Monthly Archives: November 2013

Empty calories

. My Poetry . , , , , , , , ,

Is my treat really just empty calories?
I wish it wasn’t.
I get so close,
I try to bury my face.
I inhale another feast.

Just the scent
turns my soul electric.
First a thought,
then a touch,
finally, a taste…

I surge with the sweetness
as sugar floods my body.
My heart races,
my breath flutters.

A candy shell nearly devoured.
The licks haven’t made it to the center of the tootsie pop.
and if I bite down, it will be gone.

I bury my face again
inhaling as deeply as I can,
until I can’t get one more ounce of breath.
I hold it for a long time.

Why I should have skipped dessert

. My Poetry . , , , , , ,

The anticipation of something is often the sweetest thing. It is a moment so delicious nothing could live up to the idea if it.

It should come as no surprise, then, that I wish I hadn’t eaten that delicious dessert. It would have been better to leave it just the way it was, looking so good behind the glass of the bakery’s display case.

But it was such a yummy looking pastry, with a buttery crust and cream piled high in the middle. I just had to have it!

It started to sweat as soon as it was removed. Then, when I bit it, I smashed it a little. I knew it would be messy. Yet, still, I took another bite and smashed it even more. Things got foggy then, and in an instant it was gone from my sight.

As the sugar rush gave way to a hangover, I thought I would feel more complete. Yet all I feel is empty after eating such a delicious treat. I long to admire it again the way it was before I made a mess of it, untouched, perfect and safe behind the glass of the bakery’s display case.

Punch Bowl

. My Poetry . , , ,

I either fell directly into the punch
or I soaked into it
as if through a slow drip IV.

I know I’m submerged because everything around me is so sweet.
Sound is muffled.
Sight is soft and glowing.
I feel my heart beat in my ears.
My feet aren’t touching the ground.

I know I have to come up for air.
When I do, sound and sight are once again crisp and clear.
Don’t stay under too long.
Be careful not to drown.

Rainbow

. My Poetry . , , ,

Orange and yellow,
purple and blue.
I see colors when I’m loving you.

From deep inside
the wave rolls.
What will it look like this time?

Yellow like honeycomb.
Orange like a flame.
Purple and blue burst like a vein.

Fuchsia smears across my brain.
Red surges through me like blood.
Greens ripple across the landscape.

Touching the delta,
I connect to the source
that made me capable of receiving.

Sugar rush

. My Poetry .

My blood is electric.
My heart beats out of my chest
at the very thought
of touching and tasting it.
Sugar rush, my face gets flushed.
The deepest parts ache
for the sweetest dessert,
the most delicious cake.

Cake

. My Poetry . , , ,

There was a beautiful cake lying there.
It was begging to be eaten.
I had come to the table late,
so no one saw me take it.
At first it was just a little taste,
but one thing let to another.
What started on the edges,
turned out to be too many bites.
I accidentally ate it.
It is the cake’s fault, you know,
for being so delicious.
That cake knew how yummy it looked.
Really, could anyone blame me?