Prelude to a Kiss

Poetry/Prelude to a Kiss

His hands ran down to the small of her back, it was his favorite spot on her body and she could feel his fingers move slowly as he traced the length of her spine before firmly grasping her small waist in his strong hands. He knew her well and she began to shiver despite the summer heat that covered her body in small beads of dewy sweat. 

She pushed his arms above his head, her hands ran from his shoulders up his muscular arms. She held tight onto his tattooed forearms as she leaned over him, so that her long soft hair ensconced them in their own private world. She moved her lips so close to his that he could feel their heat long before they ever touched. Her breath left her in waves and as she exhaled he took her sweet moist breath as his own and they shared life as if they were one.

Then she kissed him, not for the first time, but with a practiced hunger that only came from years of shared desire. Her hands ran through his hair and pulled his head toward her own, her lips slowly worked their way to his ear, her voice now came raspy and ragged as she spoke, and in the late night she gave into him and finally whispered the word that kept him alive,,,,,Yes

R. Sweat

Poetry/ Clouds are Building Fast in Charleston, Rain is on the Way

Clouds are building fast in Charleston, Rain is on the Way.
From days of blue, we knew too few, now, Rain is on the Way.
Once peaceful shores, From days of yore, call, Rain is on the Way.
Now darkened skies, bring mournful eyes because, Rain is on the Way. 

As all look to Heaven as the cold wet winter falls.
From Isle of Palms to Folly Beach, to the Holy Cities halls.
Just one more rain, just one more drop, till Summer comes to call.
April rains and Summer squalls leave sunshine for us all.

Behind those clouds that fog all lies, as, Rain is on the Way.
We'll see tomorrow through young eyes, as, Rain is on the Way.
And even if no water falls, and soon we see light, still Rain is on the Way
Its natures way and natures call, that brings the morning light, So once more will I say.

Clouds are building fast in Charleston, Rain is on the way.

R. Sweat
(Thanks to Donnie Smith For the Line)

Christmas Eve

     Well here we are on the verge of another Christmas Eve. As we look back on another year that seemed to once again be over almost before it had a chance to begin. Its easy to look to the future and just let the past slide from our thoughts. Another in a long line of chapters that make up the universal book of history that is our lives story.
     On moments like this, It's important for us to stop for just a few minutes and take this time that we hold so precious and use it to file away the reflections of all the things, both good and bad that we have had the good fortune to have witnessed as we continued our journey toward destiny over these last few months. 
      Stop just long enough on life's highway and make a memory of how we got here, of those we were blessed to have met, and especially of those whose journey ended all too soon.
      Regardless of our religion,our politics or our personal beliefs, remember that for the past 12 months, despite all our differences, we all share the same wishes and dreams of love and hope and health for our family and friends. 
     Merry Christmas to all my Facebook friends and family. My wish for all of you is that maybe, just maybe with a little luck . We will all be blessed to find ourselves right here once again, next Christmas Eve. With the same opportunity to stop and make a memory out of what I know for you will be a happy and joyous 2013.

R. Sweat

Poetry/ Rainy Grey Days

I walked out the door this morning to the smell of cord wood burning off in the distance. Like a memory it lingered, the only physical reminder of all that was, just a night before. 

The cool damp air held the scent, bringing back a rush of memories from bonfires past and time not wasted on friends. Their names and their faces forever young and always with me.

Somewhere, out on the edge of perception a train rumbles toward its destiny with time, the rhythmic thumps providing a baseline to my now small town life. I feel it move away, leaving me in its past.

If the future is for the young, and the past given to the old, then surely Rainy Grey Days must be reserved for those who dream one last time, of what might have been, what should have been or what could be once again.

