our wounds
With tender kisses
And fuel our hearts
With whispered words of Love

Come to

You say you have principles and I know that, and I love that, and I believe that, and I respect

Leap the gate
Run the field
Dodge the bull
Drag no heel.

Hurdle the fence
Jump the stile
Run

Slow change into the wild arms of sunlight
Leaves me exciting
While in her company our glowing

Spent the hours carving a mural onto your body, with talons laden with your sweat
You hum as I bite

I had tried to avoid your eyes,
trying not to see the reflection of our tears.
Instead, I had

It should be.

Before secondary level my onset of interest had been introduced to be.
With the

Arms wrapped around each other in the cool green grass
A slow gallop picks up speed
A parade of

Secret worship in the eyelashes
Empty mirrors those eyes?
Or are they full of beauty and personal

I rise again
From rough American ashes of the past
Like a dark brown eagle
With eyes full of his

An after thought amongst the rubble
A second glance
A trying of chance to burn my hands
Starting

There was magic in the air
That Midsummer Night's Dream
Flying through the trees
Half man
Half

ADELA

Her feet scatter across the
tiled floor; the kiln of the sun bakes 
the tired day; shafts