Month: Jun 2017

Plunge 

Sharing time with you

Makes me happy

      A respite from reality

A secret space

Touch and embrace

      Feelings of insubstantiality

Wrap around me

Like tendrils of morning mist

         Clinging, hard to resist
Sharing time with you

Is the pinnacle of my week

            Emotional peak

From that first meet kiss

The feelings of bliss

              Engulf me

You feed my mind

I reply in kind

             Cerebral compatibility
Sharing time with you

Makes my hormones zing

             Frission of electricity

The magnetic force

That holds us close

            Pure sexuality

Hold and examine 

The rare artifact

           Plunge into the abyss
                  Attracted

                      Energised

                            Completed.

                   

              

Tidal Wave

Touch

               Zing

tidal wave

Ride 

                         Atop 

breathless, crave

Swept away

                        Into 

the  Sky 

Feet Never

                     Touch

the ground

Touch

              Zing

Tidal Wave
Meld

           Contract

still amazed.

                  

The dit dah of life

The dit dah, dit dah 

of his life,

Morse​ code,

 Flashing lamp,

 Programming 

breaking 

                 lines

The patterns of disordered

 Strife.

Hand held out,

Grasping,

Momentary gratification,

Plucked fruit

spoilt

            by handling

He acts without doubt.
The boom, boom of life,

Ego bursting, high octane

            chase,

He teeters,

   Understanding

        self

            gratification,

Halflife.
Does he see her worth,

Or as a notch

                in the belt ,

Should he climb 

the ladder,

To reach a

                higher shelf,

Reimburse.
Is it her, this bright spark,

Is she the one

                 to tame,

Or will  she be the one

                    to cast her spell?

Hunter

    hunted

Left in the dark.

The dit dah, dit dah 

of  his  life,

Morse​ code,

 Flashing lamp,

 programming 

breaking 

                 lines,

The patterns of disordered

Strife.
Will illumination strike,

Or will he,

Stumble

      sexily 

          sated

Oblivious to love

In the shallow pool

Of apeptite.

Flash Fiction. African Safari

I wake up to the bright light of morning, listening to the sounds of the insects as the alarm on my phone resonates with the barking guffaw of the zebra (I changed it to enhance the mood). Light is flooding through the walls of the tent. As I stretch and wiggle, luxuriating in the comfort of the bed, I am struck by the contrast of this tent cum up market villa, full of modern conveniences with the rugged unspoilt bush just feet away. Africa, I am in Africa. In a haven in the wilderness.  I sniff the air, it smells warm, dusty with a faint undefinable odour maybe of the red earth itself. The scritch of crickets fills the air, their sound overlaid by the rich song of the birds in the nearby trees. I can hear the muted chink of pans and crockery; the chef must be in the kitchen preparing breakfast.

 The amount of insect and bird life filling the air is amazing. Such a cacophony, it is almost overwhelming as I try to distinguish individual voices. This noise is incredible even without the voices of the large animals, who have gone quiet. Last night there was such a variety of noises permeating the tent, cracks and swishing from a browsing herd of elephants, alarm calls from buck and zebra and the cackle of the hyena sending a chill down my spine. Loved every second. I presume the animals both predator and prey are trying to stay invisible in the brightness if the day.
There is too much to do to stay in bed, so I make a move. The wind gusts and the door of the tent blows open, I walk over to close it, standing for a moment; a flicker of movement catches my eye. I register an impala racing past followed by a cheetah. The kill happens around 7 metres from the door of the tent. Quick and clean. Life begetting life. Awesome moment.  The cheetah turns its head towards me, (it feels an acknowledgement of my presence) then drags the impala into the bush. Wow!! What a start to the day. 

My blood is singing through my veins, my heart thumping that sight has been a pure adrenaline rush. I am privileged to see the power of nature in action.

Indoor or outdoor shower? No contest I must go with the full experience, so it must be the outside bush shower. I walk out onto the deck past the plunge pool, draping a towel around my nakedness. This clever arrangement is like the old, less salubrious camping days and much more to my taste. A canvas screen set up, with a wooden tripod sporting a large plastic bladder filled with water. The floor has a wooden grating to keep the feet clean. I leave my stubble in place and just soap my body then pull the string so that water from the bladder cascades over me, rinsing off the soap and energising my mind. Humming under my breath I shake myself like a dog and stand eyes closed basking for a moment in the heat of the sun. I reach for the towel and walk back to the tent drying myself in total harmony with this world. 

Today I have a scheduled game drive to acclimatise myself to the heat and rhythms of African  life, so different from my typical day. I am at peace relaxed and ready for any surprises that the day will bring. Tomorrow will be more testing, a trek into the wilderness with wild camping and two guides I am bursting with excitement today is the appetiser before the main meal begins. 

Flying High

We are the makers of our fantasies

Flying high, bandits at Ten o Clock

Bullets ripping into the fuselage 

tearing, burning causing 

Sensations to build , magnify

Words and pictures travelling through the ether

 

Leading us towards  wildness – this

aerial ballet ,as we jockey for position

Who will lead, who will follow, who 

will land the killing blow?

Lines drawn opposing teams

Victor – versus –  Vanquished

 

Pain

Suffused

Ecstasy

Fanning the flames of heaven or

hell

Gnawing

Grinding 

Glorification

Where is the truce?

 

 

Bleeding from myriad wounds

I fly ,still demonstrating strength

and sensuality 

My fuselage shot to pieces

I leap into the void

Have you the strength to hold me

 

Dangling

On the 

Precipice

Will we tumble together

in unison

Shafted

Saturated

Sated

Hold the Connection –

 

 

We are the makers of our fantasies

Flying high, bandits at Ten o Clock

Bullets ripping into the fuselage 

Tearing, burning causing sensations

to build , magnify

Words and pictures travelling through the ether
 

Love

Lust

Love