She danced by the light of the candles.
She danced by the light of the candles.
(An R-rated poem.)
Watching the sun fall into the sea.
I’m a street poet of the night.
I wear Army greens in the day.
Pacific Groves is the most beautiful city in my journeys.
Built on a mountain overseeing the whole coastline of Monterey.
and watch the whales go by if you are lucky.
We gather 2 to 3 time a week to listen and read poetry.
It give us mojo to keep trying and reaching for dreams.
There have open mic that allow them to play their music
and try to attain their dreams.
I’m at the ocean writing and watching the sea.
If I’m not there I’m at the Irish Pub.
Drinking with the surfers.
They tried to teach me to surf.
I had no balance and they felt sorry for me and gave me a suicide board.
They were kind enough to accept me as a friend.
Her name was Beatrice.
My good friend for many years in the Army set me up with her.
He asked me to entertain her.
He knew I was lonely and wanted for me to go back to my old self.
A beautiful 25 years old woman.
She had traveled the world and was on a month of rest with her sister.
I wasn’t ready for any woman now.
I was alone for too long.
I didn’t need anything but my poetry and friends.
Distance allow the heart to mourn and forget.
She came to California to tell me goodbye a few months back.
Most were young girls and old woman.
I started three Poetry reading in the city of Monterey and Pacific Groves.
I was call the Word man.
I wore a blue jacket and knew most of the artist in the city.
My real name wasn’t important.
A nice group of people showed up.
Beatrice came in when I read my three poems.
I saw a odd look in Beatrice eyes.
After the coffee shop clear out.
I’m sitting with other Poets.
Beatrice starts to hold my hand.
It is 3 am in the morning.
She asked me to hold her.
She was cold.
I wrapped my arms around her and we watched the sea.
But I’m dead and my heart and will never return.
She smiles and starts to dance.
Her long brown hair is flowing in the wind.
She was like a child.
She toss off her shoes and run into the water.
She was so beautiful.
Thank the lord of life and death for this moment.
She run to me.
Ask me what do you see Poet?
She tells me I don’t want much.
I can show you the way out of your prison.
I can show you passion and pleasure.
She whisper what do you wish for?
I close my eyes and she give me a warm sweet kiss.
It is Saturday.
All the Poets and Musicians show up at the River Inn to read poetry
and sing their music.
She is wearing a short skirt and t-sheet.
Her perfect body I could not take my eyes off her.
Her tan skin and long legs were so beautiful to see.
A nudist beach.
I been there often.
The most beautiful rocks and dangerous water you will ever see.
She asked me to read to her.
I read some of my poetry.
. She raise her face to my face.
Kissed me and thank me for taking her everywhere.
I got us a room.
We would be able to stay till the end.
Drink what we wanted and be safe.
We listen to poets and musicians.
She fell in love with Alisha Fineman like I did years ago.
She light many candles and began to dance for me.
Showing me her perfect body with each perfect movement to the music of Kanas.
“Dust in the wind.”
She left the bathroom door open.
I watch her undress.
Her young body shine in the light of the candles.
She smiles at me and goes into the shower.
I wished for a woman like her for a long time
. No fear of yesterday or tomorrow.
Willing to give emotion and love.
Are you going to join me?
She rub her perfect body against me.
I tell her I have been along time too long.
My flesh is too hungry now.
Taste the sweet tenderness of my flesh.
Be not afraid I will not break your heart.
Whispers we are but dreamers.
We will not always win.
She lay her body on top of mine.
Her warm body against me.
She move her full breast up and down my body.
Her hands massaging my legs and groin area.
I watch her beautiful face.
She was a Angel and gift for my soul.
I bring her to me.
I caress her soft and perfect body with my hands then mouth.
We make a wild and sweet love.
We knew the road to paradise.
I held her tightly till the morning light began to appear.
I watched her dance on the beach.
Her beautiful body lays tightly against me.
She ask would I remember her?
I kissed her.
Drank some tequila and she drank some.
I told her. “Only every time I watch the sun rise up from the west.
We talks all day and into the night.
We travel the coastline and we swam in the big storms.
She told me we will be okay.
Just can’t allow the shit to pollute our minds.
Whisper my Poet don’t cry no more.
Life is to be lived.
Go back to the sea and dream of my muse
and lover Beatrice in sweet dreams.
Oct 1992
|
|


Pingback: The stormy sea |Catching up with johncoyote | Hey Sweetheart, Get Me Rewrite!
i can almost imagine how she looked like… ❤
LikeLike
She was a beauty. She didn’t break my heart. She showed me I still had one. Thank you for reading and the comment.
LikeLike
it takes one person to prove a stereotype wrong and similarly, all it took was one woman to show you that you can love again, even though you thought you will never be able to…
LikeLike
This poem is really beautiful. I wish for a woman like her, too, it is 5 years that I’m alone, without touching no woman, but women here, in the country where I live are difficult, they are, like, soul-rotten, like if life and fun were drained from them. Anyway, thank you for the poem.
LikeLike
Sometime you must travel. The place we live become less interesting. I had to join a war to find woman who loved life and loved to dance and sing. There are many. Thank you for reading and the comment.
LikeLike
Jealous, sighing. Beautiful. Thank you.
LikeLike
Good memories get better with time. Thank you reading and the comment.
LikeLike
Heaven must be difficult to explain, but your words could be able to describe it. Congrats, and thanks for following. Sketchuniverse blogger.
LikeLike
Thank you for reading and the comment. I do appreciate.
LikeLike