Thursday, 31 May 2018

how do u read?

do read the words and read them true,
give them the meaning that is due,
don't try and change what be written,
by personal interpretation, suiting, being smitten.

by making another's writing, yours,  personal and different,
the text of the author becomes ambivalent,
and lost be the true meaning of word, the trend,
thus, missing the beauty and honesty penned.

if lustful and wanton and desirous the text,
being prudish and judgemental putting ones thoughts to test,
missing the truth of feelings quite natural
shying away and pointing fingers habitual.

then, comes the part confessions expressed,
deceptions , lies and truths addressed,
the courage to look in the mirror and see
words read, the reason their impact , what could it be?

if joyous and happy and light be the tone,
no matter ones life or space, no desire to moan,
why then find the words heavy and monotonous,
irritating , a reminder that one has forgotten what it means to be an optimist?

if sad the sharing in heartbreak, the read,
every word in sorrow does bleed,
to grunt and scoff, at the words to sneer
finding such an exposure stupid and queer?

the penned word ,most powerful and telling it be,
allowing others to face fears ,new truths to see,
an open mind a spirit does mature,
a  sense of balance and understanding will know to procure .


chains of habit..a rut excusable?

 "The chains of habit are too weak to be felt until they are too strong to be broken."
Samuel Johnson

When the fear of failure, trepidation in moving toward change starts to thaw ones conviction, purpose and reserves of energy, belief and faith , then sets in habit...behavioural patterns repetitive , safe, in an environment familiar and comfortable. 
The idea of the unknown too challenging to consider. 
A laziness to apply oneself , self contentment and satisfaction taking second seat, preferring a 'rut' known. 
When monotonous mediocrity of ones life all of a sudden becomes too challenging , a realisation that ones life is being wasted away yet, the pull of the known seems safer than the unknown that call of promised fruitful new beginnings, like anything in life, requiring that new found energy to apply oneself paving a new pathway, reaching for a rediscovery of the 'self' ...then begins the struggle of standing at crossroads...choices to be made, considered...applied.

An analysis of what is required to start on a journey new. A demand for commitment, conviction and purpose, faith in the new found call...all of a sudden grasping the enormity of the task at hand. 

And once again, to slump back into 'habit' promising oneself baby steps toward change, excuses acceptable as to why things may not be as bad as one imagines.. 'the right time and place'....

Courage. Is it about courage? Is it about truth? Is it about acceptance? Or, is it that as humans, we complicate our lives with the choices we make and then don't know how to extricate ourselves out of the 'shit' we have created? Then again, are we simply too lazy to reach for possibilities new, ignoring the flame that burns in each one of us, egging us forward on a journey rewarding no matter how big or small. 


A rut invented and propagated by most humans and excused by the fear we feel when asked to step forward courageously and map a path new. 

Excusable? RB.

Monday, 28 May 2018

by my window walk

 what if, perchance, u should by my window walk
would u stop and engage in light banter, light talk?
would it be ok that off-guard i be caught
would our conversation with pulsating energy be fraught?
disrobed i would be
for, unexpected u see
would your stopping to chat
and all that...
i might giggle and act all coy
yet my nakedness not hide, allow it with your sanity to toy
and, when your gaze no longer u divert
then my hold on our conversation i shall assert.
first, a hint i shall drop
how good of u, it was to stop
what a wonderful chat so far it has been
to invite u inside, for rude i would hate to seem.
the door i would open and stand behind
a tease for much u would have already seen, imprinted on your mind ,
the rest that u missed to be revealed as it shuts
to embrace u passionately, a kiss that all formalities ignores and cuts.
a lighter conversation would continue there-after
much sexiness and intimate indulgence filled with naughty laughter
a new path of conversation we would further forge
and without many fineties on each others company gorge.


an awakening

 the sweet taste of expectation, an awakening cupped 
for the throb of wanton lust aches hard and needy.
a breath held as the mind 'woozes' from lack of oxygen yet,
in its lightheaded flight knows the truth of pleasures erotic.
there be no other desire than to feel the pulsating pang of wishes intimate,
the desire of a tender touch...a touch that knows to find
and caress...
it kisses with fingertips searching, gently locating and targeting...
a whimper does escape as a gush of bliss softens any resistance.
a blend of reserved passion,
when crests high no longer can be climbed
and demand...!... release.

