Dennis Cardiff ~ Poetry & Prose

Lioness in Heat

13 Friday Mar 2020

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free, frustration, lions, lust, mating, mystery, nature, romance

I heard her
from a ways off,
the distinctive mewl
of a lioness in heat.
I licked my paws.

She’ll find me.

She found me,
paraded around
with her tail in the air,
leaving her scent
on the breeze.

I was interested,
but didn’t show it.
She began licking me
I licked her back —
we licked a lot.

She crouched,
belly to the ground,
tail to one side.
I bit her neck
then mounted.

This continued
for five exhausting days.
Eventually, she wandered off.
Perhaps, we’ll meet again,
or not.

~~~

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Silk Ropes

08 Sunday Mar 2020

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BDSM, bondage, domination, masochism, pain, punishment, sex games, spanked, submission, tied, whipped

Black silk ropes
tied to bedposts
secure her white wrists
and ankles.

Voluntarily
under his control
she wants, needs
to be dominated,
spanked, whipped
by the one man
to whom
she will submit.

~~~

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There Are No Horses Anymore

24 Monday Feb 2020

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animals, compassion, despair, desperation, destiny, dreams, emotion, empathy, eternal, fantasy, fear, forever, free, imagination, lifetimes, longing, loving kindness, mystery, personal, philosophy, spiritual, unconditional love, universe

It’s like you’ve been reading Dostoevsky
and your mind is heavy,
so you go for a walk.
You haven’t eaten,
but instead of soup,
you order two glasses of beer.
You know how Rodion felt,
because you’re him.
You walk into the street
and a dark horse is being beaten,
but, that can’t be,
because there are no horses anymore —

that was only a dream;
only in the book.
You think you’re going mad,
but, it’s alright,
you don’t have to worry.
Someone has just closed the cover —
you’re tucked away, safe inside.
Everything is alright.

~~~

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Morning Star

17 Monday Feb 2020

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compassion, destiny, dreams, eternal, fantasy, imagination, lifetimes, love, mystery, romance, sighs

Morning Star, Evening Star
North guides the sailors
count us our blessings
long into the night

weave me a blanket
made out of moments
dreams of discovery
adventures now past

will me, be still me
arms be my cradle
comfort and kindness
within your caress

sing me forever
that place far away
close as a heartbeat
our home where we’ll stay

~~~

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Careful With That Axe, Eugene

13 Thursday Feb 2020

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Buddhism, Christianity, compassion, despair, desperation, emotion, empathy, loving kindness, mental health, music, mystery

Eugene had a mind of his own,
not, as some would say, a sound mind,
but his own mind, nevertheless.

“It’s awfully considerate of you
to think of me here.
And I’m most obliged to you
for making it clear
that I’m not here.”

Eugene was a great musician,
taking music to the limit;
his songs will always survive.
Eugene took drugs to the limit;
he’s now in Interstellar Overdrive.

When we observed him with an axe,
you may understand our concern.
Was he in danger, or were we?

Eugene had already left us in spirit,
but he wandered away that day
and was lost to us forever.

~~~

This poem is dedicated to the memory of “Syd Barrett (born Roger Keith Barrett; 6 January 1946 – 7 July 2006) who was an English singer, songwriter, guitarist and artist. He is most remembered as a founding member of band Pink Floyd, providing major musical and stylistic direction in their early work, although he left the group in 1968 amidst speculations of mental illness exacerbated by heavy drug use.”

Axe is also British slang for guitar. Pink Floyd’s use of the title Careful With That Axe, Eugene may refer to “Barrett’s behavior (which) became increasingly unpredictable, partly as a consequence of frequent experimentation with psychedelic drugs such as LSD. Many report having seen him on stage with the group, strumming on one chord through the entire concert, or not playing at all. At a show at The Fillmore West in San Francisco, during a performance of “Interstellar Overdrive”, Barrett slowly detuned his guitar. The audience seemed to enjoy such antics, unaware of the rest of the band’s consternation.” (Source: Wikipedia)

~~~

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unobserved

25 Saturday Jan 2020

Posted by DennisCardiff in Poetry

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dreams, erotic, fantasy, free, imagination, longing, mystery, nature, romance, sighs, spells

unobserved
i gaze upon you
lost in the world of a book.
i wonder which poet,
which author
holds your wrapt attention
to the exclusion
of all else.

Is it Burroughs?
Aristophanes?
or is it lighter reading,
a novel perhaps?
erotic historical romance?
i could ask you
but hesitate
to break their spell.

