Presents...5,000 Views

today i hit 5,000 views on my page. i knew i was money!

Presents..."Moments That Take My Breath Away" by Michelle Foster

"we sit here together holding hands and
i secretly wonder if he understands

sometimes scared to face him and look in his eyes
because he sees so deep, i think he sees straight inside.

does he feel my fear or the happiness that soars.
can he feel my mixed emotions of wanting more.

wondering if he'll lean in and our lips will touch
as our hands embrace and my heart starts to race.

since a kiss is not just a kiss, it's a magical tell all,
it can make the difference of whether a heart stops or starts to fall.

scared to explore the possibilities that that linger,
filling the room like a romantic song from a singer.

so as we sit here together can he hear my heart skip a beat and my breaths get weak...
because inside i feel it was him i was destined to meet."

Writes..."Sonnets 131-140"

sonnet 131

“in the past i’ve been content to deny…
telling myself living without was fine…
but i’ve discovered that to be a lie;
that a life without love couldn’t be mine…
i can no longer dismiss what i’ve seen…
my eyes won’t allow me to anymore…
‘cause in prior times such an act did mean,
i had ignored someone worth looking for…
so today i choose to share a feeling;
some private sentiment meant to express,
that perhaps in finding one appealing,
there’s more in doing a little less…
like stating that she’s important to me…
the dedication of words orally…”

sonnet 132

“it’s been written: i only want one thing;
and that’s true because i am like most guys…
whether we’re coupled or a short-lived fling,
my station lies betwixt a pair of thighs…
the truth is i want more than her vagine…
“va jean” being its pronunciation…
start at her hips, it’s the space between,
just so there’s no misinterpretation;
or any words come out accidental…
since nothing ever “cums” out a mistake…
i own the pussy; the womb’s a rental,
as an oven for my baby to bake…
i do want one thing: my own in the end…
a reality based off a thought penned…”

sonnet 133

“this ode is a gift; it’s tribute-serving…
to all those that inspire me to write…
so in the selflessness of observing,
i selfishly use words in black and white…
hoping they fulfill their true objective:
an attempt at well-earned recognition…
written praise from a writer’s perspective;
only penned without his hand’s permission…
i offer these lines in order to say:
thanks from the heart; blah blah, tenth syllable…
liking my thoughts shown in a creative way,
just shows that my ego’s unkillable…
‘cause compliments feed an arrogant hat,
thus, seen in my work; i thank y’all for that…”

sonnet 134

“it’s only in thoughts of her i realize,
that a love for her resides within me…
it lies deeper than a pair of brown eyes,
and farthest than anything they may see…
they lack; i can’t visualize what i think;
yet it inside allows me to recall:
when love penned on a heart in lasting ink,
then it tattooed means you’re fated to fall…
and i’ve fallen, through words in pretty script…
written on mine by destiny’s own hand…
my emotions being shown as ink dripped;
pooling in the area where i stand…
‘cause it’s in loving her i learn the truth;
only permanent acts are seen as proof…”

sonnet 135

“i yell out her name in the darkest night,
when even the moon has abandoned me…
and the stars shine slightly less than they might,
if they only shone bright in times that we,
watched together, coupled, to discover,
the magnificence they tend to display…
when she and i, naked under cover;
let actions say what we wanted to say…
now heavenly bodies avoid my eyes,
divine ones in the sky; hers here on earth…
it’s through an empty bed that i realize,
exactly what our past exploits were worth…
i stare at the black, my mind on the fact,
life without her has had such an impact.…”


sonnet 136

“i don’t need to talk, she echoes my thoughts;
‘cause she says the things that i’d past written…
in each word spoken; and there have been lots,
i need not wonder whether she’s smitten...
but “echoed” means she’s just repeating me;
which means i have ideas worth repeating…
since my every thought’s been geared towards we;
penned lines on us prove our love’s not fleeting…
we’re confirmed when my words escape her lips…
i stand still in order to clearly hear…
the term “always”; and find that adverb grips,
but it’s her “forever” that makes me tear…
both words whispered denotes i should listen…
to our hearts out loud while my cheeks glisten…”

