Even the thought of it makes me feel queasy
like the first day of the flu
I swear even my teeth ache
a kind of fever of my soul
a chill in my spirit
a loss of appetite of the female psyche.

Summer wind blowing though my hair

and I ride for miles without a care

I cross the bridge from where you live

and think about what I would give

if the breeze were to lay me down

I love to watch
the just ripe
juice spurt out
over the corners of his
dark pink mouth
I like to see it glisten
and make it’s way across
his plump bottom lip
and trickle down

I want you most in summer

When lush fruit hangs heavy on the vine
And tasting pink reminds me of
Never ending sweetness
Trickling down your lips

The light in your eyes shine

You said
it was my green eyes
and my little girl laugh
that did you in

I say
I think it was when
you called me sweet thing

You said
this love so tender
would always be there

We couldn’t fool
people if we tried
Love oozes through the pools
in our eyes
spilling down over our hearts
outlining every path and curve
sneaking between each
deep red bubbling beat.

Because it’s so warm, ripe and juicy
I do it standing up
I carefully peel
and I can’t help but feel
the wet flesh on my
fingers, hands and mouth
such, a lush
moist mess!

If you don’t smile at little babies
or old men with their gummy grins
then you’ll never smile again

If you don’t cry at movies,
or as the first snow flake falls,

Do sparks fly?
way up in that sky?

Is there love?

Is there lust?

I must ask why.

With you, I would go
but I just need to know

Would we look down at the stars?

I have him by his balls now
the one with the muscular thighs
that drag over my body
and send shivers up my spine
the wine
that bursts rich flavors of
blackberry on the roof of my mouth

Take the day
you,
yes you
pressed me up against the wall
with your eyes
in the dimly lit hallway
where everything was sticky and wet
and you kept me there
trembling, dolling out kisses

When I die

let me lay

beside you

in fields among fertile ground

where herbs will flourish

all around

and

the rosemary’s

sweet aroma will

call to mind

days spent

Those Soldiers
© Linda R. O'Connell

They’ve earned their stripes.

Those damp beach towels on a summer night

Lined up at ease along the fence

Black ink spills across my page
Straight from the spigot of my soul
I have been writing poetry.

People find it hard to believe
Their eyes are wide
They look at me and shake their heads

Standing here, mesmerized...
I seem to have found my way.
This tree, overlooking this beautiful lake
right at this moment,
is where God intended me to be.
It’s almost like I am looking