(For National Poetry Month I am writing a stream-of-conscious poem per day. Each poem is  a spontaneous poem single edit – could get messy!  Here is Poem #21.)

crumbled parchment on the floor
words rejected now once more;

the roses you sent long dead
soft red petals hard faded;

digital images flip
flop fetid old memories;

maker’s mark burning my soul
crisply cleanly disinfecting;

reliable addiction
you know i’ll crawl back again;

spread-eagled you await me
promising ‘this will be good!’;

there’s always that condition
– the only demand you make;

this time i need to listen
and do what ever you say;

ah sweet rush inside my head
driving all reason away;

why would i ever say no?

(For National Poetry Month I am writing a stream-of-conscious poem per day. Each poem is  a spontaneous poem single edit – could get messy!  Here is Poem #20.)

obsidian
ebony gleam
glinting

it wasn’t
yours to take
but you did

hidden away
you pull it out
stroke it

when no-one
is there to see
your hunger

it wasn’t
yours to keep
but you do

one day
it will escape
break your heart

and then
you’ll both
be free.

(For National Poetry Month I am writing a stream-of-conscious poem per day. Each poem is  a spontaneous poem single edit – could get messy!  Here is Poem #19.)

i like the feel of
open palm on cheek
quick blush of red
sweet rushing burn
smart snapping sound
adrenaline surging
hormones engaging
lustful raging
trickling desire
throughout my veins

now count out loud:
One…

(For National Poetry Month I am writing a stream-of-conscious poem per day. Each poem is  a spontaneous poem single edit – could get messy!  Here is Poem #18.)

you said i was ready
your touch deft and precise
making me need your want

old enough to say no
too young to say yes
i submitted to you

doing what you said
how you wanted it
when you demanded it

i never should have
obeyed – not so soon
it was much too much
too touch me so…

every moment after
filled with sorrow;
it felt thrilling and

left me aching
in anxious shame;
they all know
they must know:

i am impure.

(For National Poetry Month I am writing a stream-of-conscious poem per day. Each poem is  a spontaneous poem single edit – could get messy!  Here is Poem #17.)

pink blossoms blooming,
sweeter than your perfection;
petals swirling in the breeze,
dancing softly like your hair.

enticing scent luring bees
in lurid lust of pollination.
swelling fruit on every branch
growing firm beneath this summer sun.

perfumed breezes whispered enticement
and our ripe fulfillment was consumed;
astringent fruit bitter aftertaste
leaving sorrowful wisdom on our tongues.

too late we learned the lessons
of alluring goodness and the high
price of secret pernicious truth.
we are outcast and exiled;

burning swords now bar the way.
still please know this my dear,
i’d rather burn in naked hell with you,
then live in naked blissful innocence.

see how the seeds we planted grow.