sonnet 137

“the simple truth is the past isn’t passed,
not until you see the future complete…
and you’ll discover the present will last,
as long as the past is stuck on repeat…
but i’m not arguing that’s that harmful,
i loop the time when she was at my side…
so close to me, got myself an armful;
a handful too; as i’d not be denied…
must i press play in order to progress;
perhaps fast-forward that scene to the next?
would that experience mean a little less,
if i did; knowing the past had been exed?
does closure mean i turn the page on her?
well fuck that; what’s better than what we were…”

sonnet 138

“either pro- or anti-; even in dreams…
and nightmares; i tend to be the same way…
i’m noticing i see life in extremes…
where i claim black or white, but never gray…
when i say black, i mean the darkest hue;
the furthest end of the color spectrum…
my position’s seen as slightly askew;
my knows like a deviated septum…
i disgress, my point’s i tend to commit,
to a view; even if that view’s not norm…
despite having to deal with others’ shit,
i am who i am and i won’t conform…
‘though things may be easier as a shade,
an intense tint means i’m better displayed…”

sonnet 139

“i’m no superman though i’ve heard the phrase;
clark kent’s more accurate to what most see…
it’s only through self-awareness these days,
i can be the person i want to be…
and i want to wear a permanent “s”;
all women can see when we’re not in bed…
embedded; maybe then they’ll acquiesce;
that i’m as “super”, when no words are said;
or no words are penned; i’ll still be gifted…
and not one they’ll find easy to replace…
no longer meaning my role has shifted;
more like the two me’s now stand in one place,
with no super powers; a normal guy…
becomes heroic just because we try…”

sonnet 140

“my thoughts vary when i’m thinking of her…
in imagery of an extended range…
but in my opinion, i would prefer,
knowing our thoughts were an equal exchange…
she provides no clues her thoughts are of me;
not even a word to say how she feels…
yet i know that both of us would agree,
that one or two definitely appeals…
thus, i’ve been hesitant in assuming…
my heart’s inspired hers to feel the same…
‘though her presence on my mind’s consuming;
i know i only have myself to blame,
for a situation so appallin’…
when she gives little to one who’s fallen…”

Finally Finished..."The Past Re-Visited"

“i’ve been reprimanded about writing about the past and there’s merit to that argument, especially when it comes to me writing about things i would change if i could go back in time. the fact is i can’t, so penning how i would do this or wouldn’t do that is kind of an act of absurdity; my life to this point has been what i’ve made of it (no comments please) and there aren’t many things i would “fix” if given the opportunity. notice i said “aren’t many things” and not “isn’t anything”: there is something i think about not having done before now and i imagine if i had done that thing it would have gone something like this…

“we were actually making love, without protection as always, when we made the decision. usually we practiced our preferred, well, regular method of birth control which consisted of me pulling out right before i spilled my seed in her, and then both of us praying feverishly for a minus sign, or no pink, or whatever the result of a negative pregnancy was for that particular brand of test i would have her taking after a couple of days. don’t get me wrong; i wanted kids, always had, and that wasn’t a secret to anyone. truth is, anyone who had even spent one second discussing the subject with me knew where my head was at when it came to me having a family one day. i wanted the “white picket fence” though i’d never dreamed of an actual white picket fence, but the wife and the kids were definitely there in the image i’d pictured for my life. i’d always imagined myself the head of a household and together we were a “norman rockwell” painting: only with black people. we just had never taken the idea past the hypotheticals: the “what-if’s” and such; where we thought of first and middle names that we liked with “wilson” but never really anything more significant than that. “how smart would it be?” “very.” “would i prefer a boy or a girl?” “a healthy baby, its gender didn’t matter.” but she and i hadn’t actually discussed any serious plans towards starting a family of our own before. see, she already had kids and they already had names that weren’t “wilson”. she had already gone through the morning sickness and the swollen feet, plus a labor that she had been forced to endure by herself. yet she wanted more; and equally as important, at least in my eyes, was what she’d determined one thing from our time with one another: that she didn’t just want to have more kids, she wanted to carry my offspring. let me write that again because i think the last sentence bears repeating: “she’d determined one thing from our time with one another: that she didn’t just want to have more kids, she wanted to carry my offspring.” not because it would be “a baby genius”; as she had called our child in past conversations, or that she figured a kid born of she and i would be a kid spawned by a brilliant father and an equally gifted mother would be born exceptional; but because it would be two-halves of a love that couldn’t be defined with words: the personification of a connection between friends, who had become lovers, and then partners as parents.

