Soul Hesitance I am unseated with reasoning of devils, here to play with my hesitant soul. Never have I felt the whirls of adventure lived in the passionate stories told. Your touch is my thought up in flight, graze my mouth as if your lips were mine of the firm push of flesh, a garland of delicate rose hips. You are rainbows fallen to the earth, within my hesitant grasp wet of my desire and the calling dream whirling of plans, my heart set. To know of you strikes me electric as a song of heating promise. I crack the dark stone of my life and craft a gateway fortress. Hope rains within me to storm with questions of my worth as I shake with the small steps leading me to unknown birth. I am lost in your ravishing regard, wandering unblemished stars. I reach forth beyond hope's pain to settle those, my lover's wars. I soar in skies with no met horizon as my thoughts stay with you. My fledgling wings carry me above as I turn more than myself true. © 2000 DPMcClellan

Quickens The opening of my nights quickens As you arrive to own my thoughts. I can taste your breath within me. What I will be Is what you create. Your existence sings in my desire. Silk touches swell soft beneath my skin. A tremor in my new exploration, Healing libation To my curious soul. Desperation hounds fast on my heels That I am not enough to warrant your smile. Ambition drives me to give, As, if to live, You must be with me. I could not sleep in darkness beside you, Only imagine your dreams and wait The pleasure of your morning, Your adorning Of a new day's kiss. You have led me to windows of myself, Awakening blossoms in passion spirals. My thirst is consuming, Dares for assuming I fall within your embrace. © 2000 DPMcClellan

The Knowing of You          I am lost in these new feelings.          I have no regret.          But I have fear.          I am not as bold as I thought.          And I am not the same.          I am new with the meeting of you.          I am most foreign to myself.          The days are empty, but those          nights          with you          are most amazing to me.          I wish I could keep every moment          in glass.          I am growing          with the knowing of you.          I am pleased with my response.          That I would care so much          within me.          My heart possesses me.          I am beyond the horizon          of my dreams, my dreams.          I want to follow passion in wing.          I find I am strong, now,          with my single desire.          There is a place for me          in love's design.          I am open, revealed.          My need is naked.          I stand at a cliff          and let the wind          blow in my face.          This is my Spring, a newborn time.          There is no winter here.          My thoughts have joined          with my emotions.          I lay down my head          but can not sleep.          Excitement feeds me.          I have found someone          in the vast sea of people.          It is You.          © 2000 DPMcClellan

Electric Highway She comes to me in real words, letters tumbling down, no ink stains on the electric highway. She speaks as a lover, more, a true friend that will care anyway despite the faults. She hints to me in pictures, pixels joining hands, to smile faintly in the tree shadows, her long, svelte form is calling my body, urges strike their fellows to make an ache. She talks to me in images, beautiful person, with a kindness rarely heard, seen in the day's stories, the comfort of those around her, a soft scene, spring in winter. She reaches me in laughter, problems left behind, to amuse me, entertain me light with her wry look at life, blaming no one, makes a bright clown as herself. She sings to me, excitement, shouts in whispers the bold plans, startling the erotic visions that burst forth. It is all dreams, simple and exotic feelings return. She comes to me honestly, palms falling open, our will be done on the electric highway. She seeks me and I, her. Love is not in the distance. Here today   it rests at play.                      © 2000 DPMcClellan

Imagining

New Horizons

Imagining talking to you face to face,      looking into your eyes and drowning in      them.      Holding your hand and squeezing it,      and getting a squeeze back.      Listening to your hopes, dreams and      desires.      Sharing mine.      Listening to your laugh.      Imagining listening to your children,      and talking to them, and playing with      them.      Watching them grow up,      and sharing in that.      Maybe one day,      hear them calling me Dad.      Imagining you in a gay summer dress,      whirling and prancing across green      meadows.      Then sitting down so happy and gay,      to open the picnic basket,      and set out its contents.      Imagining you in front of a fire,      wine swirling in a crystal glass,      a fine dew of moisture,      on your upper lip,      the firelight highlighting your hair.      Imagining you walking sprightly,      through the autumn air,      talking out plans and ideas.      Asking me my opinion,      and listening to my thoughts.      Imagining the gentle puff of your breath,      on the nape of my neck,      as you sleep,      the soft swell of your breasts tucked      into my shoulder blades,      your long, silken thigh      against my leg.      © 1999 DPMcClellan

