The Sex Cycle Collection is a collection of four books: The Sex Cycle, Seduced by Seduction, Fires of Fornication and After All is Said … Read over 150 poems that explore the spectrum of sex, desire and relationships.
Find poems that will excite, make you think, reminisce, hope, lament, seduce, satisfy and satiate. The Sex Cycle Collection.
The dark of night, furthest from the day Leads me into the darkest shadows. Where imaginations come out to play; Dance upon my mind’s dark gallows. See where the moon dare not glow. Open your eyes wide to the possibility. Prepare your heart for the gruesome show Brought to life by an unholy trinity. Me, myself and I Come for you, yours and yourself. Oh how time does fly When you can put your morals upon a shelf. Come enjoy the freedom of the night; Where wild fancies are given flight.
This is for a dVerse prompt: I’d like you to write a poem that centers around the night. I hope you enjoy! 😊
I blow softly upon the puff of a weed. Little seeds float in the air. Carry upon the wind, to land and germinate. Soon to grow, flower and bloom. Small seed fluff, hoping for a soft exhale of air or harsh wind to blow.
This is for a dVerse prompt: Pen us a poem of precisely 44 words (not counting the title), including some form of the word puff. I hope you enjoy! 😊
The scent of your perfume remains Faintly on the bed sheets where we used to lay The early morning sun streams through the curtain Thin shadows form across my face Aged by each morning I wake without you
I miss you, though not as much as I used to My heartbeat echoes faintly in the room we used Your ghost still resides in the corners Along with the cobwebs and spiders But the sun still shines bright at noon
I thought I’d call you to let you know She’s moving in tomorrow at noon She probably won’t see your ghost or smell your perfume Faint as they are; after you’ve gone But I thought you should know In case I still cross your mind faintly too.
Sometimes that after is just mmm, sometimes it’s meh, and sometimes it’s just ffs. No matter how it ends it’s poetry. That is if you read After All is Said. Explore the spectrum that happens after the sex is done.
After All is Said . . . 30 poems about what comes next. Read poetry that deals with how it feels after you’ve been intimate, in a relationship, out of a relationship, in love, out of love. After All is Said … What’s left to say? These poems.
The thoughts of you float through my memories This shot of whisky fuels my whimsy I want you with me
I left in the morning My stuff in my hands My heart stayed in your hands
This shot of whisky calls your name My lips do the same My heart still lays in your hands
My mind can’t erase the image of your face My hands can’t stop the feeling your skin My lips miss your kiss
I would cry but tears stain my face I won’t let you see my pain This shot of whiskey may lay false all those claims
This shot of whiskey is a toast to you This shot is to forget This shot is- Oh shit!
Read The Sex Cycle Collection!
Have you read The Sex Cycle, Seduced by Seduction, Fornication’s Fire and After All is said … ? Well now you can get them all together in one! collection. The Sex Cycle Collection.
Read over 150 poems that explore the spectrum of sex, desire and relationships. Find poems that will excite, make you think, reminisce, hope, lament, seduce, satisfy and satiate.
A selection of seven short stories ranging from a heated argument between a mom and dad that turns steamy, or a couple going outside for some risque fun, to an interplanetary smuggler getting frisky behind a hotel desk. Fun, well written stories with high spice.
It’s my caffeine kick. My jolt of coffee for a writer’s day.
- So you’re addicted?
Not an addiction as such, More of a medicine. Not my muse but my hit single.
- Hahah You think you have hits? Have you seen -
Listen. I don’t need the lip.
- You’d talk this way to your “hit”?
I’d hit you myself if you had -
- Ouch. Going with the ‘you’ve got no body. You’re not real.’
You’re the one that started this.
- Did I? - Your first love eh? Awww.
Well no actually. We met later in life. I’ve been writing stories
- Always the bridesmaid, never the bride
You’re rarely even in the wedding.
- You slut!