…

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borderlands

20 Monday Jan 2020

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Buddhism, Christianity, compassion, destiny, free, homeless, imagination, love, philosophy, psychology, romance

i live in the borderlands,
between reality and imagination,
just this side of fantasy.

reality is okay.
i visit there
to check my mail,
earn a few dollars,
pay some bills,
buy groceries.

reality is an okay place to visit
but, i wouldn’t want to live there.

i’m happiest in my mind
where I filter my thoughts
like an answering machine.
i delete the negative,
dwell on the positive.

people may see me walking alone.
they don’t see the beautiful woman
at my side
with her hand in mine.

i may be seen sitting at a table, alone.
nobody sees the delicate hand,
with the magic fingers,
sliding up my thigh.

or, the passionate kiss
being planted on my throat,
the fingers running through my hair.

where i work
people see me smile.
they think I enjoy my job.
they don’t know me.

…

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Fairies

06 Monday Jan 2020

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dreams, eternal, fairies, fantasy, folk tales, lifetimes, love, mystery, nature, romance, spirits

If you wander into the woods
stealthily peek behind the trees.
Fairies may be in hiding there;
they’ll vanish, quick as you please.

The fairies are a friendly folk,
at least, they may appear that way.
They’ll lure you with their fairy wiles;
siren like, they’ll lead you astray.

Timid, beautiful woodland nymphs
swathed in soft diaphanous gowns.
In subtle shades of nature’s hues
bright leafy greens and somber browns.

Whispers in the rustle of leaves
will lead you to their secret glade.
They’ll gently soothe away your cares.
Why would you need to be afraid?

Fairy maids will wine and dine you.
They’ll whisper that they love you so.
You’ll think that you’re in paradise.
They’ll never, ever let you go.

Weeks and months will pass unnoticed.
What seems a day may be a year.
The world outside continues on,
while you remain in limbo here.

Fairy mists will envelop you
so you can never see your way.
Memories are, but long lost dreams.
From Fairyland you cannot stray.

…

Image: http://ow.ly/U5zcU

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Fireplace

28 Saturday Dec 2019

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dreams, emotion, eternal, fantasy, forever, lifetimes, longing, love, personal, romance, sighs

I’ll put a fresh log in the fireplace
if you’ll pour us a glass of wine.
We’ll relax on overstuffed pillows,
smell the scent of burning pine.

Leave stress and hurry behind us.
It’s the time to let worries lie.
We’ll watch the constellations
appear in the darkening sky.

Magic, your eyes by the firelight.
Warm, your smile as you hold my hand.
Tell me your grandmother’s stories
of a nearby but distant land.

We communicate in silence,
My reflection is in your eyes.
Soft and gentle, your fingers.
Delightful, the sound of your sighs.

Stories of us to remember,
our stars melting gently above.
Never before have I felt such joy
as our presence together in love.

…

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borderlands

15 Friday Nov 2019

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Buddhism, Christianity, compassion, destiny, free, homeless, imagination, love, philosophy, psychology, romance

i live in the borderlands,
between reality and imagination,
just this side of fantasy.

reality is okay.
i visit there
to check my mail,
earn a few dollars,
pay some bills,
buy groceries.

reality is an okay place to visit
but, i wouldn’t want to live there.

i’m happiest in my mind
where I filter my thoughts
like an answering machine.
i delete the negative,
dwell on the positive.

people may see me walking alone.
they don’t see the beautiful woman
at my side
with her hand in mine.

i may be seen sitting at a table, alone.
nobody sees the delicate hand,
with the magic fingers,
sliding up my thigh.

or, the passionate kiss
being planted on my throat,
the fingers running through my hair.

where i work
people see me smile.
they think I enjoy my job.
they don’t know me.

…

Sample my books for free — To date, $1945.00 has been donated to the homeless:

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Concrete Box

08 Friday Nov 2019

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blues, dreams, entertainment, fantasy, free, imagination, longing, love, music, mystery, universe

I work in a corporate, concrete box;
no windows, only a computer terminal
to link me to the outside world.
Only second-hand accounts
of weather, traffic,
whether it is day or night.

I sometimes go to work in darkness,
return in darkness.
I don’t know if the sun
remembered to rise at all.
Like the light in a refrigerator.
Does it really turn off
when I close the door?

