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The poem and the inkwell A thousand poems clawing to be free. Alas dear reader my inkwell has run dry. I had a tail of ecstasy&..

Loving you at the edge of Passion I lay you down on a bed of rose petals. Softly the moonlight sparkles in your eyes. How gentle an..

Pull me away kicking and screaming They said it was time to go, “we have things we need to do, let’s go.” I ignored thos..

Toys of Passion Take them out, how shiny and bright they glisten softly in the moonlight. Some have functions that boggles the imagi..

Dreams of ink on paper And what of the dreams that have dried like ink on paper, never to flow into others again? Written once then..

Needs When I walked through the door you bit your lip and said, I know I shouldn’t have but I was such a bad gril. Slowly I pla..

Caught in the Act There I was minding my own buisness, siting in my room with the lights down low. I gathered all the things I would ..

Call me who I am If the title sounds like I think more of my self then I am, please understandn that I don’t. It’s not th..

Mead is a fickle lover Mead is a fickle lover when time to bottle her, and the fermintation ends. Some times she will be the perfec..

A sucker for you to taste If I sent one to you, would you savor its taste? Would you slowly lick the surprise that awaits? Would y..