I mean you’re there But I’m not You’re screaming But not my pain You woo But not my moves You’re the agony of someone else’s defeat
- You enjoy this don’t you?
Meh.
- Meh? - Mehhhhbe. Maybe. Yes. - You are here too often for it to be less.
I must confess I am enamored. I enjoy Our little tête-à-tête.
- Awww. I love you too.
No, you don’t.
- You’re right. - But we need each other.
And don’t you forget it.
This is for a dVerse prompt- The Prompt: Write an Ars Poetica that reveals your writing process through imagery, symbolism, or personalization.
I took the personalization a little literal in that it is a conversation with poetry as a person. Interspersed is imagery and symbolism in the conversation.
I must confess, I do not have a love of poetry, neither as a writer or reader. If I was forced to read or write one form of writing it would be fictional prose but as I wrote above “we need each other” poetry and I. Knowing someone is reading something I wrote literally keeps me writing. At least at a pace faster than something that would make even George R. R. Martin wince. LOL.
So to all of you who are reading or have read. Thank you! From poetry and me. 😊❤
Black and white. Just shades of grey. Still growing. Just to be broken.
Young.
Not mature. Not in the way that they grow. Still much life to give had they given it a chance.
Child. Not child like. Mature too soon. She never had a chance.
Thorns.
There to protect. Prick your finger, maybe your thumb. Don’t pluck the roses.
No one was there to protect her when the predator came. Now she protects herself, even if sometimes she’s the one with cuts.
The Only One.
The only branch broken among the bush. Was it an accident by a passer by, the gardener’s glove, or nature’s way?
Alone in the dark. Nobody to push you or push back against. Safety in solitary. Naturally.
Focused In The Light.
Fill the frame. Background blur. Sunlight is nourishment. Colors to be seen.
The sliver of light brings into focus the eye. Contrast to all that surrounds. Black & White.
Broken Young Thorns among the only one Focused in the light
This is for a dVerse prompt: From the images below, choose two that YOU feel could create a contrast. Then use them as a foundation to build your poem.
I chose the two images at the top. I’m assuming for the poem the gender of the child is she. I hope you enjoy! 😊
The year’s shortest night Looking towards the heat or cold The moon says goodbye
I yearn to tell you of the heat that burns. The glare of the sun’s rays blinding me as I look out my door. Yet you are in the south, way south. The land of Vegemite and killer everything. The same sun shines down on you but for you the long days are getting shorter. Yet my longing grows.
Welcome summer sun Come sit and sip tea with me Remembering spring
Springtime. The winter ended. We talked and walked hand in hand. You mentioned plans. I held mine secret. Spring rains bring summer blooms. But only if the bulbs remain. I thought I could keep you planted here.
Solstice seasons change Birds still sing in the morning Longest days still end
I held out the ring to you. Bended knee became on my knees bent and broken. You had already made plans. Your future was charted beneath the equators band.
“You wouldn’t stay for me?”
“You would ask?”
“Selfish”/“Selfish”
I still have the ring, the box, wilted roses, dried by the sun, sit in a vase on the table. I don’t have her. She left. She said she was and she did. I wasn’t going with her, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to and I couldn’t have even if I wanted to. She knew that. She had to have known that when she took the offer. Yet, she took the offer. But she didn’t take my offer, my ring, my promise. So it sits on a table with wilted roses in a box waiting for the longest day to end. And I wait for the morning’s sun to rise.
This was for a dVerse prompt: Write a haibun that alludes to the first Solstice of 2026. I hope you enjoy! 😊
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Sometimes that after is just mmm, sometimes it’s meh, and sometimes it’s just ffs. No matter how it ends it’s poetry. That is if you read After All is Said. Explore the spectrum that happens after the sex is done.
After All is Said . . . 30 poems about what comes next. Read poetry that deals with how it feels after you’ve been intimate, in a relationship, out of a relationship, in love, out of love. After All is Said … What’s left to say? These poems.