At a keyboard, my fingers type numbers,
millions of numbers.
My mind wanders woodland paths.
I watch birds flitting from limb to limb,
chipmunks scurrying, stopping,
looking around, then scurrying again.

My mind plays tricks on me.
I imagine that just 26 floors down
I could exit on Beale or Bourbon Street.
Hear sounds of the South,
guitars, saxophones and raspy voices
that rule the rhythm of my body and soul.

Take me on a blues ride.
Let me wander with the lyrics
down Highway 61, “The Blues Highway”.
Let me smell the sweat and the booze,
the jostling at the bar,
the waitress who will smile for a tip.

Let me smell magnolia, bougainvillea,
where Spanish moss hangs below the branches,
see the darkest eyes and brightest smile,
hear that special whisper, “Come with me.”
We’ll walk for miles, be holding hands,
and never want for any more
than our window to a dream.

…

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Tennessee Honey

04 Monday Nov 2019

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destiny, dreams, emotion, fantasy, imagination, longing, love, lust, mystery, romance, sighs

Thoughts drift south,
Jack Daniel’s country
where the weather
suits my mood.

On a barstool
I park my bones
Inhale the Jack, magnolia–
sweet, sweet surrender.

A woman alone
at a corner table–
darkest eyes,
brightest smile,
auburn hair
to her shoulders.

I think, Why not?
Our eyes meet,
I saunter towards her
and know, from the look she gives,
she’s heard it all before.

“Ma’am, It would give me
the greatest pleasure
to buy you a drink
and share your table for a while.
If I can’t keep you smilin’
I promise,
I’ll take my conversation elsewhere.”

She said with the utmost
southern grace, charm
and hospitality,
“You’ve got ten minutes.
I don’t like to be disappointed.”

I fell into her raven pools,
somewhere, I got lost there.
I don’t know my way too well
around these parts
but, I’d swear she lured me
with some kind of mojo.

My eyes refused to look away
from ruby lips (so sensual)
as they spoke words of love
in a voice
of the sweetest, southern honey,
words…dripping…
tantalizing.

The evening passed,
holding hands across the table.
I was enthralled and enchanted.
Where it went from there
I refuse to say
(gentleman’s code of honor).

Such beauty
I have never known.
It keeps coming back
to haunt me.

My thoughts
were only passing through
but, in my dreams I see
the darkest eyes,
brightest smile,
hear her voice–
Tennessee honey.

…

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The Silver Fox

02 Saturday Nov 2019

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alcoholism, Buddhism, Christianity, compassion, despair, desperation, emotion, fear, homeless, loneliness, longing

Slouching
in forgotten tap-rooms
dirty old men,
forgotten old men,
slop piss-colored beer
from, wet, dripping glasses.
The hollow din,
the retelling of “the good old days”,
echoes sadly
as life quickly passes.

“They used to call me ‘The Silver Fox’
What do you think of that?
They used to care.”

An empty glass crashes
to the muddy floor.

“I guess I’ll be hitting the street tonight.
Sleep in an alley tonight.
Nobody cares.”

Slouching
in forgotten tap-rooms
dirty old men,
forgotten old men,
slop piss-colored beer.
Nobody cares….

Image: http://ow.ly/RNSi3

…

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First Kiss

29 Thursday Aug 2019

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dreams, emotion, empowerment, free, imagination, longing, love, mystery, personal, romance, sighs

my first kiss
so long ago
(not yet in high school)
in the back seat of a ’51 Ford
at a drive-in theatre.
I’ll remember ’till I die
my nervousness,
perspiration,
her perfume
(Tigress by Faberge)
her warmth,
angora sweater set
(pastel yellow —
no buttons
to hinder progress)
the sweetness of her kiss.
She knew much more than I
about such things

another world
had opened to me
desire and heartache
go together —
there’s seldom one
without the other
but, would we want it
any other way?
would we want
a safe, yet loveless life
without the up
without the down?
or, take the ecstasy
and risk our hearts
being trampled
to the ground

…

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Beach Girl

06 Monday May 2019

Posted by DennisCardiff in Poetry

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Beach girl
silhouetted
against the horizon.
Wild hair fluttering
flag of the evening breeze.

I sit
admiring
this distant beauty.
Heartfelt rhapsody
engulfed by remorseless night.

I see
small footprints
in the moist sand.
I know them as yours.
Would that I could take them home.

