“hidden potential” by L. K. Thayer

 

 

 

the push and the pull

light leading us into shadows

love playing tricks on the wall

dancing between beams of lust

and promises of future

rendezvous

we lift our hearts

exchange glances in the dark

express nectar of sweet juices

in our divine musty caverns

exploring each other’s privacies

and hidden potential

we dream of feral encounters

of erotic proportions

tending our fantasies

and trust

that we may

come together as one

someday

L. K. Thayer

Thayer’s Foto Fetish

© 2011

 

Tina Fey, May I Please Wear My Special Blue Dress One More Time? by M.C. Lubow

 

Tina Fey wore my dress, the royal blue one.
Tina Fey wore my dress, the soft silk feminine one.
Tina Fey wore my  dress, my dreamy favorite party dress.
Tina Fey wore my lovely, small waisted dress.
Tina Fey wore my Grecian goddess dress…all over L.A..

No one had to tell me they saw her in my special dress.
If you lived here, or visited here, last year,
you would have seen Tina in my dress to die for.
Wherever I went, there she was…in my special dress of blue.
She was appearing in my romantic dress all over town.

That’s what may happen, if you part with your favorite dress.
It may show up without you, in places you never dreamed of.
Oh, oh, oh, that royal blue, soft silk feminine dress, with its Grecian drape
and my once tiny waist… I floated like a Chagall gal, in small town, USA.

How did my favorite dress make it into the big time?  It’s a mystery to me.
Oh my, oh dear, oh suck it up, I should never have parted with it, it’s clear.
Tina did not do it the justice it deserved, even if she wore it on the big billboards,
and the big screen. I admit my dress did look good on her,
but not as good as it looked on me.

It was not supposed to be a Hollywood actress dress.
If I ever see Tina, I will ask if she’ll regift it to me. I will take better care of it,
not let it get in a fight. It needs to be protected, just like I do.
Tina may say I’m an Indian giver, and maybe I am.
I just need to dance in it once more in the movie of my life.

M. C. Lubow

© 2011

“The Unfinished Line” by L. K. Thayer

Melancholy sand in the sleep eye of dawn,
restless wanderings in my mind as I envision thee
lying across my pillow, a tussle of hair against
your arms crossed.

Star crossed lovers catching not but one glimpse
except what lies upon the page. My thoughts churn
up magical rendezvous of bread and wine, of me
in white frills being taken at full force under the elms.

When will the missing puzzle be complete
When will my heart skip
When will we meet at last under a starry moon
embrace the flames of love that only time

can extinguish.

I ache for your lips upon my neck, sending shivers down
my legs, I take your salty flesh, tasting waves of your pleasure.
One call, one syllable, one murmur of your existence

knowing you are flesh and blood,
meeting my flesh and blood,

surging pulses race
across

the unfinished line.

L. K. Thayer

Photo by VC Ferry

© 2010

“The Unfinished Line” by L. K. Thayer

Melancholy sand in the sleep eye of dawn,
restless wanderings in my mind as I envision thee
lying across my pillow, a tussle of grey hair against
your arms crossed.

Star crossed lovers catching not but one glimpse
except what lies upon the page. My thoughts churn
up magical rendezvous of bread and wine, of me
in white frills being taken at full force under the elms.

When will the missing puzzle be complete
When will my heart skip
When will we meet at last under a starry moon
embrace the flames of love that only time

can extinguish.

I ache for your lips upon my neck, sending shivers down
my legs, I take your salty flesh, tasting waves of your pleasure.
One call, one syllable, one murmur of your existence

knowing you are flesh and blood,
meeting my flesh and blood,

surging pulses race
across

the unfinished line.

L. K. Thayer

All Rights Reserved

© 2010

“Paramour” by Jaymie Thorne

Clara Bow

she cloaked herself in scarlet
darker than a blush on cheek
left his scent on empty heart
drifting to a shadowed street
not looking for salvation, but
respite from the lonely storm
they bellowed loud as thunder
claimed they’d no other harm
his promise was always empty
to others’ lives he did belong
wept herself to sleep at night
dreamt lovers wielding stones

Jaymie Thorne

All Rights Reserved

© 2010