Archives for the month of: September, 2011

Gentle Caress and Violent Fury of the Wind
By Bethany Davis

The wind comes to me,
Like a gentle breeze,
Brushing strands of hair,
Across my cheek.

The wind comes to me,
Like a violent hurricane,
Throwing my hair,
Across my face.

The wind comes to me,
Like a gentle breeze,
A soft touch on my skin,
Stirring my need.

The wind comes to me,
Like a violent hurricane,
A strong pounding on my body,
Raising my need.

The wind comes to me,
Whether violent or gentle,
Whether soft or hard,
It satisfies me.

Well of Nectar
By Bethany Davis

I thirst to drink from that well of nectar,
More refreshing than any drink.
Sweeter and purer, and better by far,
Than honey from any bee.
Saltier but savory, and better by far,
Than all the water in the sea.
Thicker and smoother, and better by far,
Than any milk that flows from breasts.
Far more intoxicating, taking my impulses,
Than even the strongest wine.
Like a bee or a hummingbird, I hover,
I lean in to taste.
Parting the petals, inhaling and tasting,
Sweet nectar on my tongue.
Just a small taste, then one more,
And then I am drinking deep.
Lapping and licking, drinking and swooning,
From that well of nectar.

Shadows and Sensations: a walk in the dark
By Bethany Davis

The breeze whispers gently,
On my bare arms,
On my bare legs,
On my bare skin,
Whispers,
Tickles,
Caresses,
Feels.

The grass cool almost cold,
Soft on my bare feet,
Tickling,
Soft yet spiky,
Wet yet dry,
Like moss,
Or a pillow,
Shag carpet,
Velvet,
Silk,
But softer,
Smoother,
Gentler,
Like nothing else on earth.

Darkness lit by remote lights,
Porch lights,
Neighbour lights,
Not close,
Not bright,
But showing each blade,
Each leaf,
In contrast,
Light green on dark green,
Grass dancing in the light,
Casting shadows.
Casting light,

I walk through shadows
In the night,
Summer night,
Quiet,
Peaceful,
Still.

Bare arms,
Bare legs,
Bare feet,
Four steps in bliss,
Then four steps back,
Brief,
Fleeting,
Like a dream,
Lost in shadow.
Lost in sensation,
Lost in Sweet Night.

And Tears Fall
By Bethany Davis

Emotions high but spirits low,
Pain that’s deep and sorrow strong,
What to say?  How to talk?
And tears fall.

Strength within seem way too small,
But holding on and standing talk,
How to hide it?  How to praise?
And tears fall.

My back is straight, I face the pain,
Emotions consuming but will is strong,
Can I make it?  Can I live?
And tears fall.

Life goes on and pain it fades,
Another challenge, another day,
What is memory?  What is thought?
And tears fall.

Second Skin
By Bethany Davis

The fuzzy purple blanket under me,
Like fur caressing my skin,
So soft, so sensual, like a soft massage.

Soft black fuzzy pillow under my head,
Like a cloud, soft but supporting,
Cradling my head in its arms.

Colourful Tinkerbell blanket covering me,
Soft like velvet, rubbing my bare skin,
A cocoon containing me, to change to a butterfly.

Tight thong embracing me,
Holding that precious centre,
My well of nectar, held in a sweet embrace.

Soft cami covering my breasts, my tummy, my back,
Soft on my skin, like a hug, a firm embrace,
Containing my, constraining me, freeing me.

Tight shorts hugging my hips,
My loins, my thighs, Peacock, teal, jade,
Bright and conforming to my curves.

All the textures surrounding me, holding me,
All bring contentment, like heaven,
The textures of my second skin of sleep.