Tag Archives: passion

Lineage Aflame

as elder fire turns to coal
and we become the flame
how will they know that
we are not the strangers

heir of kindling stokes us now
bringing heat and brilliant blues
stacked together on the beach
our heritage laid upon a pyre

seaside lovers warm their hands
while longing looks a blaze ignites
send up sparks to darkened sky
season ash then consecrate by name

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Freudian Flames

i’ve got a swing in my step
it forced blood from my head  
now my ego has drifted to sleep

all thoughts have dried up
the candle has tipped, now
roof burns like dried up reeds

when the framework falls in
with only skeletons left
i think in the basement i’ll be

finding myself, in id’s selfish arms
so careless and reckless, untamed
i’ll believe i might finally be free


Chapstick and Tackle Boxes

you ask about my process
like fishing is just about a hook
i’ve seen you standing there
silent by your stream
steeped in silent thoughts

i remember standing next to you
tomboy with bobber only drifting
lips itching to fill your ear
questions, observations, the moment
your eyes always on the water

now we speak of chapstick
found in your father’s tackle box
returning us both to different times
watching fishermen consumed by passion
finding answers at the water’s edge
as i cast words to an open sea


Tribal Fires

we sit in a circle

gathered in ceremony

an unlikely band of medicine women

maternal lineage of the silver iris

breaking bread, opening hearts pages

gathered as scholars, unknowing teachers

i feel a call to dance with elders

to sift fingers through unearthed treasures

travel to corners buried in paper sleeves

spinning crystals in the healing sun

quietly watching thoughts weave together

as steam rises off teacups like smoke

from a tribal fire


Superball Love

how does one disarm clichés

they bounce around so easily

10¢ superballs take spare change

feelings run deeper than pockets

we speak of wells and oceans

anything with magnitude

attempting to articulate

souls, hearts, consuming passion

if one attempts to be honest

love is often in the smaller pieces

gratitude for a hot meal, cold lunches

laughter at big eyes with raised brows

winter boots with sticky soles

somehow purchased in the right size

accepting grumpy mornings while

looking forward to evening humor

knowing the same punch lines

where to loosen inhibition’s cord

when to leave fears undisturbed

a language that develops over time

only a hint of passionate lust

more based in mutual confession

shared acceptance, daily decision

not a scene from a romantic sunset

moments where the lighting is wrong

imperfection is evident, even loud

knowing enough to wrap arms around

hang on to the bouncing ball


Beautiful Passion

they gathered around the counter

three self-identified, self-proclaimed artists

it was good, there was a rumble of excitement

plans to collaborate spilling out, colliding with 

guitar strums, charcoal strokes, and penned details

one already knew his title, two were newly discovered

i wish i could capture the passion that filled the air

a reminder they could keep in their pockets

it crackled like lightning hitting close to a peak

sizzled like that very first time you really enjoyed sex

exhilaration like that first bicycle ride with no hands

passion, is a beautiful thing

spawning a lifetime of thrills and adventure

teaching you early on to throw fear

along with caution, to the wind

causing others to stop, take notice

and pick passion up again