Life in the later years for most men involves this.
His wife had gone off to bed hours before.
Now he navigates through the dark bedroom,
undresses as he hears his wife’s soft snore,
and, approaching the bed, smells her perfume.
As he’s done thousands of times in the past,
he lifts the covers, slides into the bed.
Her body’s warmth greets him, in sharp contrast
to the coldness the sheets offer instead.
He reaches over, gently pats her behind.
She moves over more but fails to awake.
Her scent, her warmth brings memories to mind
of lovemaking in which they did partake.
For just a mere moment, his mind is filled
with desire for pleasure between her thighs,
but such thoughts are all rather quickly killed
by old age’s truth. Turning over, he sighs.
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.
David Hightower’s lyrically expansive meditation on the whims of fate and the unpredictability of the human condition fill the pages of THE HANGING MAN DREAMS with thrilling music and mesmerizing imagery. Hightower’s richly infused voice echoes the e
This book represents a thirty-day period of my poetry journal. Each poem addresses
the dominant thoughts occupying my mind during the early morning hours of a given
day.