at the bottom of a bottle
knee-deep in long green grass in summer
beneath a blanket of stars
amidst a warm breeze
with you between my legs
close to ecstasy
over the moon
retreat to candlelight
enveloped in soft music
gliding upon your breath
on a cloud of happiness
“When I’m on stage, whether I’m making the audience laugh, or scream, or shake their heads in disbelief, I feel happy. When I’m on stage with you doing all these things, I feel content.
“When I’m up there performing magic for their pleasure, I feel elated; I experience their reactions and I am one with them. When you are with me up there beneath the lights, my love, I am one with the universe. I am home.”
~ Stephen Dagmar: The Great Dagmaru
An Outtake from the novel The Great Dagmaru, Book 1: The Magician’s Curse
To be released in 2017
She accuses me all the time of being moody. I’ll show her.
The mood is set. The candles are lit around the steaming, lavender-scented bath, the wine is poured, and the dinner is warming, ready for when she gets out. I’m already in the bath waiting for her to come ho…
There she is! I hear her key in the door! And… who’s she talking to? She brought her good-looking boss home again?
She thought I was moody before! I’ll show her!
you look at me as though you would drink my blood
slice my skin with a pointed nail
“oh, if you only knew
what i could do to you right now,” you say,
then you eat me alive
my veins drip red wine
you suck the life from my pores
and drunk on the torture of love
“Here we are again.”
Yep, here we are again.
“What do you want to do?”
I dunno. The world is our oyster.
“We can do anything we want?”
Anything at all.
“Can we unbury you so you can hold my hand one more time?”
No. We can’t do that.
“I miss you.”
I miss you too, my love.
If I could put all the things I treasure into a chest,
I would put in coffee for my mornings,
and a notebook for writing, with lots of really nice pens.
I’d include books for reading
and a comfortable chair and a fire to sit beside
(my chest will be fireproof, don’t worry).
I’d have all the food I could possibly want–
enough to satisfy every craving,
but I’d have extra chocolate, for every occasion.
I’d throw in the dog for someone to cuddle
and the best pillow ever, so I’d always have a good night’s sleep.
But most of all I’d have to make sure I had one special item in my chest,
and that would be you.
Don’t eat my chocolate.
let’s slap together a wall
build it out of pancakes
with sweet slippery syrup to hold it up
construct it out of love
and slurp it down
when we can’t keep our hands off each other
ah why build it anyway?
let’s go to bed hungry
and wake up full
“Look! You’ve scorched the milk, Norman.”
“I’m sorry, Harriet my love. I don’t know what’s come over me today.”
“Do you think it’s got something to do with …you know?”
“It might, my love.”
“Oh, Norman. We did have a laugh though.”
“Hehe. Yes, yes we did.”
“Well then. What are we going to do with all this scorched milk?”
“Harriet, my love, why don’t you just pour it in the cat’s bowl? Give him a treat.”
“I s’pose I could, at that. We’ve had ours. Do you have any more of those pills left?”
“Harriet! You’re not thinking about that now, are you?”
“Why not? Let’s go scorch the sheets.”
“All right, then.”
(Part two: Creamy too – 100 words)
“Hey man, long time no see! What’s new with you?”
“Oh, you know. Finished college. I’m engaged.”
“Right on. Who’re you marrying?”
“Remember that ‘creamy’ chick?”
“No! So she didn’t impale you after all?”
“Oh yeah, she did. But after that she agreed to swap her collection of stuffed heads for a trailer.”
“So now you’re…”
(For Joey. 🙂 )
there’s something purely distinct
about fire, isn’t there?
how it silkenly licks and caresses
its victim until
it no longer exists as it was
but it succumbs so gently
like a lover accepting
her very last kiss
unable to bring to memory
the one before
This poem was written in Stream of Consciousness. Click the link to join in the prompt, which this week is “mem”: https://lindaghill.com/2016/11/11/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-nov-1216/
It was also prompted by the Daily Post. The word of the day, Flames.