a nectar dripping with honeyed sweetness of satiation...RB.



it was time

 To stand in the shadows and look in. Watching the reaction. Watching the obvious nervousness in the fumble of his hands. She was quite determined to enjoy herself, that desire to observe before there would be any sort of interaction between them.
She asked him to look her way, knowing the light would cast a perfect shadow of the outline of her nakedness. 
Nothing more was required. 
It was enough, suggestive, alluring, expressive and a lot left to his imagination.
Her like of soft light had him shrouded in a hazy hue from the lamp on the side table. Everything around them was rich and vibrant... warm colour. The ambiance perfect, allowing oneself to believe nothing else existed except that moment in time.
She had said he had to leave it all behind, if he wished to experience a healing seduction of an erratic, challenged and busy mind. 
She said it would be all about touch, taste...smell...the focus would be to know to relax within ones self and welcome  the pleasure that would not only be erotically sensual but, a perfect release of built up tensions plaguing every part of his body and mind.
And, when totally naked, she stepped toward him, bidding him to close his eyes and placed a blindfold...'This is to make you allow me to guide u without the possibility of looking. This is to give me your trust,no matter your uncertainty.'
His eyesight taken away gave it a dimension different, more intense, seeking all his senses to come into play and guide him as he stood at the mercy of her direction. 
He was struggling to remember where he had been standing and from which side she had approached him, feeling a little unnerved.
'Don't worry,' she said. 
A whisper from behind him, feeling her hands travelling the length of his back, coming to rest on his hips, and then the gentle press of her length against him.
' I am here.'
That small action not only exploded in his head a feeling so erotic but, had him realise everything beyond the doors of her little space, at that moment, was another reality he had come to run away from.
He let go and focused on the welling of intense pleasure in the pit of his tummy and deep within his groin and penis.

It was time to surrender.


Saturday, 26 May 2018

if i could...i would
(another piece to listen to and read thoughts on wing...inspired by the notes...)

if i could i would...
if i could.
i would make u mine
i would steal your every thought and envelope them in thoughts of mine
you would ride on the crests of eternal possibilities
u would know to see all that is
through eyes
optimistic with passion for all
things sensual and alive.

if i could.
if i could i would introduce u to a world hidden,
a gift to those who know to capture it in the most silent of moments
to recognise it on the face of a loved one
to smell its bewitching scent 
hallucinations of another truth
a truth born to life when a mother gives birth.

if i could.
if i could i would kiss u till u stop breathing
my breath i would give u to live eternal
a life rich making love...allowing mind, body and soul
to marry in a union complete.

if i could.
if i could i would not only teach u to hear a laugh
i would teach u to live the laugh
a joyous sound when love knows to conquer all uncertainties as our bodies melt into one.

if i could
if i could i would make u mine.


believe...let go

(the piece of music that played as my mind found refuge in its beauty...and...thus...the piece below) play it while u will give u a glimpse into my imagination...with sound.

 she had set his mind free, 

taking it down a path of slow discovery, 

the courage to believe and entrust himself to her coaxing.

asking him to undress in front of her, allow her to watch and step in to assist with discarding his garments that seemed to be a safe haven from her eyes. 

feeling his hesitancy she drew him in... close... and whispered... how wonderfully appealing he his desire to let go took her breath away, making the pulsating need to show him who he was, throb more urgent.

and once totally naked, 

in his glory she pushed him down on the bed

...running her hands up his legs...crawling between their spread...and then, bent her head and began to run her parted mouth , from his left foot up his leg...the sensation of her warm breath burnt and singed his core where he felt so ravenously hungry , that need to admit and embrace the depth of all things burning sensual and erotic within him.

the softness of her mouth as it found its way in the crease of his leg and buttock, 

the gentle bite into his flesh, 

a flick of a tongue across his scrotum

...his hard shaft firm in her hands...

she lifted her head....



a serenity of passion and sexiness...he felt himself throb and throb and throb...expanding in her grip

...her touch welcomed him into her spirit, that of a woman who knew her man, 

 as she looked deep into his eyes

...he drowned...

he welcomed her into his soul...RB.

naked hips

 the silence found in thoughts travelling,
a distance. A serenity in self a moment luscious 
rewarding in what was to follow.
the approach of a place his closeness brushing round buttocks...near.
hands travelling...placed on naked hips... a whisper of breath...warm...
to kiss the nape of a
to bite ...softly ...the curve of an exposed shoulder....
to stand cup...breasts soft,
nipples tweak ever so ...gently.
an arm...circling a waist...pushing harder...closer...into curves... response.
to breath
once a lusty muskiness of sensual wishes.


a glimpse

a glimpse ..RB.

the art of conversing

This week did reveal many a jewel, food for thought, challenging and informative conversations leading to the following observation...

