Poetry Archive :: The Sensual World

I am gonna have a hard time bettering this week’s offerings next week, and suspect it could be time for a change in tack on the ‘romance’ front. Whereas the Haiku is clearly doing the dirty this week, the Micropoetry decides to be a bit more reflective in its dissection of passion between the sheets. However, people are still having sex, the word orgasm gets used and so this might cause a bit of a ruckus in certain circles.

Please consume your erotic literature (in all its forms) as responsibly as possible.

The Sensual World

My grasping hand pulls forward need,
Equal pressure soft lips will feed:
Upon the fruits these bodies yield
Whilst layered warmth ‘neath cotton shield.

As coupling becomes our dance
Desire fights passion, both advance,
Beyond the simple pulsing beat
Of small release; orgasms fleet.

Our coalescing, strengthened whole
Compelling mind, intertwined soul:
Together locked, deepening tryst
Where pain and doubt will not exist.

As each new spark of passion flares
Between us both burden declares
The strengthening of final form:
That redefines accepted norm.

Our sensual world, never far
Within whatever space we are
Requiring simple care to fuel;
Eternal fountain of renewal.


Poetry Archive :: The Slightest Touch

This week, because VALENTINE’S DAY, I decided to throw a little erotica into everything. That means I should probably warn you that these five Haiku are about SEX, there are MAN PARTS involved and it’s probably one of the most fun things I’ve written for a while. There’s not enough stuff about adult relations on Twitter which is sympathetically done. We all know about the body parts in the DM’s that NOBODY ASKED FOR but this is loving, consensual and perfectly normal. Oh, and there’s a money shot.

Enjoy, and always remember to use protection.

The Slightest Touch

Sensitised, moving
Side to back; your arrival,
Waking arousal.

Coarse flesh, rough hands brush
Back to hip: pulling closer
Face blurs as lips touch.

Lost in joint passion
Blessed manipulation
Bodies twist, reset.

Looking down to you,
Hands grasp: shifting weight above
Organ pulse inside.

This slightest touch starts
Chain reaction: from life’s spark
Little death our end.

Poetry Archive :: Hate

Love is not all it is cracked up to be. With Valentine’s Day fast approaching, for some the whole sordid affair is less than attractive. What is often forgotten are those stories that won’t sell flowers or chocolates. This poem is one of those and is based on a true story. I realise how lucky I am, having been with the same person for many years, and that the sanctity of marriage is not actually a guarantee you’ll end up being treated either fairly or decently.

Every relationship has the possibility of going south really fast. In this case, it took a decade for the deception to be exposed.


Here you are, attentive:
Yet somewhat sarcastic,
No longer that fantastic.
What we possessed has gone;
Love evaporated,
Relationship outdated.

So overly cheerful
As to become grating
Then slightly nauseating.
Acting like a grown-up:
No need to be twisted
I might yet have persisted…

Were it not for the fact,
You’ve been sleeping with him
My own younger kith and kin.
Grasping one’s not enough,
Wanting to pleasure both?
Abuse of the marriage oath.

Sexuality’s fine,
Not where objection lies
Enjoying both girls and boys.
But you married me, not
My brother, so therefore
High time I showed you the door.

Hate’s a really strong word,
We both feel that from you
Now the truth has been cut to:
No longer so happy,
Bring deceit to a close.
This deception is exposed.


Poetry Archive :: Regret

Valentines Day, for me, is the anniversary of meeting my husband. As that’s more than thirty years ago, you might think I won’t grasp the minutiae of relationship pain, or understand the complexities of love and regret. Think again, fact fans. I fall in and out of love with stuff (sometimes) on an hourly basis. I am fickle and ultimately terrible when it comes to snap judgements. Of course, I’m sensible enough to never show this in the Real World and all the angst conveniently leaks out into fiction and poetry. In this case, quite a lot of regret and hate’s been about in the last week, and it seemed sensible (and convenient) to remove all that angst in literary form.

There’s enough of this to fuel more than a single month’s worth of content, that’s for damn sure.


So many things, close
To beating heart: where do I
Begin our story?

At the start, belief
Honesty placed: your passion
Swallowed soul and mind.

The middle movement,
Soaring, reflective: leading
Onwards to coda.

Then, ending arrives;
Passion departed: becomes
Simply memory.

Regret is our love:
Beautifully broken piece
Of once perfect whole.


Go with the Flow

So, I’m behind this week, but there’s a very good reason. The fates appear to have aligned on a great many areas of what could previously be described as problematic content. As a result, I’m two days into editing a NaNo novel from times past, and I have a couple of short stories that were nothing more than fumes a few days ago. Creativity, after a period where nothing existed, has returned with a vengeance. I know why this is, am not going to argue, but am conscious there also needs to be a thought to the future. That’s why we’re already looking forward to next month.

I have decided therefore that March is going to be a month of poetry.


As the weather is getting slightly kinder this will also push me out of comfort zones and the house in order to use the Outside World (TM) for inspiration. There’ll be more details on the nuts and bolts of the content once I’ve finalised everything next week, but I want to use places I find beautiful as inspiration for the majority of my workload. It will also mean quite literally blowing the dust off my camera and not relying on the mobile phone as a means of taking pictures.

I really am rather excited at the possibilities 😀


Beauty for me is quite a complicated equation. It is rarely physical (though there are exceptions) and often found in nature. I love history as an aesthetic concept: ancient Egypt, the Victorian period… which leeches into architecture and construction. There are so many possibilities for the month to look forward to, including my options for the #Narrating2018 and #Soundtracking 2018 strands of content. In fact, just writing this blog post has inspired more possibilities.

My aesthetics are a key part of what I am. I look forward to sharing them with you.

Poetry Archive :: Transition (Micropoetry)

I’ve decided, starting next week, I’m going to try and do some longer micropoems for the next three weeks or so. These are tougher asks but are the best way to accurately flex my poetic grey matter. It is also important to be able to have a bit of time to think and redraft them after initially written, which means next week you’ll get the first part of the five slightly later than normally advertised. Real life has been tough at the nd of this week but I’m still determined to keep this creative impetus going.

Come back next week and see if I succeed, but for now… enjoy last week’s efforts.



Transition :: Two

There is no way
Moment gets better;
Stop panicking
Pull it together.

Take a long look
At what needs changing:
Forget the rules,
Try re-arranging.

Remember this
Can still be salvaged;
Fight every fire,
Restricting damage.

Finally, as
The dust has settled:
What’s left to save,
From ideas levelled.

You’ve problem solved
All trouble destroyed;
Disaster ends,
Sent packing, annoyed.

Poetry Archive :: Transition (Haiku)

Because we found ourselves crossing two months last week, and it has become easier for me to write in complete sequences, I decided to use the same title for both sets of poetry. As seems to be the theme of late these words have a completely different resonance than was the case when they were written last week… and am proud of these haiku, far more so than any that have proceeded. This sequence works well not simply as five different pieces, but as a complete poem.

I think I’m getting somewhere.

Transition :: One

Grinding to a halt:
Suddenly, too much; how can
Simplicity die?

Moving across space,
Transition: should be easy
Except, this has failed.

Considered options
Concertina: shrinking to
Tiniest failure.

Sudden explosion,
No comprehension, exception
To months of planning.

Sometimes, things go wrong:
Fate, out of your hands.