Author: Pontvert

The coffee is hot,
and there is a sensualness,
with its smooth blackness.

Gentle the kisses,
that feels its texture and taste,
that fires a passion.

I woke at seven,
the sun floods through the windows,
and it’s a new day.

The clouds drifting by,
give a sense of wanderlust,
tugging at my soul.

I’m feeling tired,
and drowsiness takes over,
and closing of eyes.

Time has slept away,
a minute, or more, yes more,
but i am not sure.

The sound of rain fall,
in the summer time, is best;
raining cats and dogs.

Thunder clouds above,
and the sound of it rolls out,
and grumbles in rain.

Tidying things up,
taking them out, putting them back,
that is good for now.

I’m craving a break,
something away from the norm,
and I hope it’s far.

The day rumbles on,
and meetings, fleeting meetings,
and those hurried notes.

I am trying hard,
to do all i want to do,
and do get some done.

The is falling now,
it’s sounding lovely, peaceful,
and its cool outside.

I am an eagle,
and soar in poetic flight,
hunting down my prey.

From the heights I’ll swoop,
silently but fast, I’ll grab,
the helpless last rhyme.

I am a mountain,
standing tall with rocky words,
that can tumble down.

Down the mountain side,
poems fall in broken verse,
rhymes lost in the wind.

I am a taylor,
I sow words into poems,
and some nice word webs.

I am a spider,
and my web is spread out wide,
to catch puns and rhymes.