 ...when one sits down to read, no matter what it may be...does one approach a read with a preconceived notion and understanding of the topic at hand or, does one indulge with a free mind?

If, for example, one is having an issue with another and then receives an email from such a person...does ones heart become erratic , instilling a foreboding of words unpleasant, expecting a demand of some sort on ones person...thus having no desire to open the mail?
Would it be fair to presume such? Could it, maybe, not be, a reaching out of some sort to address the matter at hand... a solution going forward?
And then, when words read, does one read with bias, understanding and analysing the written in a context wrong?...leading to misunderstandings and unhappiness?
Is it difficult, is it possible,  to interpret the written word without adding a personal spin to it? 

The importance of, sincere and direct. Presuming another may know where one is coming from can lead to many misinterpretations and unfortunate results.
The courage to say it as it is , to share ones concerns, fear of a positive light.

The ability to return to the art of conversing, eye to eye, sharing in the presence of another ones words ...the meaning of the words spoken seen in the speakers eyes, gestures, posture, demeanour...knowing to understand the context of the conversation, ask questions when it may not make sense...allow the flow of words to inform, assist and help understand each other better.

Or, has society become so marred and scarred with social expectations which make no sense anymore...getting lost  in a confusion of rules and boundaries...floundering, forgetting the basics required for contentment and satisfaction..turning to media and platforms electronic and impersonal...believing the eternal spew of too much information shared...a constant anomaly presumed fact as tried and tested.
Social media...the sharing of personal and intimate fears and joys and concerns and desires...a scary place to indulge could it ever be the correct platform for the development of social skills of any sort... ?...RB.


Friday, 25 May 2018

growing up

 A wonderful reminder as the weekend kicks in!
Never to forget to enjoy each day with an attitude sincere!

Thursday, 24 May 2018

invitations obstinate

how a bed knows to be perfect for much more than just serene sleep
how it knows to stir memories, longings deep.
a scent  of possibilities intimate and passionate
refusing to subside for the invitations be obstinate.

play nicely

if like a cat i knew to purr, lazily upon the bed...
to stretch.
my limbs, unhurried i would pose, to ensure your gaze...i would catch.
a growl...soft...gently warning...of my intent
to bite u slightly, should u not...
play nicely.

a canvas untouched

 Once again, an idea tugged at her thoughts. It was time to experiment and see what the outcome may be. It was time to give him a shout and ask him to critique what he saw. 
Instead of viewing the end product, she would ask him to be a part of her canvas...that pristine white background, untouched...and watch what may come of it as her brush swept, darted , lined, mixed and contoured colour giving rise to a theme envisaged in thought.
Her fancy rested on sailing yachts, colourful masts, waters still, reflecting the array of vibrant cloth waiting to be carried by an elusive wind.
She could imagine the bodies of yachtsmen laying languid on the floor of their sail boats , falling prey to laziness as the heat of the sun warmed them into slumber...the race forgotten.
In all the time he watched, not once did he interfere with her process...not once did he comment...he didn't want to. It was perfect...the whole scenario...the artist and her work.
His pleasure lay in watching the freedom of her brush strokes, at times a slight impatience when colour and shape did not gel with what the image may have been in her head.
And most of all...he loved the way she dressed for their sessions...he knew it was for him...near naked and uninhibited in her display...she was a wonderful canvass to feast his eyes on. 
The celebration and affirmation of her work was enjoyed in the same room where the framed piece was hung.  RB.