She comes into his life soothing balms to his mind, a friend quickly touching his heart with writing lines penned carefully to drying ink indelible but last he wants it to, a sharing of himself, feelings cast. She writes to him of his life's stories told to her, in sharing wants to shoulder burdens and were solutions, fresh perspective not offered to salve? She absorbs him, worries of his illness, dark path. She fills him with astonishment, the sheer pleasure brought with personality changes in some measure his way of looking at life, of seeing black and white transforms to colors pastels and luminous bright. He knows her gentleness in words he tries to say, but fears inadequate attempting emotions still may bring the fool to the court, as deeper too he delves in the heart, as it lays bare and tender, hopes to win. Her femaleness lightning strikes into him, a main nerve to shake his head in desirous awe and feign control, which is not there. A gnawing hunger sets his body to rushing need, bewildered, owing debts. Her charity is voluminous in breadth and treatment of others, who share not a kindness, but slyly tax rent on her soul freely given and no charging profit sought, no bill to answer, no questions, recriminations wrought. He turns inside himself, shadow to light, black to red passion behind a calmer pouring, ecstatic, he is led on a roaming kaleidoscope, what was once hinterland. He has burst bonds of memories, time's bruising sand. She instills a newness in him, invigorating freshness blows through his bones and muscles, stimulating fastness. He squares his shoulders, looks into the mirror to see a man who may deserve her, poised to capture reality. He leads himself from a low tunnel, blocking gates fallen, decayed.  Brilliance marks a staircase, waits no longer, one step before the other, excitement well accompanies his exodus to a distant pealing bell. She is a journey through meadows speckled yellow. blue, red, a rainbow arching in clear skies mellow, as clean, cold mountain air carries her tenderness with exotic meaning to clarify his new eagerness. He knows what love is, a churning rivulet silting hard, to cut rivers swollen with twisted flotsam from the guard ship, holds brimming old hurts, sinking on its chain. He drinks of clear waters from a shore clear of pain. He feels a pressure, welling force raising him beyond his noted limit marks to a new plateau and bond with a telling knowledge that she is the one fate he chooses, a freedom new, to love, to wait. New horizons tease before him, full of promise to make a life he thought had passed him by. Who he was to gain affections, he marvels, he thrills to form a union, she to join him as they will.

Rhapsody in Blue Minor                       I drink emerald, forever, say your eyes.                       Flower dreams bloom pastels                       pleading tender sighs                       of our moment.                       I fall entranced, savoring rose mysteries,                       whispers gleam wonders' pass                       blue moonlight seas                       promise destiny.                       I can but wander in ivory glistening halls,                       echoes play my steps rush                       pleasing crimson kiss                       lies treasure.                       I hold you in glass hands, a rhapsody                       choruses reveries in verse,                       meets my own parody                       with perfection.                       Your starlights soothe rampant heart,                       lay me lace in blush satin.                       I touch the lover's part,                       hope's impression.                       Possession a luscious confection,                       I meet heavens, rainbows                       of your glance, visions.                       Carry close, by me.                       © 2000 DPMcClellan

He Wanted                       He wanted to see her, look at her, gaze into crystal green eyes,                       losing self spun in whirlpools, rush the current, find what mystery lies,                       fumbling for questions,  find the voice, lost  to  speculation,                       galaxies in emerald depths, confusion,  emulation.                          He wanted to drink her, absorb her,  a thousand voltage laced his brain,                       blood prickled inside, his face grew hot,  forehead waxy paper plane.                       Her arms, her legs, her body speaks in photos of  poetry in stillness,                       begging motion,  face winged grace, flows projecting selfless.                       He wanted to touch her, slip the smoothing surface, cheek to ear,                       neck pulses rhythm, falls sloping through a hollow, ends so near                       the swelling bossom quivering with each sweet breath taken in.                       Helpless stare traces curves and roundings, flaring  the tempest within.                       He wanted to taste her, savor her back of the tongue, pungently                         flavored richly bodied, of summer wind and winter fire smoke, urgently                       savoring the tang of perfume, the salt and soap of scentedfresh air,                       swallow her as a whole gorged deliciousness sating hunger fair.                       He wanted to know her, listen to her thoughts, believe her will,                       understand wants, needs and desires when the mind stands still.                       Peruse personality, discover depths in kindness, good caring empathy,                       pathways to anger, sorrow.  Study reason, passion, burgeon sympathy.                       Time is out of focus for him, it matters not except when she is gone,                       he roams the pastures of his heart to ease the emptiness. Then dawns                       as she arrives in spiriting miles of stretched black cable  lines.                       He raises his head and blooms to ready wit and purpose finds.                          © DPMcClellan