if i did the math i’m sure i could have determined our child had been conceived sometime during an act of coitus where i had ejaculated in her sometime between her second and third orgasms; not that her climaxing multiple times was a rare feat when it came to our lovemaking, but intimate encounters between us usually were marathon sessions, only ended one of us passed out from exhaustion. so not having lasted as long as i normally would have made that night especially memorable. i’ll never forget the feel of being inside of her: she radiated such a heat as i moved in and out of her that it felt like we were on fire; and us ablaze meant i wasn’t going to be setting any endurance records that time. her first orgasm came fairly quickly, less than two minutes into it, she was spasming; screaming out the filthiest obscenities at the bedroom walls until her orgasm began to subside and she returned to licking my ear and kissing my neck. the second one, about sixty seconds later, before the first had reached its conclusion due to my continued stimulation of her body. somehow she managed to force out an “i love you” as she exploded for the second time; and then no words came out, though her mouth remained agape. my assault on her womanhood persisting until i told her i couldn’t hold on much longer and she nodded expectantly; and in a moment of shared eye contact we both knew we were on the verge of taking our relationship to a level far beyond what we had enjoyed to that point; and were perfectly fine with it. then she placed her hands on my ass, pulling me deeper inside of her and i erupted into the depths of her. and it was done; the wheels of both of us getting what we wanted had been set in motion.

our daughter wasn’t born on a particularly significant day, or at a particularly significant time; in fact, the only thing that made her birth significant at all was that she was mine…and hers…and being a child born to us made her truly significant.”

like i said earlier, i can’t go back and change the past but when i think about the one thing i would go back and do differently, this is what i think about.”

sometime around the end of '11. just finished today. i think.

Presents..."Suddenly Gone" by Michelle Foster

"in the blink of an eye you were suddenly gone, it was a hurt i was accustomed to a feeling well known

it’s been awhile and i totally understand, for god has taught me to put my trust in him

i can never take back the things i’ve said, i can never erase the feelings i’ve tried to shed

i will never forget the moments we shared, even if in the end it was only i who cared

it is better to have loved than to never have loved at all, to have felt the feelings to have answered the call

some part of my heart will always belong to you, i would have given you the whole thing, for sure it’s true

i will always remember when i first saw you, standing outside in perfect view

then when i met you my heart instantly knew that in that moment i would always love you

something in your smile, that something in your eyes, that something inside that made my heart fly

i will always remember the moments we shared and i pray you will remember i’ve always cared"

Presents..."Pain Of The Heart" by Michelle Foster

"my heart is aching because i’m thinking of you. i hope i’m not scaring you with my forward point of view

i try to control my thoughts and my out of control urges, but everytime i think of you my mind just surges

how do you tell your heart to leave it alone when for so very long it’s been all you’ve known?

the feelings of affection the desire of love the unending need for all the above

explain it can’t, take it away i’ve tired all its has led to is the many nights i’ve cried

never understanding the true meaning of why i could love someone despite all this time

if the feelings could go away i knelt and prayed, day, after day, after day, after day

strong they stay, never to stray getting stronger and stronger in every way

the only true cure is heartache or love but a lead to the answer is in the heavens above

the answer may never come and the days may grow long but i pray before i go i will have known a two-sided love and a happy home"