Wednesday, 23 May 2018

once upon a time...their paths crossed

The mind had gone on a journey, still lost in words read. Very aware that he would be wandering what she was up to...and thus to dial him via skype
She didn't want to speak to him...she wanted him to 'look in'. It was late...he would be readying himself for bed...the perfect time to have him watch...imagine...remember...and maybe...indulge in 'personal' play.
She turned the camera at such an angle, at a distance, looking 'up' at her....the idea being a suggestive invite of potential glimpses of much that was hidden from his gaze by a fabric sheer ...a glitter here and there, when the ray of a lamp be caught.
She made sure the light was such to illuminate the tease that came spontaneous...he knew to bring it out in her.......casting the right shadows at times when too much may be exposed.
It was the allure of what would be possible once he returned. And, as she started her suggestive reveal, so began the start of their story... 

Once upon a time there was a man who became inspired by a chance meeting. Inspired and egged into a world so different to all he had ever known...a brazen courage discovered in self to search and find much he had been scared to confront or even question....Once upon a time there was a woman who knew about the magic of erotic seduction and wished to enchant another who would know to get lost and surrender to her offerings...

Once upon a time...their paths crossed...RB.

for my alice

 thank u for this piece dearest contributor...

For my Alice:

How relaxed and restful you do look
Enthroned there amongst your many books

Your two feet up and easily resting
A shoulder bare, white, suggesting

The stockinged limbs, so softly sheer
A thigh, (or two?), discreetly bare

The brightly shining long blonde hair
A hand to hold, to please, to care

You are a marvellous vision that I have glimpsed
Truly, my own beloved biblio-nymph



exasperating...! meaning to every pose captured...a hint of what could be...
...a whisper of intimacies ...

goading thoughts .


to plant the germinating seed

if before u a shelf of books u should find
how long would it take  to pick one and your thoughts bind
with pages of records of another's experiences and imaginings
making theirs, now yours, no longer strange happenings.

and in that choice would your world broaden
would your reality with new possibilities enliven
or would it be a safe choice of the same old same old
preferring the known , muffling your chance to be bold...

in the choice of a book considered a yawn and dreary
ones choice of neon bright characters contrary
a marriage of both...a world fantastical
merging the two...from the usual taking a sabbatical.

to broaden ones knowledge to read and learn
 to have no fear, a new path choose, to take a turn
misinformation, ignorance breeds fear of the unknown
rather to self realisation...the path be shown.
and thus, what be considered taboo and threatening
another possibility postulated, new understanding begetting
time for that long awaited magazine to put out for your read
time for new perspectives, time for debates, to plant a germinating seed.


lost for a while...

I found myself lost for a while, among books upon books upon books. A perfect escape from my words, my space, boundaries of my thoughts. 
A search beyond that which i so happily delve in when alone...all of a sudden...a need to find a new 'friend', one that would know to come alive between the covers of any book.
Which to indulge in? Which to pick up and begin to savour the words written , as if, only for me...for i was the only one in my sanctuary. 
And as each word took meaning, so began to disappear and dissipate that nag of daily challenges and responsibilities that had me fleeing , heart erratic, not wishing another minute to give acknowledgement and power to the drowning feeling of having to be very grown up and real. 
To those who have known to open up worlds of possibilities , bringing to life characters that have my blood rushing, my eyes eating words at such a pace wanting to turn the page prematurely...!... fearful of missing out what lies ahead...!...what joyous travels and discoveries i have partaken in! I fancy myself a detective at times, a fierce jungle cat, a bird of paradise, even one of Marvel's superheroes...there are no limits to what i can become...

Yet, when indulging in a read, no need to be anything else but that which i know to be...why not be dressed up for the occasion...what if in the loss of words another that knows to dabble in the magic and power of a written word, should enter my sanctuary and know to take the book from my hands and ask me to tell them what it was that has made my eyes alive with imagined scenes.

How joyously i would invite them in, my narration enigmatic and animated with much portrayed in hand gestures and energetic sitting and standing and again...sitting down...wishing to paint and bring to life every word read! was a wonderful while...lost in books. Journeys partaken and many left unfinished...waiting for my return.


Thursday, 17 May 2018

the intimacy of touch

 The intimacy of touch...ones own touch.
More telling than words could ever be...knowing to let ones fingertips taste
the pleasure of self.
Should another look in, what they would see, is the spontaneous uninhibited, unpretentious enjoyment of the most personal sort where there be no boundaries, no concern, shyness or hesitation as to the indulgence. To lather ones body when showering, to caress ones skin with nourishing body butter, to comb ones hair with long strokes from a soft bristled massage and stroke ones erogenous be able to enjoy the sight of such play in a mirror , to possess the comfort of allowing the other to witness such personal indulgent liberties.
An erotic, sexy, sensual close ones eyes to the world and lose oneself in images portrayed and created as ones fingers travel, linger, cup, stroke...the ability of fingertips to sense the texture of ones flesh...eating it up satiating the hungry need to surrender deeper, never familiar enough nor all knowing nor bored of indulging in self... always seeking more.

