Saving graces

We can't save our loves from
Their fate, their anxiety. Their 
Path is a parallel journey we
Share. We can not even save
Ourselves. Who can steer away
Clear of the shallows and the
Rocks, of life's pitfalls and the
Dangers that come to us all
From living,  through life's path. 
We see when love isn't enough.
It doesn't stop our heartbreaks.
We are saved by loving but we
Can not save the other or get 
Either of us safely home. It all
Happens too fast and moves
At a snail's pace, we seek and
Then we avoid, tripping over 
Our desires, protecting and
Worrying. Worrying, unable
To protect ourselves or our
Beloved in life's uncertainties.

Spring pleasures

Our personal juices
Teasing through our 
Veins. We are giddy.
Floral scents and that
Chaos of color makes
Us flighty as a puppy
Chasing butterflies. 
It's spring; we crave
Love but more than 
That. We're unreliable.
It's spring. Our blood
Is pumped for and
Primed. Renewal is
A reward, a privilege

The love life of flowers

The genitalia of flowers is frequently 
On display, even in polite society as
Startling and unexpected as innocent 
A pictorial to guide us on their growth

What good

Loving you will save us, although
I know I am powerless, and my 
Love can't save you from what
Ails you and rips you from me, I 
Know that actively loving, giving
My whole heart in my care for you
Is my salvation. Our lives are on
Parallel paths, but our love is a
Collision course, both perilous 
And divine. Love doesn't stop a
Heartbreak, but giving love can
Mend or bend and reunite us  
With our better, nay best selves

Revenge

The sun piqued at the moon 
Takes its revenge on the evening 
Sky. Vengeful, it turns the clouds
A vivid red. What would be blue
Is hanging in the halo of its anger

Feeling

Sex made me feel hopeful 
And not just about us but
About the future. About all
Things sinuous, sensual, or
Sensate. About my senses
Hopeful about the sensitive
In everyone. The world was
Open and full of feelings. It
Was good. Good to be. Alive.

Lunatic

That crazy moon
Winking down 
At you at me
Looking to make
Fools out of whole
Cloth of you of me
It's easy to do 
When you have 
That kind of sway
The power of moon
Dust and magic
I see you shaking
Your head me too
But we know it's true
That crazy moon
Can make us crazy too

By way of apology for my [current] impatience, I dedicate this poem to Burt. (In truth, many of the poems here are dedicated to the guy I love.)
this is our life blog

Apples II

Like the snake in the garden
I want to shed my skin
Make temptation 
My whim

Eden II

What do I know
That you want to know
Take a bite

Apples & Eden

Like the serpent in Eden 
I want to shed my skin
Like that snake, I can own
Temptation as a whim or
As an occupation, a skill

Sunday. Anticipating an eclipse

Magic in the skies. This is 
How it feels to be primitive 
Man overawed by an event
We can't explain even when
Science parses phenomena
There is mystery in the sun
It feels brighter, brilliant and 
Wonderous, it sits awaiting 
Its meeting with the moon
It sparkles a rainbow into
My glass, the light dancing
Dancing lightly yet it feels
So very still, quiet. Waiting