Hush

Then so winter’s night was ushered in

by soft and swirling snow, sweeping silently through the city streets.
Delightfully spinning their delirium up and around
the somber antiquity of statue and lamp post.
Thus I could not distinguish the moon dancing in her eyes
from their gossamer gaze.

The snow spun its whimsy into doorways,
then raced down the streets as like flights of gleeful children laughing.
Hopping the curbs, cart wheeling through alleyways
that I could feel their jubilation brimming.
As was the joy in my heart as I clung tightly to the warmth
radiating from her hand.

Hearts danced lightly upon window sills
leaving fleeting kisses of frost shimmering upon their glistening glass.
then flirtatiously disappearing into night’s darkness.
There to find the comfort and intimacy of
cuddling under evening’s concealment undiscovered
like the lovers we were.

Yet the snow found the curl of her hair
feathers frozen of white nestling softly within its mystery and darkness
gently stirring the fragrance of her gardens within.
An ardor of intoxicating perfume playful
of the possession and obsession we shared for each other as
her scent was upon me.

Then so she did look up at me softly
the embers of her eyes burning with lights slung low from rooftops high.
The warmth of her breath escaped a subtle smile
that her heart was magically unveiled,
enchantment suspended by evening’s chill that I could touch
might I hold to my own.

“Te amo con todo mi corazón y mi alma.”
Her cheeks warmed like a blushing rose as she spoke these words to me,
yet I could not find mine as I was smitten by the moment.
As wind swept was her hair its tendrils
still could not caress her features as tenderly as the fingers
of even my own hand.

Señorita usted es mi alma cómo yo lo adoro,
the mystery in your eyes, black as coal and yet they burn with the inferno
of embers that stir within the furnace of my own heart.
Lips soft and pouting of Spanish rose,
that as I gaze upon her tonight is to be so enchanted that I
love you ever more.

Thus we stand, surrounded by swirling snow,
the seasonal bustling streets emptied save for the longing of lost hearts
thus encouraged by the voyeuristic lights slung low from
rooftops high I can not deny opportunity.
as pressing advantage to hers she placed a finger to mine
whisperingnto my ear
- Hush

© Charles Cakley Simpson 2004

Tressels

So is my fixation -
A rose wild of tresses tumbling
with enchanted wilderness.
That it cascades softly ‘pon the crescent
of her shoulder’s moon.
Gathering gently in the cradle of her neck
could that I only inter my face
in such delicate scent,
might that I find my atonement
as I abandon my
- Heart

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Lather

Careless my kiss
that her eyes fluttered with anticipation
and as expectation arose between us
she firmly caressed the length of its intimacy.

Lips play gently along the flute of her throat
might that I coax a song of passion.
Thus my fingers entangled within her hair
I court abandon.

Shoulders bare,
breasts harden purling with prominence.
Appraising the luminescence of skin
I indulge the incandescence of her sensuality.

Illuminate intimacy, sweet of scent and sweat,
charms aglow with carnal capability.
Saturate of sensual insatiability I embrace
the inundate radiance of her
- Desire

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2006

Wishes

As a kiss is a wish
thus won’t thou grant me three -
One to tempt mine heart, two to spellbind me,
and thrice thus ne’er would we part
as my wish is to be with
- Thee

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Inferno

The fire in your eyes --
Ignites this smoldering desire.
For it is no more temperate than my heart
which slowly burns to be next
- To you.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Morning's glory

What is my awakening – Except the gentleness of rising light
Silently caressing the contours of her face.
That my renaissance is set aglow by a thinly veiled flameshimmering softly ‘neath the shroud of my sheets.
The line of her hip, the length of her thigh, her shoulder bare
and draped quietly with the remnants of the moon.
Thus the gentle radiance within her dawn is the luminosity of my own epiphanyawakening not only my heart - But my soul.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Knitting Clouds

Is the time I spend -

could that I mend the distance between I and thee,
weaving dreams by sewing the seams of my time and thy tapestry.
Where with my thoughts I loosen these have and have knots
then so to intertwine the impossible with probability.
Thus I purl as I ponder that my mind often wanders as endlessly as the sky,
most indubibly daydreaming of thee as I gather the wool
might that I find this fool solution to the convoluted convolution
of the what’s and the wares of weaving the why.
Yet hopeless it seems to thread the needle of my dreams
I would only be the fool bigger of knot to
- Try

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Godiva

We live our lives with grace
in order that we might die with dignity,
and yet what is the quissential self sacrifice of ones soul
except to live beneath that of another’s shame.
Thus we should all be struck blind
as we gaze upon her
- Humility

