Hidden Gems that Just Needed Dusting Off

Old poems I found while scrounging around my various boxes, file folders, and so on and so forth. Here is, the first edition of...

Not Just Fools Gold 

Pt. 1:

Man of My Dreams

I sit here weary and waning,

afraid of all I'm not gaining,

waiting to be swept off my feet,

to be taken on that once-upon-a-time 

forever-neverland 

trick-or-treat.

Give me Hell's Night,

a bottle of cheap wine, some hash, 

and a good fight,

but promise not to leave my side,

because it's you who forces me 

to ignore the pull of the tide

and stop the hiding inside.

It's sunny and sweet

anywhere we meet -

a treat,

a magical feat,

a sensuous affair.

Oh boy, it'll take us somewhere.

And "over the rainbow" and all that jazz, too.

God, I want someone just like you –

someone who'll tame my wild beast,

deal with my torturous heat,

keep me from defeat,

give me perpetual twilight,

tickle me where no one can see,

be everything and everyone to me.

copyright 2007 Katherine Andrews

Pt. 2

What We Got

You excite,

take me to the edge of delight,

then you tease and tantalize.

I try to devise

some fancy plot or scheme

to bring me to our dream.

I hold my breath, cross my fingers,

to countless gods I pray,

still, there are not the dazzling colors

exploding, only the in-between

of gray.

Surrounded by a haze,

I wait for days

to be lifted to that highest of heights,

to get that mystical, magical invite,

to get rid of my demons, to exorcise,

but, mostly, for you and me to be realized --

to be that perfect team

built of fire and steam.

Down, down, I lay,

dreaming of sex and the San Francisco bay,

waiting for the touch that will raise

me to that state of crazed

quivering,

where you are delivering

such delight, mixed with just

a tinge of fright

as you send an electrical current through

the nerves of each and every

of my erogenous zones,

and with such skill, such subtlety,

such size.

You are my prize.

The joy may be fleeting,

like our meetings,

quick and pure,

but oh, so much more.

This fantasy of mine may seem

the stuff of smoke and steam,

but you much more than exceed

the silliest of my daydreams.

You bring me to the brink,

play with me, wink,

then you take me beyond and above,

fill me with laughter, light, love.

Then I lay panting and flushed,

but never rushed,

in the cradle of your arms,

languishing in your charms.

You hold me tight,

god, how you excite.

I love the way take me to the edge of delight,

hold me there, poised on the brink,

then you take me all the way,

until I sink

into a moment of purity and calm,

our hands entwined -- palm in palm.

You, you are so much more than all the rest –

the best of the best.

Even when we plot and scheme,

what we got is the stuff of dreams.

copyright 2006 Katherine Andrews

Pt. 3

I Miss

I miss wading in ponds

and the feeling 

of power

when slicing a canoe oar

 through anything with 

true current.

I miss

my incredible strength

and wrapping my legs

around your back

so hard, so hungry,

I was afraid

I would break it and

the grip of a muscle

so unrelenting

it would put any beasts jaws to shame.

I miss

being able to give you

little useless bits and pieces,

scraps of paper

so meaningful and yet so ridiculous

they seemed to reek.

I miss

you rushing onto the porch

so that I would be the first 

to hear your secrets,

and you,

always the first to greet me,

as is if there were some 

invisible race

to see who could reach me 

first.

I miss

melting.

Your arms were so hot

my every pore and nerve ending

got soaked with a heat that

turned everything in its path

to molten-golden lava-like liquid

emotion,

interference.

All these things,

all this

and so much more,

Somehow I find myself

exploring each day.

I take from it 

what I will.

All this and

so much more,

I miss.

I want.

copyright 2006 Katherine Andrews

***AUDIO ON ITS WAY!!!***