affirmation

I watch with ever wonder
as they wisp-like dart
around the room dancingly
prancing effortless steps
with such limitless youth
and envied abandon.

He is a tornado or
so it had been said,
yet in my eyes he is a
prince most potent,
commanding my heart
with each word he speaks.

And she, much more
than regal a princess
lithely evoking my calm
wonder with witty words
as the knowing world bends
around her determination.

My beautiful children
compose time itself
with each giggling leap
as they cavorting the room
expand, and define the day
to suit their brightening play.

Yet always and ever
they return to she who
bore them, who wore
their needs wantingly
inspired to nurture more
than a family hers.

I listen to their play
and I look at exquisite her
as my heart fills with
such longing, for in her
is life most carefully
most joyfully affirmed.

İstanbul 1 December 2021

touch

This Istanbul cold invades me,
pervading every bit of me.
I simpering shiver beneath
its so unkindly clasping, me
grasping that there is more
to this, that somewhere between
the pleasure and the pain,
between breathing and being
were moments of simple enduring
honesty—a space, a place, a time
so very extraordinary if only
because in its utter banality
it conveys such divinity—
the perfectly quiet, subtle
and unadorned moment
when the greatest significance
of life is expressed by nothing
more than a touch.

İstanbul 22 November 2021

[Thank you, Allison.]

only you

There is not in this world a place
nor a time defined by the needs of others
that can guide these limbs, these notions
forward quite so remarkably
as does the merest thought of you.

In my deepest heart I cradle yet
every memory of you, so bold
and beautiful beyond any words
that even I could evoke to assist me,
for you are nothing short of exquisite.

I have treasured your playful voice
teasing and taunting me to debate,
your voracious mind consuming
knowledge in a manner undaunted,
daring arrogant truth itself to concede.

Your laughter illuminated the dark
daring me to be more than me, as you
filled the room with such vibrancy
that I had never witnessed before
no matter how far I have traveled.

But at this moment, this bare time
of mine, as the craven cold creeps
into my bones and the sun descends
wearily once more—at this time
what I miss most about my love, you

is the boundless power of your touch
to hold back the darkening tide
and bid mighty Ra himself return
across the heavens with a warmth
that only you could ever command.

İstanbul 21 November 2021

spring

The ghost of spring wanders here,
aimless and anxious and waiting
to be reborn in small immaculate petals.

With tiny timid steps it traverses
winter’s indifferent graying skies
longing to repaint the world verdurous.

How lithely it will bend itself to the task,
its eager fingers caressing these hills,
birthing blues and greens and such blessings.

I watch, and everywhere I go here,
each trembling step I take into this winter,
I see you—the very image of spring!

For in you fecund hope finds a wondrous home.
In you is life and laughter without equal,
and a beauty that deftly reaches beyond time.

Winter in Göreme, Turkey (Nov 2021)

a song

There is a song that stays
playing through my thoughts
so compellingly calling me
that I cannot help but soulful
sing it aloud again and again
wherever I may be
and whoever might hear,
following each and every note
as it teases my memories
from their reluctant slumber,
drawing needfully my thoughts
into a most insistent longing.

And I welcome it.

The voice of my soul sings to it,
as I youthfully caper and dance
and delight in the zealous joy
that such a melody instills.
The sounds are like colors,
painting fields and flowers
and the dreaming deepest woods,
and even a distant strand
where feet dive deep into the sand,
and laughter splashes over the waves.
You are the song I love to sing,
the song that urges me to hope and desire,
and to moonlight that glows
across your so beautiful face.

little fingers

little fingers
painting pouting petals
tickling timid toes

little hands
dripping ice cream
digging in the dirt

little mouths
whispering wonders
singing so sweetly

little eyes
reflecting such beauty
tendering honest tears

little hearts
offering the biggest
boldest love of all

God, how I miss you,
my little dears

My wee Cooper, Asena, and Leona Ellington

longing

pretend you are me
sweeping immaculate sighs
feel my shattered breath

pleasure beyond words

Oh, I know your words—
I read them often,
licking their delicate
sensual sounds
across my eager lips.

I know the wholly
longing composition of you
perhaps better than you
should know yourself,
for I do covet your voice.

But more than this,
I long to taste the ever
so tempting core of you
warm and wet and gifting
ecstasy to my flesh.

I lie here alone beyond
your touch as ever
but I feel you grasp
the hard length of me,
guiding me within.

And I know that pleasure
could never be more than
the slightest touch
of your lips on mine
as I move within you.

Longing For You

pretty peak the petals
of unsullied spring
sweetly slumbering
beneath the rising bows
of a lumbering birch

breathe me newly, love
loosing nothing more
unsaid beyond the breeze
that blissful leaves me
longing ever more for you

the end of the world

he rests
at the end
of the world
striving to see
something more
something
at the very least
tall and true and
immaculately full
of eternity
something
that will sooth
the angry pain
in his aging limbs
and silence at last
the terrible anguish
in his heart

John O’Groats in the Highlands of Scotland