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    Daddy Surrogate

    "How long do we have to do this?"I'm cuffing his wrist to the bedpost as I sit on his naked chest. "As long as it takes, baby." I reach for his other arm, slide on another handcuff, ratchet it...

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    Anniversary

    Every year, it comes  unbeknownst  that quiet hour of passing  that date awaiting etching to  marble memory  and I  oblivious to finality  marching, marching, marching,  my matters to attend  I do not bend  to notice  nor pause consideration  to...

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    • It doesn’t look very happy, does it? LOL
      Thanks for reading, Peter!

    • I can make it happy for you….lol

    • As it may be a memorial for the passing of someone, it holds a momento mori!

      • It’s really contemplating the day of your death in advance… the anniversary to come that only others will remember. There’s a date and an hour that you live through every year which will one day be your very last moment.

    • That would be the day I follow suit… I don’t remember I have read this… you’re hiding things from me…mmmmm

    • Actually, I’m a fan of Emily Dickenson, and this is inspired by her work

    • Dear Poetess 🌿

      One would be hard-pressed to come upon a more impacting or meaningfully deep poem, rendered as thoughtfully, intelligently, and distinctly in Freestyle form, in homage to that enigmatic moment, individually awaiting us all.
      The entirety of this piece grabbed and held tightly; yet, the following lines of verse struck and admonished – just a bit deeper:

      “I do not bend
      to notice
      nor pause consideration
      to the end ” (heed we do well to prepare)

      Literally everything’s done masterfully to sheer perfection, Ma’am: Introduction photo and title, presentation, grammar, emotive power, sombre ambience, line-breaks, enjambment, vivid metaphor, and solemn imagery … everything, spot-on.

      Again, I bow in reverence, gratitude, and respect for showing us how it’s done! ⁓ Richard🌾

      -~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•§•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~-

      Soapbox: Here’s my 2¢ worth – dragged from dusty archives.

      -~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•§•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~-

      ON LIFE † ON DEATH

      From the unknown we come to the unknown we return.
      we’re but brilliant flashes in the infinitely ethereal⁓*

      -~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•§•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~-

      THE SUN….
      setting at one point rises at another;
      every moment of its motion is a setting and a rising.

      For, as the sun rises in its setting and sets in its rising
      … so is Life~so is Death …

      We die when we are born and are born when we die.

      Death~Sunrise … Sunset~Birth

      ALL THESE….
      are but the thoughts~dreams~fears of the
      … Blind and Sleeping …

      For, all Life is a death beginning and all Death is
      Life continuing, neither separate from the other.

      -~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•§•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~-

      In contemplation to the “impossibility” of coming from nowhere and going to nowhere, with no source and no destination.
      This realization can bring great comfort from the loss of those who have left us, “that” there has
      to be an eternal somewhere for Them … for Us.

      Richard W. Jenkins
      ©2007

      • As always, I just want to slobber all over you, Richard. Can you seriously make me throb any harder? My God. The last time anyone complimented my poems this emphatically, I screwed him in his classroom after my exam… no condom and no lock on the door. Yes, we were interrupted. Ask me if I gave a shit.

        So, professor… how long before your next class?

        xoxo

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    Second Coming

    Ten, nine, eight,seven, six, five, fourBehold, I knock upon the doorthat whosoever… three, two, oneWe have ig-ni-tion.Orian sighs and by his breath,all life returns from after death.A swarm of ships from Heaven’s realmamass and duly overwhelmthe somber dark before...

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