I’m walking down by the water in Monte Carlo… the big blue sea sparkling its harmonious melody.
The afternoon summer breeze lifting my hair, penetrating my soul with the glow of pink and orange sunset hues.
A sailor tips his hat nodding his head – paying homage to my viral femininity. His eyes sway to the click of my heels for what seems like an eternity.
I’m wearing Chanel No. 707 on my fingertips, and 507 on my lips.
Thank you ~ MaryAnn Koopmann
“Completely different writing styles complement each other beautifully to form a flow of positive consciousness that is sure to brighten anyone’s day. The poetry in here was the absolute best to delve into. The romance poet in this book really knows her romance.
Mostly, this is beautiful creative writing with a sensual theme. There is a nurturing quality to the lust, a beautiful connection between souls and an almost spiritual element in the union of lovers in a comforting embrace and heartfelt connection.
I found many of these poems were dipped in pleasure, but still retained an element of comfort. This is the type of book you can read at night before you go to bed and it may even produce beautiful dreams of the person you love.
She is a master at creating stories around life’s human experiences of hopes, dreams, disappointments, regret, and tragedy. She writes through the eyes and ears of each of her characters with clarity and vision.”
Dante Alighieri’s Paradise. Illustrated by Gustave Doré
A bright sun radiates and shines, warming their skin as they walk on the sand, hand in hand. Bare feet, rhythmic steps, in tune with each other, watching the waves dance and sing a melodic tune that plays God’s symphony.
Eros looks at Amora as she looks out to the horizon, the endless tranquil horizon. Curious thoughts pass through his mind. What is she thinking about so deep in her thoughts? What is so important to her? Is she not happy with all the love I give her? What more could anybody want besides the full devotion of a loved one?
Amora smiles, sensing his attention on her, turns around and looks at him. He smiles at her beautiful face; their hearts smile along. Enamored by his beauty, she kisses the lips, decorating his entire face in her loving kisses. Eros seizes her pulling her close, squeezing her body against his and giving her the longest kiss. In love, they smile and continue walking down the ocean shore.
Amora looks at Eros, looking out into the distance, curious thoughts pass through her head. What is my love thinking about? Is there anyone else in his heart besides me? Why is he so distant sometimes? Can’t he see how much I love him? He looks at her before she finishes her thought, sweeps her, lifting her up, and spins her with the music in the air. She runs to the water as he puts her down, looking back at Eros, beckoning his call.
The water caresses her feet, sending cold chills to her spine. Eros runs after Amora in a chase, splashing through the water in desperate anticipation—running and playing, so free and wild, smiling and laughing, in each other’s hearts. Lost in a space without limits or walls, recreating the dream in their souls of their first encounter. Without hesitation, he charges to her, capturing her in a frenzy, forcing her to the ground, pinning her down.
The waves wash over them, bathing their clothes and skin in cool caresses. The sun sets in her hair, shimmering rays reflect off her face. He kisses her neck, her chest, hearing the pounding of her heart screaming the sounds of her love that resonate through his lips into his heart.
Engulfed in warmth and wetness, their bodies vibrate to each other’s sounds. He glimpses at her dreamy face, off in a distant place. He wonders why she’s in a daze, what mazes her face, just as she looks at his face, “I love you” she says. “I love you” he says, embracing each other as the earth embraces them in their love.
The sounds of those three magical words set their bodies into a symphony of love, drifting them into God’s aria, harmonizing endless musical masterpieces.
© 2013 Dreams of Love
It was a warm sunny day in my backyard when I noticed a ladybug in my pool. I stepped inside and brought ladybug out of the water.
We, ladybug and I, symbiosed for quite a while. She tried to fly away, but she could not.
She tried to extend her wings, but her wing covers, the elytra, were stuck because they were wet and she tried to fly away, but could not.
She crawled on my hand for some time, then tried again to lift her elytra, but she could not. Poor ladybug, I could feel her frustration.
Then, after numerous attempts, she finally lifted her black dotted, red elytra. Oh I was so happy!
Next, she tried to extend her wings, but she could not.
The wings under the elytra are ever so delicate and thin. Poor lady bug! Now I felt the struggle escalate; her wings were crumpled and stuck together. She tried and tried, but still she could not. I was suffering with her.
She kept exerting pressure, but the wet wings would not budge, they were crumpled in a ball. She kept exerting pressure and more pressure, until eventually I started to see the ball open up, one small increment at a time. Her wings would open up, dry a little. As they did, it looked as if they were completely broken. I thought, poor ladybug, she cannot fly ever again.
But after many, many repetitions and attempts, finally she was able to fully extend her wings. Oh how beautiful they looked, so delicate, tiny, thin and alive, and I could feel how relieved she was, stretching in victory and stretching them wide.
She crawled forward in an attempt to fly off, but she could not.
On the next attempt though, she flew off my finger. But sweet little ladybug could not fly too far and fell right back into the pool, in the same spot I had found her.
Oh ladybug made me laugh and almost cry. I picked her back up again, she crawled out of the pool and onto my hand. There we were again, back to square one. I put lady bug down on the floor next to me, as I wanted to get to reading Brida by Paulo Coelho.
After a short while, I looked down to see if lady bug was still there, I did not see her. She must have flown away. Her destiny, I do not know, maybe she was destined to stay in the pool, maybe she fell back in the pool again, or maybe she flew off to where she was going before I found her in the pool. I would like to think she flew off far and away.
© 2009
She was wearing a white wife beater when they walked into the clothing store. They all scattered, going to the different racks.
She walked through the store uninterested in any of the items when a black tank top with a cross, caught her eye. She inspected the front and back. The backside had the same design running through the vertical length of it. She loved the style and thought to try it on.
She walked into the dressing room, took off her white wife beater and slipped on the black one. The fit was perfect-she decided to buy it. She thought to keep it on since it looked better than the white one she had walked in with. Putting the white one into her purse, she walked out of the dressing room and headed towards the register to pay, when the thought crossed her mind- if she was to walk out of the store without paying for it, would anyone notice?
A rush of paranoia shot through her body. It’s not right, I’m going to pay for it right now, I don’t want to deal with the karmic energy. But I can’t let go of this feeling, I want to go through it all the way. Fuck it! I’m going to do it. All the while observing everyone in the store, accessing if her plan could go through. Piece of cake!.
Exhilarated, she tried hard to prevent her heartbeat from skyrocketing and revealing her secret, all the while taking an inventory of all the workers and the numerous customers. No one was paying any attention to her, or her tank top. She changed directions and joined her friends.
They left the store making small talk. Inconspicuously, she looked back to make sure no one was after her. A strong sense of relief, of achievement, washed over her, when she saw the coast was clear. That heavy feeling had turned into a soft, tingly, almost numbing sensation on her skin, and her heart was beating a different beat-calmer-not as intense and life threatening as she was feeling just a few minutes ago.
She thought, after all, it was a piece of cake, because neither one of her three friends even noticed the change of color of her shirt from white to black.
©2009