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Poetry Magnum Opus



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Sometimes digs a hole

that only deepens

with desire.


I believe,

perhaps because I want to,

that she agrees.


All this in memory

of opportunity missed

and regretted.


So many years

gone wasted

in longing.


Where is she

I wonder,



Her tantalizing

face, round, plain

and honest.


Her body seen

in innocent error

but forever branded.


She taunts me still,

knowing I should have

declared my love.


Too late, too late.

Still her erotic image

emblazons my memory.


Her skin covering

breasts and thighs

and her Venus Mons.


Oh, God, I still long

for her touch

that never will be.


Still, she lingers,

her face and body

next to me at night.

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And sometimes the lingering isn't so imaginary, but the opportunity was - but that's another poem, more bitter than this.


Enjoyed the taunt - easy to relate to.

from the black desert

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Ah yes, the story of regret & intellect.... Easy to relate to, concise erotic images sent me to my rolodex of similar memories: Very human, very good.


Many Thanks!



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I like this very much. "Stuff happens" (or words to that effect:-) to the best of intentions, and wisdom gained over a life-time is often diluted with hindsight; but I suppose most of us just play the cards we are dealt at any given time and hope for the best. Happy 4th to you.. Geoff.

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Thanks, GK, Doc and Geoff for giving some modicum of credence to this memory redux. Memories of specifics often fade with time, but I think the essence of emotions remain. At any rate, I'm pleased that to some, this passes as poetry.

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I selfishly take this thread opportunity to congratulate our nation for the survival of our unique proclamation of independence of people. My hope is for that notion to remain alive, no matter the damage and scars self-inflicted. To me, the best way to celebrate is to study and dwell on the true meaning of our Declaration of Independence. Even in the cauldron of civil war, the intentions and words survive, and it is my greatest hope that it will continue to be the basis of our national intent.

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Franklin, I absorb this and have regrets, not quite the same, but comparable. I have yet to figure out if it's a haunting of my sleep, or a comfort to remember. Nearly everything you write qualifies as poetry in my pages, sir.



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erotic sensuous and powerdul .... the vivid picturisation of desire , beauty and mind's longings are sketched perfectly ... Enjoyed reading this

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