Human Treasure

Lonely hour with no rest Dreaming of your arms Tightly wrapped around my breasts. Faceless hero, conqueror of my heart, Cherisher of my soul, You stand there in the dark, Unaware that I exist. Advertisements

Destinées contrariées*

Intoxicated by the proximity Of their waltzing bodies Dancing without ever touching. Under the spell of her scent…  He is transported…

Mots d’amour*

Tears are running down my cheeks as I write this poem. (…) I realize that everything I am writing, I have said to you already But never enough, never that way.

Vice Versa

Strengthened by time, their bond will resist. Nothing will waver his confidence, He knows she expects the best from him… …and vice versa.

The Art of Poetry (II)

Poetic worlds inspire. Wise words that sing to you like you have known their melody all along. Words so simple and direct that they resonate at your core instantly, their message imprinted at the back of your mind for days and days to come.

The Art of Poetry (I)

Her words draw upon our imagination and build connections with our own experiences. She views nature and the world around her as a companion, a mirror in which she sees her own aspirations.


Walking up the river stream, water gently splashes on my limbs.   With a light pep in the steps I hum and turn around, encouraged –   I hear you laugh and whistle along.   I smile.   To you I feel connected. 

A Song of Sand and Water

No matter what I do My mind keeps going back to you Make me dance in the blaze of that bonfire Make me twirl, whirl under the light of stars


When I think of you My heart flutters Beats unexpected rhythms   My phone beeps It is you Cheeks fire up   Heart burns When I read Even the simplest words   You affect me In ways I did not expect Surprise me   At every turn


Sparks fly across the room ricocheting words jumping from my mouth   to his and back. Each thought shared, more intimate, more eager than the last.   Then out of their depth, his eyes come into focus. He stares into mine.

Tapping Shadows

“The storm is performing an ever-evolving rendering, A natural lullaby that entices me Away from a land of dreams. Immovably, ever so gently, I break free from slumber”

The Fever

She stepped onto the train, and readily began the process of unwrapping herself. *** Bags, down. Coat, unbuttoned, unzipped. Gracefully, she slips out of it. Scarf, untied, unrolled… …Unleashing her long mane of curly, dark blonde hair.