Sweet Scent

via Daily Prompt: Perfume

The smell of your skin

Lingering upon mine

That sweet scent of love

I sniff and reminisce

Your essence like perfume

Bringing memories to illuminate within

Radiating to all my senses

Luring me to breathe you in

Longing for more time with you

I find myself craving your presence

You’re my love drug…

I can’t get enough

I’m addicted.

 

Life Of A Poet

When life feels confusing
And I don’t know where I am
I linger about a new musing
Of lyrics, gold, and glam

Feelings made to words
Words subdue the confusion
Whether rhymes of singing birds
Or phrases of my own delusion

Like the lyrics of a song
Or the moves of a brand new dance
They never do me wrong
Nothing is left to chance

Even as I write to you now
Life is as crazy as it gets
Some things to make a raise in brow
Some things I’d like to forget

Sometimes life is full of strife
It even brings you low and down
Life your chin up to your life
Let the letters become your crown

A Note From E.M.

Every single day is a struggle, but that is why we are all here.  We have the ability to lift each other up and allow the words to flow out of us.  Thank you to all of those that have supported me by reading what I write.

xoxo

You Inspire Me, Dad

Last January I lost my father, and it has been one of the hardest things that I have ever encountered in my life.  The feeling that I will never be able to call him, hear his voice, complain about this or that…it’s overwhelming still after a year of him being gone.  I think the word I am looking for to describe it is surreal.  It still seems like he is there, and then I realize that he is gone.  Losing a parent feels like a completely different loss to me than losing a friend or other family member.

Through every loss in your life though, you get something in return…at least that is how I think about it.  I got back my ability to write again.  Dad was a poet, and he had wisdom well beyond what I had ever imagined growing up.  I admired him as my father, but I don’t think I saw him completely until I was sifting through my box of photos and his stuff that I brought back after the funeral.  His poems were also in this box.  I sat here for hours reading all of them.  I learned so much about him that I never knew, and it brought tears to my eyes.  As soon as I was done reading, I created this blog, and I have been writing for hours upon hours now…the only rest between was sleep.  He inspired me to start writing again because it is what we have always shared with one another.

Growing up I would share my short stories and poems with him, and he would critique them in a caring but efficient way.  Sometimes it made me so mad when he would give me direction on one of my stories, but as I look back, I appreciate that criticism.  It was hard to take in.  I was just a little girl…about 10 years old I would think looking back.  I had no idea then that we would share the same passion for creativity and expressiveness.

His pen name was S.A. Kingston, and he was a brilliant poet and artist of words.  He was my Dad, and I miss him dearly.  I am thankful I have his poems to look back on and reflect on who he was because it is helping me find myself again.

So, here I am, Dad.  I am writing again, and it feels really good.  Thank you for giving me the inspiration to feel through my words again and share my creativity with the world.  You are my light in the window of my soul.  I will keep the candle burning for you.

Full of Love

When I think of you
My lips turn up with a smile
My heart races like a stallion
My body could run a mile

When you look at me
My eyes sparkle back at you
My soul ignites with passion
My melting limbs turn to goo

When I look at you
My future become clear
My life has a completion
My armistice needs you near

When life has no meaning
You bring me back to light
You guide my way back home
You keep me in your sight

When tears fill my eyes
You wipe them away
You teach me to smile again
You show me the way

When I am happy…
Our love filled me up.

A Light Shower of Nature

The sky dropping drips of drizzling rain
Upon my dry face looking towards the sky

Tip tapping upon the skin of my face
As the smell of the fresh air enhances my senses

Drops bouncing off of the tip of my soaked shoes
With my arms reaching out wide to receive the showers

Zip my lips shut to feel the water upon my lips
And opening it back up to taste the freshness

My hair curls with each little, wet breeze
Affixing it to my head as the rain drops faster

In this magical moment, I feel free and alive
Being one with the natural feeling of nature

I'm part of Post A Day 2016;

When Four Eyes Collide

Their eyes meet for the first time, and the chills shiver their bones as each of their eyes meet the others.  They are complete strangers but feel they have met before.  “Have we met?“, she wonders.  “I could swear I have met her somewhere before…“, he thinks.  She looks deeper into his eyes, and he looks a gaze into hers.  They both notice that the pupil of each other’s eyes dilates with happiness as their staring at one another collide into a new spectrum of feelings inside of themselves.

The lady reaches her hand out to shake his, and the gentleman’s hand meets her halfway with his hand outstretched…glancing down only for a moment to make sure that his hand embraces her delicate grasp.  Their eyes meet back together again, even as he pulls her hand to his lips for a soft, gentle kiss on the fair skin of her hand.  She wonders if her palms are sweaty or her hand is quivering as she feels the nerves on her neck stand on end.  The gentleman claps his lips together and presses the kiss atop her delicate hand, but he holds his lips there for a moment…savoring the scent of this beautiful woman so close to his senses.  He can almost hear her pulse race as he rests there with his lips caressing the nervous jittering of her hand, and he smiles into her eyes.  She feels the warmth her cheeks are radiating as her cheeks flush with red, but she still cannot take her eyes off of the beautiful golden tones in his gaze.  Her pulse is racing.  His heart is pounding.

They are no longer strangers.