you hear nothing but your beating heart and the swish of air the ball arcs you leap… and the crowd roars!
Sweat and soot bead brow to browas the fire writhes in deadly determinationmatched only by your ownsingle-minded, stiff-necked, staying poweryour unbending brawnface to face with this fire. Whether driven by instinct or enthusiasm commitment or some innate senseof courage touched with the push and pull, the ebb and flow of terror and tenacitythe thrust is on. An opponent… a partnerenraged, ablaze,triggered to madness fueled by fire and forceurge and appetite,unquenched and unabated as your ill-advised adversary’s interactions. You douse flameswith the shower of wetdouse, drench, soak and souse.Unsatedyour drive ignited…read more
The way your tongue wraps around those words, so sexy my soul salivates. Here, at room’s rear, I hang on every turn of phrase, back-arching through every bit of banter, every burning urge… surging, spurred auditorily, in every curve of word, every scent of sass, seared with sweat… Triggering the chill and churn in bated-breathed anticipation of your next exquisite utterance… With every observation cool and common, or heated and heartful erotic thoughts in waves awash in notions both naughty and natural haunting and hypnotic. Yeah, even that offhand assertion…read more
Dare to be dangerous. Dare to dance. Dare to speak up. Dare to say whatever is in your heart. Dare to be beautiful. Dare to say don’t touch. Dare to say when it’s ok. Dare and be Dangerous! [for Ella]
(this is not about Starbucks the ubiquitous; it’s about a certain place, certain personalities, people that know my drink and have my mug at the ready, people that are happy to see me — that Starbucks in Itaewon central, that Starbucks is gone now…) Every day, laptop laden, I make my way to inspiration way, a soft-cushion destination for some deep-seated thought. Sitting at Starbucks, half aware of the chatter of the chit-chat girls And the coffee shop gangnam guys The table circles The pseudo art, the big green sign…read more
transcendental ly speaking, my tired mind is tweaking
Missing my chariot, my sleigh, my zip zap zing… my t’aint no thing, be there in a flash, my traffic bypass, my bit of sass ~ by Peter N. Liptak If you fancy this poem share with a friend, (or a foe… you never know) so that others might stumble past — ’TIS ALL THE FASHION! From feast to famine, a poets line is thin. Follow my lean lead, come walk with me in wonder, then, if you will, PUT THE CASH IN! No Paypal account is required. Poets must eat……read more