Tuesday, January 16, 2018

Poem for her 406

Dear Readers,


The hunger


To touch your skin and feel your sighs
To taste that new lip balm you just got
To touch you after you get home that first second
To film you walking toward me before the line above
To see you smile as you see the card on the table
The hunger of the day you say ......
...Hi there Charles
...Hey let's go to the beach
...Good morning love
...XOXO
Those days are many since the first of each
The hunger is still there never abated
Always heated and fueled by my heart beat
The need to have you in my hands even when not
Lingers at the edge of my days
I can be in the other room and slip my thoughts
Close to your skin the sweet nothings sighing
As they touch you from the flight to you
Hot and with light touch saying
I love you as they touch your skin

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Monday, January 15, 2018

Poem for her 405

Dear Readers,


Hearing your voice


The slow ache to listen to you again
The distant travel and no phone to be had
To go a week without seeing your smile
The days long and cold only held a chill
The videos holding me in a sane bit
The need to have heard you yesterday
The voice of you driving toward me
Closer and closer the soft voice there
Phone call more than a phone call
Wanting your voice to touch my cheek
Wanting my fingers in yours lost in us
Wanting your skin warm near me soon
The first hearing of your voice
So close now, a new sunshine splash
Knowing the feelings here stated mutual
Knowing our longing is intense
Knowing the love heated soon
Melting the phone call


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Saturday, January 13, 2018

Poem for her 404

Dear Readers,


Whoa the answers are that a 404 error arrived and you can't see the website, But that is so strange you were there just 20 minutes ago, what happened. Those pesky bullfrogs ate the pizza. The slices of time that My poems to her are sliced out of Heaven and bits of earth and forest floor and the sheet music I called God's post it notes, are always being dripped on the heads of pins and penned in on a page like this one. To many thoughts going on in my head and she is cold at the time of this writing, but when she reads these lines I hope she'll be a bit warmer, Where she is right this second is relative to the place she is right now ( now being the time of my writing and the time of your reading both at the same time ) her outside the house is 14 degree F, hard freeze state. Licks lips and gets out the thought threads.


The Neck of the Woods


The cloak was full of Red and Black
The cloak fell to the floor and sighed
The cloak was warm and not dismayed
The neck was finally warm and a bit wet
The tongue was still talking but just slow
Slowly the words were formed on the surface
The skin was wet again and the neck sighed
The sound of the sigh low and mewing
The cloak was happy it landed next to pillow
On pillow was her head and mine and sighs
The cloak was draped about our forms
We were finally HOME and not as cold now
On the floor next to the fireplace
That was a pile of red hot embers from earlier
The night outside was very cold
But inside we were warm and comfy
The sounds of her saying something
The sounds of me saying something
Then the sounds of mewing again and again


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Friday, January 12, 2018

Poem for her 403

Dear Readers,



The Face

In the mirror that day at Mom's I said Love your shirt
That I kissed in that video we like to play again
You see when out on the road and look to see your glasses
That I hold at night to look at the shape of you
Always brand spanking new just like when the door passed
Whose lips I tenderly touch with lip balm on finger
Whose lips I then kiss to settle in the taste of
Whose shape I know so well and ask you to draw on notes
Whose cheeks I touch and sooth with soft kisses of time
Whose forehead I kiss good morning to and good night
That I touch with tender fingers and wish the whole you


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Wednesday, January 10, 2018

Poem for her 402

Dear Readers,


Hot Coffee


The greenhouse had a bit of steam in it
The plants had been grown there a long time
The odd things that grew there made visitors wonder
Who were this couple that grew the garden
The coffee plants over here in this section
Through a partition there is the odd tree
The sign saying it is chocolate's plant parent
Orchids over here and other vines over there
The bench where is a small guide map handy
Then the butterflies all about in soft clouds
The garden enclosed and the chill of winter out
The visitors would sometimes see a couple
Standing by a large tree and talking
Their hands always mingling together
The smell of hot coffee would be in the air


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Poem for her 401

Dear Readers,



Butterfly kisses


The soft sound of your fingers on my belly
Heard as I pause talking on the video
The butterfly kisses of your lips up close
Seen as the camera blinks it's shutter
Days go by and then weeks as I touch you
The feeling of your skin under fingers
The long touch on your arms as you sit there
I stare at you and try not to miss a breath
The time it takes for one kiss to travel
From thoughts of lips to pulling away
The years that span in the space we are
The soft sighs you make as you drift to sleep
The endless time I'd sooth your edges
Touching your skin with butterfly kisses


Happy Birthday Babe,


Charles.

Tuesday, January 09, 2018

Poem for her 400

Dear Readers,


The Walk


The day was kinda like any other
But the track was full of leaves
The trees weren't shedding these
The leaves were last year's
Or maybe even several years ago
The forest floor you could never tell
You were telling me about a call
We had once had long ago
Where we had spent 3:33:59 hours talking
The reason you remember it so
Is that I was the one keeping track
You were making food and I was the timer
The other reason was that I had said
Three tree toads with two toes were treed
In a long tongue twisted poem thought
And I could write it but hardly say it
Without laughing at one point
Well now our walk has ended and here
The thoughts have turned to you again
The next color we are going to paint
On the big mural on the wall
Of that new space that used to be blue


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.






















Monday, January 08, 2018

Poem for her 399

Dear Readers,


Riding


I love that you drive babe
It allows me to hear what you say
Better that I stand or sit to your right
That ear problem I have

The cars we have driven
Always just a get up and go
To get places not the goal
Just the driving there to have gone

The days where you get that urge
To drive and just go
Grab the picnic basket toss in things
Then off to the pacing of the driving

I like to be the map reader
The pointer out of things
Though you know places you like
I look for picnic tables to dine at

The days grow wet and we stop
The rain turns to sleet
The car stays put
We go and cuddle up and kiss the day away



Happy Birthday Babe,


Charles.