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2006

Winter

Thus you serenade me with a siren’s song

the longing wind of summers gone.
Through distant night that darkness parts
speak unto me of haunted hearts.
Sing only not of this loneliness we share
as we sit beside longings despair.
Yet was upon a time which we did know
we were always the same heart
- And soul

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2005

Icarus

How do I miss thee –
That thou was all I had to hold on to.
Were my expectations greater than my dreams
Thus what good is hope if not to want to be closer to thee
as thou was all I ever needed believed in.
Except there was no one here
to catch me when I
- Fell.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Bella

The first time she touched my face -
I saw the stars of wonderment sparkling wit in her eyes
Constellations of exalted expectations
Thus I was caught by my sensualities surprise
even as she counted out loud the moments of her hearts
- Anticipation

The first time she touched my face -
Her lips were soft as her mouth was warm of sweetness
Petals pursed of uninhibited transverse.
That I was left breathless by their tenderness
as she sought to steal that which already belonged to her
- Commerce

The first time she touched my face…
That I knew not whether to jump or fall into her embrace
Designs of her desire set my heart afire
As I surrendered sweetly to be a victim of fate
that as hearts blossomed there was not enough heaven to
- Accommodate.

The first time she touched my face…
is a memory that I treasure thus I polish that gems measure
for its light devours even my darkest hours
An anembrace endowed, is all I have left of her now
of the first time she touched
- My face

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2006

Hiver

So despair, my old friend
that we have met again upon my lost love and stem.
Thus pile your frosts heavy upon my bough;
for it can be no more weight than my heart bears now,
and drive your snows up my trunk in vain
that there is not enough cold to numb this pain.
And let your northern winds sing their songs forsaken,
they are merely the sounds of this ones
- Heart breaking.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2003

Beloved

O’ honey bee -
Can’t you see; what it is you do to me?
O’ how your kisses sting that they make me sing
‘Neath the shade of your honey tree.

Tell me hon’ why so glum
you have so much buzz in your bumble’s bum.
Bee n’ the busy bee you are, you never stop to smell the flora
Of all the honey that you hum.

Take a bee break for heavens sake
bumble down bee side me dear, your honey comb can wait.
Bee wax my ear of your bee charms my dear
n’ the bee kisses you pollinate.

Would you contrive to indubitably deprive
mine infatuations of pollinations to keep this bee love alive,
or ‘tis my time I waste when all I want is a taste
of the honey that resides in your hive.

Alas bee lowed will you not bee trothed
wedding dresses are such messes covered in a honey’s love.
Might still you deny me as your attentions bee lie me
you will always bee my

- Beloved

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2005

Automne

There is beauty in your sadness as there is treasure in your fall
as you have surrounded me with an autumn of your tears.
What once was gold is now merely golden of time I will always endear.
Thus heed not the winds as they lament of hearts broken
Rather that they should sing sonnets of the moments we shared.
As it is not so much about the dream but the dreaming
nor your shade but the shadow
- Of our years.


© Charles Coakley Simpson 2003

Closer

As her love is the wind.
For it is not that I do not want to be loved,
nor do I not know love or how to love and yet her love ever eludes me. Thus I cannot touch it, nor see it, nor hold it to my own.
Still I feel her caressing my face tenderly, as she toys with my hair fondly
that she brushes ever so softly by my ear and whispers gently -
“Close your eyes I am with you now and listen
- To my heart.”

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Sushower

Were only I a blade of grass
That I could be laden in your morning’s dew.
Such a soft gentle caress that it would be my awakening,
for never did I know I could be more than I was
until I was touched by the warmth
- Of you

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2006

Sea of Love

Could that I have been a wave upon your shore
a calming ebb and flow of endless warmth and endearment.
Then so to spend my days carelessly caressing your whitening sands,
coddling sun kissed cheeks, softening wind swept hair.
Thus won’t you set your soul to sail upon me
may that I be the tide ever tending
- To your heart

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2006

Aspiration

As rivers do run to the ocean
thus into the sea.
Then so do tears fall endeared
as mine do flow for thee.
There were moments thus as tender
as moments thus were kind,
that within mine heart
lies ember’s spark
forsooth it still burns for thine.

As mountains aspire to heaven
therefore unto the sky.
What for are dreams unredeemed
when stars are still too high.
Thus if dreams were meant for lovers,
is love then meant for fools,
what fool would I be
were I to dream of thee
whose skies are filled of jewels.

Were you an ocean I would sail
to find your seventh sea
Or e’en a mountain could I scale
that I might be with thee.
If a star is too high I would learn to fly
might one fall I would wish,
‘pon the death of a star
lies the hope of mine heart
might e’en it to be my final kiss.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2007