Presents..."Mend" by Michelle Foster

"is it possible that my heart will mend and the healing process will start from within?

is it possible that in the circle called life that i can finally stop feeling hurt and strife?

because all i ask and all i seek is to rise above this feeling of defeat

to the end that may come, or the beginning that may start to the fury & rage deep within my heart

i will fight the fight for the life i deserve for my state of sanity i seek to preserve

for all that i am hope to become i will make something out of this life i come from

so i ask is it possible for my heart to mend, so i can finally have joy, peace, and happiness within?"

Presents..."Eyes" by Michelle Foster

"the beauty of your soul shows deep within your eyes
those eyes that glisten brown with such surprise
i look at them and think can you see what i hide
can you see the true emotions i feel down inside
if it were just about the eyes i would already be taken
to a world where my life would no longer be vacant
there you would be it would no longer be a dream
i would finally have the life my eyes has always seen
i would cry every night, but they would be tears of joy
because i could finally lay there and have you to hold
if only the world worked the way dreams do
i’d know in the end i would be with you
that life my never come and my dreams may just be dreams
so i’ll hold on to those brown eyes and the things unseen"

Presents..."True Love" by Michelle Foster

"i’ve been in love a few times in my life, some was good, and some tested my might

it is better to have loved than never have loved at all is a famous statement i do recall

love gives you life, whether good or bad, we were never promised just happy not sad

without the bad we would have never known good, might have never learned to love as we should

troubles will come and troubles will go, so don’t let the troubles determine your flow

hold on tight and don’t lose sight, true love is worth the mighty fight

the peace it gives to an empty heart is like the jump you give to a battery that won’t start

the look in your eyes, the smile on your face gives you the strength to continue the race

through the bumps and scrapes, the laughs, the cries, the moments that make butterflies

love, love many types of love, but true love will fit like the perfect glove

so as stated before, don’t give up the fight, find your true love and hold on tight"

Another Favorite Poet...Michelle Foster

"i've only known michelle for a month now but in that time i've learned enough about her to know that, like everyone else i acknowledge on my blog, she's gifted with the use of words. there's a depth to her poetry that draws the reader in and captivates them until the last line is finished. look out for upcoming posts of her work or check out her blog @ sweetmzfoster.blogspot.com."

Writes..."Sonnets 121-130"

sonnet 121

“the sad thing is i don’t feel bonded to,
or linked to, anyone; there’s disconnect…
between myself and all the people who,
belive us united; as they reflect…
i know different, there’s no refuting,
the fact that i’ve never felt more lonely…
who i am and what i want: disputing;
i find that to be my one and only,
way of thinking; being my life these days…
i merely exist amongst the shadows,
and wonder if this dark is but a phase;
knowing the truth is that nobody knows…
the purest black inhabits a lone soul,
one; in solitude; wishing it was whole…”

sonnet 122

“only took three days to get her to fall,
the fourth day was spent getting to her feet…
she’s now in love with everything and all,
i’ve said or done the she’s determined sweet…
which has been a lot; in a little time;
or maybe she likes the feeling it brings;
but she’s not in love with me because i’m,
just an asshole who does these kind of things…
but i can’t help it, it’s just who i be:
a romantic; romantically-charged…
and if she desires a better me,
she’ll mean to find one with his heart enlarged;
with his ego reduced; such a contrast;
in order to make that her feelings last…”

sonnet 123

“but i’m not jealous ‘cause of what he’s got,
even though he has the one thing i don’t…
they can say in’m envious, but i’m not;
they may want me to claim it, but i won’t…
it’s an understatement: a jealous me…
so i’ve determined the word just doesn’t apply…
i use brown eyes, green, in order to see,
i’ll keep an emerald-tint ‘til i die…
but it isn’t that he’s got her right now;
it’s that they’re more connected that we are,
or were; it’s that i can’t figure out how,
she without me’s not made a jealous her;
us not what we’ve been’s not drawn her ire,
‘specially when this comsumes me like fire…”

