By the Shore


By the Shore


I will wait by the shore,

when you left all the waves disappeared

and the sand lost its joy and the sun became cold

while the winds pulled your sails far away.

Other lands get to kiss you today

other lives take you far from the hold

of loose dreams that you found in this place

where my love lives marooned

in the wishes I tossed all around

hoping hands such as yours

would caress what it found.

And I’ll wait your return

to feed dreams like you did once before

if a kiss from your lips meant to burn

and a look enamored

then forever I’ll look for your sails

while I wait by the shore-



“I thought of you and how you love this beauty,

And walking up the long beach all alone

I heard the waves breaking in measured thunder

As you and I once heard their monotone.


Around me were the echoing dunes, beyond me

The cold and sparkling silver of the sea —

We two will pass through death and ages lengthen

Before you hear that sound again with me.”

― Sara Teasdale


In Search of a Lover


In Search of a Lover


I need to find me a lover

before this burning passion

will dry and disappear

and fingers lose a need

to touch her skin at night

and lips forget the taste,

I need to find someone

to tender my desires

and help me to retrace

the love I lived before,

the one sometimes I write

in verses to replace

this need to find me a lover,

someone who when comes near

her touch will light the fires

that time just turned to embers

and skin so much remembers

how much I need a lover-


“The minute I heard my first love story,

I started looking for you, not knowing

how blind that was.

Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere.

They’re in each other all along.”

― Jalaluddin Mevlana Rumi

‘Tis Love



‘Tis Love


Describe to me what love should be

if what you seek is real

or only a ghost that haunts your dreams

in lonely nights.

What is it then that fills your heart

with so much hope for some ideal

stuck inside your puzzled mind,

when flesh and blood

is all we find

in fleeting ones that never stay.

So tell me then

if time is kind to promise more

than a brief smile,

wouldn’t you say

that love is all we ever known?

In lovers gone,

in tender hands and hasty kisses

or brief hellos

from strangers lips,

a casual touch from someone’s hand

that left a burn or left a scar,

for it was love

Wouldn’t you say?


“Maybe that’s what love is, I thought: it’s being pissed off.”

― Margaret Atwood, The Year of the Flood

A Wounded Bird


A Wounded Bird


Shapes of dark feathers perfectly aligned

against the sky marked a path south

where winter’s lips coldly kiss the clear night-

And your eyes tell me it is time

to spread wings and plan your flight

to new horizons where summer’s heat

will match your wish for freedom

while left behind in a drouth

of dreams a goodbye kiss-

And cold approaching fast reminds me

a promise made some time ago

when kisses fresh the excitement fed

in moments perfect for each other

and hoped my arms help you forget

a golden cage left open-

But now your eyes will look away

into a place your heart will hold

whereas my arms so frail and old

cannot embrace what you now seek,

so spread your wings

my wounded bird I will not speak

but let you go

to summer days awaiting you

while here I’ll stay in winter’s cold-


This poem was inspired by a dream. Dark hair tied into a bun, pale skin, pensive eyes she looked towards the sky where the birds flying south left a longing in her eyes. I knew then I needed to let her go. I woke up feeling sad with a sense of loss.

“Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.”

― Leonardo da Vinci

I Will Think of You


I Will Think of You


When the morning dew

kiss the trumpet lilies

I will think of you-

When the bright sunshine

in an late fall day

on the pond display

all the rainbow colors

I will think of you-

When the gentle waves

with a salty taste

of a summer night

blankets me in delight

I will think of you-

An every fleeting day

with the changing seasons

will be all the reasons

to recall your face

and to think of you-


“In this story

I am the poet

You’re the poetry.”

― Arzum Uzun

More or Less



More or Less


Would I love you the same, more or less?

His hands heavy on your skin

staining dreams

left in purpose behind for a sin

to be nourish ‘til bloom.

And I know to belong takes more than a ring

or the passing of years

and what holds you together presumed

to be love and not fears.

But, does he loves you the same, more or less?

Does he smells your perfume like I do

on my pillow when I wish your embrace

 wasn’t leftover dreams?

Tell me then if he sets you aflame

why you look for my face

and at night making love you remember

to bite hard on your lips

so you won’t call my name-

Do you love me the same, more or less?


“If he touched her, he couldn’t talk to her, if he loved her he couldn’t leave, if he spoke he couldn’t listen, if he fought he couldn’t win.”

― Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things

Skin to Skin



Skin to Skin


There is something about skin to skin

that intoxicates and dull my senses,

the exquisite feel of sweat and oil

between the tightness of two bodies

that glide across with legs uncoil

in rubbing back and forth desires-

There is something that consumes my mind

her rounded back which makes me flushed

with lust and wants, and my body tenses

amid the moans when holding strong

skin to skin, my fingers rushed

between her thighs the pleasure find

and lost become where I belong,

skin to skin-


“There is a perfection in everything that cannot be owned.”

― Anaïs Nin, Delta of Venus