R.Sweat

Poetry: An Angels Shadow

   Its been long since I  lived in the light
Ever more content to be in the comfort of her gentle shadow
I inhabit a world made whole and home by the depth of an Angels  love.
Her breath fills me with life, as my heart waits to beat at her command
Allowed to be, only by a grace born of a creature not meant for this earth
   I move around her on the darkened edge of a world lit in brilliance by her smile
Her spirit moves, and I move, wanting, longing, always to keep her touch
Heavenly light envelops and holds her form as my eyes strain to see and I am jealous
She passes and I feel the moonless tide shift and with it she turns her grace on me
I see the light of long darkened stars in her eyes as she takes me by the hand
Once again I walk in her light and see with eyes opened wide with hope
    She whispers my name, and I follow, she kisses my lips and I am hers

Moon Walker

    The shrimp boat slid into Charleston harbor. Its distinctive white hull outlined against the orange red of a setting Carolina sun. The only sound came from the squawking feathered multitude of gulls that swirled and dived for their dinner. It was a sight he loved no matter how many times it was repeated.
     From the Battery he walked past the old ghost of mansions that fronted the harbor and East Bay. Greek revival palaces built for the shippers and growers of Rice,Indigo and Sea Island Cotton. Through their gates of wrought iron adorned with pineapples and rope he could see a joggling board waiting and hoping for just one more young couple to come courting.
      Walking  over the cobblestones that had come from all over the world as ballast in the hold of merchant ships from centuries past. The well worn stones of every color had finally found a home. Much like all the people who now call this port city their own they are now and forever a part of the fabric of the old town.
       Darkness came and with it the city began to whisper, calling to one and all to embrace its seductive sirens call. The musk of her age mixed with the sweet scent of magnolias and gardenias from her hidden gardens and the aroma of 5 star restaurants that wafted in the breeze as he made his way down old Market street.
      A horse and carriage moved down Meeting street with the ease of a scene that had been repeated for 300 years. The guide gossiped of revolution ,hurricanes, and pirates,but  he knew that if they rode all night. He still couldn't tell Charles Townes story. The first chapter would have to do tonight. Pointing out earthquake rods on  buildings, he tipped his hat as he passed, before making his way toward White Point Gardens. They faded away into the night until all that was left behind was the sound of hoofs taping out a secret love song from the past.
      Passing under oak trees that had greeted the first settlers, he came to his church just as a wedding was ending. The strains of organ music lilted away to be replaced by the sound of joy and love and forever that filled the night. He slipped through the crowd almost unnoticed as rice filled the air and turned to walk through a small side gate and then behind the large white stone walls.
      The night was almost over now. Salty sea air blew in from the harbor and it passed right through him as it cooled the fresh cut grass where he laid. Silence had returned to his world. From above a crescent moon looked back down on him for the last time this month and he was already missing it. It would be back and then so would he. As he closed his eyes and began to fade away into the first rays of morning light he was already planning his next walk around the old town.


                            R. Sweat
   
     
 

Poetry/ Last Look Back

     He thought for a moment. How long have I been here? As the last rays of the failing Carolina sun warmed the back of his neck and cast long shadows that streaked across the sand dunes in a race toward the darkening waters of the Atlantic,it seemed that all time had stopped
     He looked on as two children played in a tidal pool. Their bleached white hair once short in the spring now caressed shoulders tanned nut brown by the long days of a seemingly endless beach vacation. From afar a mothers voice says its time to go. But its only her promise of a return one day that finally tears them away from their kingdom of sandcastles and seashells.They were now children of the beach for evermore and they left  behind not only their fortress in the sand, but also a small piece of themselves and their childhood for mother nature to reclaim on the next high tide. Blending their souls with all those who have come before into the  tide line of life that stretched from here to eternity.
     He missed the beach umbrellas that had once lined the shore like so many colorful Christmas ornaments stretching as far as the eye could see. Havens for families that had used them to escape the relentless rays of sun, life itself seemed to began and end in their embrace Now cleaned and packed away they left no trace of the world as it had been. Only a landscape of ghosts and memories drifted in the September air,as the last hallow sounds of laughter faded on the cooling breeze, leaving only the  rhythmic tide to fill the void.
      He felt the presence of his father and grandfather move beside him and as they all stood looking out toward the horizon,the days last light had left the world of Summer behind in blends of orange and scarlet and colors not yet named by man. Soon a crescent moon would ascend to crown the Lowcountry sky. A God sent tierra brought down by angels and left as a gift for all  of us blessed to call this land our own. It was then he knew. How long had he been there,,,,,forever.
   
    From the North  the wind began to whisper. making the salty sand stir, gently at first it spoke the words that no one wants to hear,,,,,Summer is over.

                R. Sweat