Inspired By Ioan
Actually, Gypsiebell's beautiful Haiku encouraged me to share. Before I found Ioan, so to speak, I suffered through years of writers block. Learning about him from that "other" site actually inspired the cheesy romantic that I had thought had gone away. This is one of the poems I wrote at that time (3 or 4 years ago). It is a little racy, definitely PG13. (ok I cleaned it up a little, if anyone wants the original, just ask) Dance with me. Start with a shy glance across a crowd, a full moon, waves crashing on the beach, foam whispering in the distance, soft slow music and Chinese lanterns. Let it begin with light; soft and supple, gathering in your eyes. They spark; spark with a glow of wonder, with a pique of curiosity, with a hint of brief hunger and with a trace of wanting that does not care if it is satisfied but insists upon being recognized. Dance with me. Let the glance become a wary stare, a piece of a greeting that beckons an ember into hesitant and guttering glow. We grin in small ways as I let harmless fantasy flutter around my heart like the dusk after a cloudy day. I would feel you moving through the crowd but never dare to look, to actually hope. --A fleeting glance, a small smile across a milling throng, is a safe dream. Dance with me. Take my hand; my slick and surprised hand that shakes as your thumb rolls gently around each finger--as though they were fine crystal. Let our touch share electricity, a fire; an infant desire. Please, oh, please touch my palm with yours. Do not waste words; do not drown the sweet indefinable roar of the heated blood pounding against my throat with introduction, small talk, or meaningless platitudes. Please, oh please touch my wrist, my arm --feel inevitability, feel destiny; smooth and yielding beneath your fingers. Dance with me. Lead me without useless pleas or empty compliments; just press my hand into yours and walk. Let your arms enfold me; hold me against the rising flame --the tiny, experimental flicker burning beneath my cheek as it rests against your chest. The music, the people, the moonlight --forgotten. Let your hands play across my back; let my fingers walk across your shoulders. Your hair feels like satin. Dance with me. I would submit to you in total trust; no resistance, no care, no worry, no struggle as we sway, as we twirl, as we glide, as we waltz. Dance with me. Please, oh please do not press too hard; do not let our single dance be something vulgar or rough; --animal instinct, gripping and pawing. Hold me in your arms as though I am precious, make me beautiful. Let your strength become mine and allow my desire to become yours. Our heartbeat shall set the stage for a single, soft kiss. And our hearts will reach heights unnoticed by the moon, uninterrupted by the people, unending in our dreams. Together we will be strong, beautiful, and passionate --with an ecstasy that culminates in a crescendo made of moonlight, music, Chinese lanterns and crashing waves.

KJ, wow! This is quite a very beautiful poem. I felt like I was watching two people who'd just met share a private moment together. I really enjoyed reading it. :hug More please? Gypsiebelle

That is absolutely beautiful, KJ! You actually make me want to go off and start a short fanfic based on it.

:blush2: Gypsiebell, yours are much prettier and require more skill but I am so happy you liked it. Freak--GO FOR IT!! Just don't forget to get me the link when its finished. I haven't shared my writing with anyone for a very long time so thank you VERY much. You have no idea how much your praise means to me. I've got some poems in my blogs on myspace, just hit my web page link.

going gang busters
I know the majority of you have a very good idea how frustrating writer's block can be, idea after idea slamming into you and your fingers, your mind refusing to do anything. Onslought after onslought of "if" with no release. OK, so you may not know MY particular writer's block. In many instances it is made up of people, pressure, laundry, cooking, and only 24 hrs in a day. I have no delusions about being the best writer, but I am a good writer and a waste of talent is like being stranded in the desert pooring your last rations of water over the sand to make a castle. (i'm tired best metaphore I've got, I encourage others) So again, I thank you all for enjoying my poem. As cryptic as my thanks may be I am truly grateful and thought I would write a nice little poem to hopefully make you smile. Don't loose heart I have more heart-pounders in this mind of mine but I wanted to share the rare bit of happy. When I was nothing but a child, When I was nothing but a child, I could climb the tallest mountains and swim the deepest oceans. I scaled the tallest trees, and fought the most hideous monsters. I conquered, I flew, I soared. I met with Nemo and had lunch with the Tin Man before the rain came. I was the best soldier in her majesty's service and wowed them with my flawless perfermance at the Met: where ever that was. When I was nothing but a child I was goddess and devil; I was witch and warlock. I had wings of the softest, pearliest white one day and found the only truly flawless perfect diamond on the next. I fought dragons; knights vied for my hand. I found the bad guys every time. I was Leia; I was Luke, and sometimes even Vader. When I was nothing but a child, I was everything.

I like that one very much KJ. It portrays the freedom of imagination we have as children and hopefully can retain as adults. Love it. GG