Handing it Over

When I write a poem, I write it for me. If someone has inspired a poem, they will probably never see it or hear it. This is one of the first poems I scrawled on a fresh piece of paper and handed to the person who inspired it. I was growing up. I was ready to share myself emotionally.

There's never a moment

without you on my mind

Your eyes lips hands heart

are all too kind

How I long to have you

Safely swept into my arms

To kiss hug hold love

Oh how your body warms

When we talk

your attention on me

That laugh smile

How can it be

Only your presence

has the ability

to drop my guard

setting me free

I Bite Into the Apple

Once upon a time I was dating someone who was more religious than I was. He was hesitant to begin a sexual relationship. I felt like the biblical Eve in the Garden of Eden - coaxing, tempting, seducing - yearning for him to take a bite out of the apple.

It wasn't just the "apple" that I was thinking about when I wrote this poem. It was the act of reaching up and out, bringing it closer to me, and experiencing it with all my senses. The freedom to grasp life and enjoy it!

I bite into the apple
Pierce its shiny skin

I moan in delicious ecstasy

as its juice slips down my chin

I close my eyes and savor

the pieces on my tongue

My eyes slowly open

once the chewing is done

I gaze into the flesh

where I have left my mark

I lick the sappy sweetness left

from being torn apart

I open my lips

and close my eyes again

Anticipating the pleasure

the next bite will begin.