Now, take a seat and close your eyes or stand before a looking glass and indulge yourself in the art of personal touch, sensual
slow and most sincere.



what would it be that would know, to hold your gaze...
a motion slight?
a pose natural?
a display of limb...?
could it be a mood, captured in a motion, pose...limb displayed?
could it be...
 your love of sheer pantyhose...?...shared in the indulgent touch of a hand...
resting on a perfect the fit of silken thread.
how pantyhose do know to make a woman feel even more alluring than she knows to be.
how pantyhose make the slide of a hand that much smoother...a touch felt,
a tease intoxicating, erotic, a dimension different...knowing
there be nakedness beneath a thin, thin woven thread...
 nothing being hidden from sight, in fact...enhanced
be the shape and curve... 
it must be the package of a woman who wears her pantyhose
totally absorbed in the feel, touch and sight there-of.


Wednesday, 16 May 2018

the conundrum of a society confused

What is it that makes one careful and turn ones back and ignore so-called choices considered questionable and taboo by society as a whole? 
The foundation set by the majority who work themselves into a stupor trying to keep up with the Jones in possession, appearance and behaviour...yet, always falling short, for the foundation keeps on shifting reaching a stage of total confusion...a farce a lie a deception scared to be any different or true to self?
Could it be possible that being true to self is so devastating and derogatory that it would know to crumble break and destroy the very fibre of the unity of a home? Is the unity of a home based on deep sacrifices where the self knows not or cannot embark on a journey seeking contentment of a personal sort? Would it be considered selfish, uncaring of another?

It is strange that contentment and happiness and success is measured and based not in singular form but, in parties of two or more....the principle that no person was born to be alone. 
If that should hold true, does that mean that the natural progression of change in a humans life is boxed and bound eternal, having to adhere and stay loyal and faithful to a system that no longer works...leading to frustrations, fights, breakdowns...the very fibre of goodness , that which society hypocritically advertises, becoming nothing more than a tortuous existence leading to so called deviant and unacceptable behaviour.
The fear of self and being held accountable...the need to adhere to a social order, feel part of a what price..?...the price of self sacrifice the better of two evils for it holds the 'whole' complete and able to function, keeping the cogs of a new world order churning?
A principle that does not hold dear to a mind that seeks a truth evasive...a truth that is non-existent...?..the conundrum humans were born order to survive, it seems we have to destroy the good, over and over...trying to learn that perfect formula of happiness, contentment and progression of the most unselfish kind.
Could that ever be...for the minute there is more than one to consider, so begins the sacrifice of one or more persons desires, happiness and is our reality, it is our fate it is just how things that true...???...RB

Tuesday, 15 May 2018

fear of the unknown

How often one may miss the positive, all because of the fear of the unknown. To inform oneself knows to reap rewards most unexpected...

'Welcome to my little space,' she said. 

'...come, take a flight of fancy where everything is possible, where most thing are probable.

a flight of fancy , a wondrous journey, a discovery where the heart will know to race, for the novelties discovered will have their own pace.

the ups and downs, the round-abouts, the nooks and crannies all in one, an anticipated nervousness of what may lay ahead, what be the fun.

we shall find a path, on it step but, as it stretches ahead, naughty we shall be, a sidestep take, uncharted grounds exploit, for much wondrous a thing we will definitely see.

adventurers, explorers my little space demands a mind, that knows to acknowledge that in the unknown many a time, a rare find.

no need to waste , to hesitate and fear the unknown,  cowering shivering and in ones haste... to run away, forget the fruits of a willing mind to taste.

why is it that the unknown knows to shake and break, in its wake away to take, the making of content and satisfaction to break?

what is it that grips the heart, the body, mind and soul, ones spirit break and take control..?'

'Welcome to my little space,' she said. 

'...come, take a flight of fancy where everything is possible, where most things are probable.'


Comfy and sexy

Me and my "bridget jones" pair....