The Neighbors - 99 word flasher

"I wish we'd never told them. Now they behave like we're some alien species."

"It's only dinner."

"She keeps giving me pamphlets about women's rights. And he peeks over the fence when I weed the garden."

“Let’s give them a show. I’ll meet them at the door wearing a black leather mask and you serve dinner naked from your hands and knees. Or perhaps I will suspend you from the ceiling and suck grapes from your cunt.”

“You’re a wicked man. Now I’ll have that image in my head all evening.”

“Good. Save some of these grapes for later.”

Re-working old stories

I recently had to recapture a lot of my previous works due to a computer death. I was also lucky enough to find several pieces in progress - and have been reviewing and tweaking them for possible submissions to current or future COF's.

I've learned a lot about myself and my writing over the years. It's an interesting, inspiring and sometimes humbling experience to read stories that I wrote when I first began to purposely work at this craft.

It's interesting to see that the characters I created years ago still speak to me. I can see them clearly in my mind's eye. I'm still in love with each and every one of them.

It's inspiring because by reading my old stories, I recognize that this is my purpose. This talent is my destiny. I feel complete and centered when writing. In touching these pieces, I'm inspired to create new work. I hope to never lose sight of that again.

And this process is humbling. As I read and smile and swell with pride, I also stumble over those parts that just plain suck.

What the hell was I thinking? Did I write that? "Ravenous growls?" Good Grief!

At that point, I'm humbled and reminded that with any talent must come the work. The editing, the re-writing, the promoting. Without that, talent doesn't mean squat. It's only potential.

10% inspiration + 90% perspiration.

Oh yeah...

Back to work.

More cinquains = Yielded

Yielded

Power
carefully used
subtly, in ways unseen
Dominion is wielded over
my soul.

Enclose
me in your strength
Remove my defenses
all my vulnerability
is yours.

Mercy
is what I beg
but it’s not what I need
Show me none. Make me the cream of
your crop.

Yielding
I bend to you
like clay under your touch
I am molded to your desires
Make me.

Travel
my body with
your fingers. Follow with
Your mouth. Discover my secrets
Explore.

Inside
Within my walls
you stroke and strum my soul
creating intimate music
I sing.

*******

Again, another group of cinquains composed at different times, when joined creating a new piece.


The artwork on these pieces is word clouds from http://www.wordle.net/

Grouped Cinquains = Yielding

Yielding

No way
not me, not that
Silky ties tease my skin
well, maybe just a little kink
this once.

Open
Under your eyes
Restrained, wrists to ankles
Vulnerable, like a rose bud
I bloom.

Rising
To meet your strokes
I writhe within my bonds
Anchored to the earth, you teach me
to fly.

*********

These were three separate cinquains, written at different times. However, when grouped together, they form a longer piece.

Hands

Strong, powerful hands travel soft curves and warm flesh.

Who would guess that such large hands were capable of such delicate precision?

Each feathery touch designed for maximum effect.

Calloused thumbs gently brush tightened nipples.

Purposeful fingers probe slippery folds

and stroke…

There

and

oh yes...

right

there.

*****

Originally published in 2003

In the Pink - 100 word Flasher

“Stop squirming.”

“This is so sexy, no one’s ever done this for me before.”

“Stay still, or I will restrain you.”

She clawed the sheets to keep herself from wriggling.

He dipped into the liquid and then with careful precision, stroked. Then again he plunged into the silky liquid and with excruciating slowness, using just the tip, he daubed. The pink spread with each feathery touch.

He inhaled and blew, his breath teasing her flesh.

“Oh God…” she groaned.

Satisfied, he admired her seashell-pink painted toenails.

He grinned.

“Now let’s see about making the rest of you pink to match.”

*******

This was originally written in 2003. It's been tweaked and IMO, improved.

Once

A line in the flesh barely visible,
the faint scar the only evidence
that once this heart
was tethered to another.

Strong hands once held a fragile soul
contained within a wild fire
masterfully manipulating the flame
like an artist, kindling the passions
that set the spirit ablaze.

Once, an uncompromising will
held an unruly heart joyously captive
in the tender bondage
of love.

****

Another old favorite. I find that I am particularly poetically prolific when filled with angst... Happiness steers me more toward cinquains.

C'est la vie.