sonnet 124

“my heart inspires words of true romance,
in everything i write depicting love…
what i pen tends to take a passionate stance;
for all of those i have tender thoughts of…
but i’m afraid now my thoughts are of you,
and what i may write about how i feel;
i find myself unsure of what to do;
only sure that the feelings i have are real,
and true; with emotions that show i dote…
there’s a fear in knowing they inundate…
what would happen if i choose to devote,
a line to you to diminish their weight?
or a few lines more; will they prove to be,
the definition of relief for me?”

sonnet 125

“i’ve found a certain thing to be true…
only recently discovered by me…
in life when you’re given a chance to do;
do that thing and do it passionately…
once upon a time a girl at my side,
had moved in closer prepared to be kissed…
but it was too soon, my brain did decide,
thus, an opportuntity that was missed…
“there’ll be a time”, had been my notion;
“we’ll share a moment exactly the same”
we’ve not; we’ve lost the feeling, emotion…
for that i only have myself to blame…
and so i’ve learned not to deny an act;
my thoughts of loss have a greater impact…”

sonnet 126

“i just came across a hand-written note…
that was sent to me a long time ago…
every word in it: a passionate quote…
the subject: the things she felt i should know…
in the first line penned she professed her love,
‘cause the feelings between us did tether…
in the next, she expressed what she thought of;
a future of she and i together…
the last line ended with “…love you always”;
that had been something she tended to write…
it was something believed in prior days;
when we felt loving each other was right…
now, they’re just lines from a dusty letter;
a distant past when we had been better…”

sonnet 127

“i write about love ‘cause i believe in it…
even at times love hasn’t been in me…
thus, sometimes i feel i’m a hypocrite…
for being less truthful than i should be…
i often think love’s abandoned my heart;
still i pen that it is my constant guide…
this day, despite knowing it did depart;
despite sensing an emptiness inside…
maybe i should scribe that i’ve got no right,
to offer the world new lines about love…
so there won’t be insincere words to cite,
for those, to those, they have loving thoughts of;
and then use both hands; as if to applaud…
i retire my hand; i’ve been a fraud…”

sonnet 128

“it’s while thinking of us sharing some time,
i notice the sweat forming on my palm…
i precipitate; but only when i’m…
nervous, though i try to display a calm;
but i’m failing, as i can clearly see,
in the beads now dripping from my forehead…
rarely have i been a more anxious me,
when i’m normally confident instead…
it’s the thought of finally holding you,
close enough to feel your heart beat with mine…
has become an idea that threatens to,
surpass the beauty of any penned line…
i’ve written about it and those words failed;
i assume in comparison they paled…”

sonnet 129

“this life is fleeting, or so i’ve been told;
though that was a message i didn’t need…
i plan on dying before i get old,
preferably without having to bleed…
i’ll meet my end with a head full of black;
dead; with the carpet matching the drapes…
from something bad: a stroke, a heart attack,
hopefully sleep, as my last breath escapes…
or i could die as earlier stated:
“fatal orgasm while being inside”…
to find in her, having penetrated,
my own heaven when both legs are spread wide…
knowing i’m dying a little each day;
i need a woman soon to pass that way…”

sonnet 130

“i don’t wish when i gaze upon a star,
though there is something that i desire…
it’s merely wanting to know where you are,
and what getting you here would require…
‘cause there isn’t anything i wouldn’t do…
to have you where i am this lonely night…
since staring at stars ‘stead of loving you,
has been deemed an inevitable plight…
despite shining with a certain magic,
there lies an air of misfortune ‘round each…
thus, i perceive evenings to be tragic;
they’re times your hand isn’t within my reach…
so no i don’t wish, and simply because,
wishes can’t grant a love that never was…”