…

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Frost

17 Thursday Jan 2019

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a dove sits on a snowy bough,
her song cuts through my heart.
we both know how the lonely feels
when love is torn apart.

there never was an emptiness
the way i feel inside.
the ache is deep within my chest,
i have no place to hide.

was once a time my heart was full
when spring was in the air,
but Frost has draped me with her cloak,
my tears fall in despair.

the midnight train is leaving soon.
my bags are packed to go.
i shiver on the platform bare,
a spectre, slinking low.

…

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when buffalo roamed

29 Saturday Dec 2018

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I pray
there is a place
beyond the pain
where we will rise
in purity
above the cedars.

look down
our hearts have claimed
a rock ledge
to escape the rain,
a cathedral
among ancient pines.

stories
your grandma told
of a past
when buffalo roamed —
we were there,
we are still there
using different names.

…

Wild Rose

03 Monday Dec 2018

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Her sweet breath fell warm and soft
like a gentle prairie breeze
wafting the scent of wild rose,
delicate, but mostly wild.

Her mane, red and dangerous,
sometimes concealed then revealed
chameleon-like features,
an emotional rainbow.

Her full lips would pout or smile
like a sudden summer storm —
thunder, lightning then sunshine,
frighteningly beautiful.

Temperament like a mustang,
skittish, demanding patience,
or she would bolt for the wild.
Gentleness would subdue her.

For a while she could be held,
raging passion directed,
hunger could be satisfied
briefly, then she would be gone.

I would not hope to contain
or to harness the wildness.
For me she will always be
my sweet, delicate, Wild Rose.

…

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Welcome to the WATCH “#RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour! #RRBC

19 Monday Nov 2018

Posted by DennisCardiff in Poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Hello, my wonderful guests! Thank you all for joining me today on this amazing showcase tour being sponsored by RWISA (RAVE WRITERS – INT’L SOCIETY OF AUTHORS), an elite branch of the amazing RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB!

This showcase will feature 19 amazing writers, each having their own special day of being featured on multiple blogs. I, along with the other supportive hosts, ask that after reading the written work of art by each RWISA Author, that you click on the link designated to take you directly to that author’s profile page on the actual RWISA site. On my blog, that link will be the author’s name.

Today’s special guest:

D. L. FINN

Poetry by D. L. Finn

DARKNESS

The air is thick as you breathe it in

Filling your lungs with its silence.

It unnerves you when you’re alone

Because in the darkness there are shadows.

They are filled with the unknown

While the quiet is lurking with danger.

It’s unseen, watching while your heart is racing

And your skin drenched in sweat, you scan the night.

You see nothing and hear nothing

Yet, you know it’s there.

You hurry back into the light where it’s safe

Shut the door and lock it with a sigh of relief.

You quickly forget the darkness

But, what you don’t know is…

It hasn’t forgotten you.

TO FLY (Musings from the Back of a Harley)

We fly by the ranches…

Cows, goats, and horses.

Grazing golden-grass untroubled…

As we rumble loudly past them.

The ponds are rain depleted…

Fall harvest signs invite us to stop.

But, today is a day to fly…

To fly past normalcy

To fly past worries

To fly past obligations.

They rush by us like the scenery…

Soaring past our leather-clad bodies.

They crash behind us like a boat’s wake…

Miraculously missing us in our frantic flight.

Yet, all is forgiven flying on our motorcycle…

As our souls chaperon our journey.

THE RIVER’S GIFTS

It’s smooth and gentle on a warm spring day…

The rocks and trees are mirrored in its purity.

The beach’s sandy-warmth caresses me…

As I skim a flat rock across the water’s surface.

Eight small splashes are my reward…

Expanding into rings that disappear into flow.

Fish swim with the current beneath…

Hawks soar above searching for their next meal.

I deeply breathe in the serenity shared by the river.

A delicate butterfly swoops down and rests in front of me…

I want to touch it, be a part of its splendor, as I watch it fly away.

It finds nectar on a purple flower at the water’s edge…

I inhale bliss as the butterfly’s hunger is satisfied.

Searching up river I find water cascading down a rocky ledge.

I pause to drink in the magnificence and wisdom…

The river can negotiate any obstacle and continue its journey.

Here next to the flowing wonder, I find peace, and beauty…

I absorb this into my being, with gratitude, for the river’s gifts.

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New-mown Hay

30 Sunday Sep 2018

Posted by DennisCardiff in Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

deep emotion, first love, heavenly touch, longing, mystery, romance, sighs, sweet lips, true devotion, young love, your embrace

In memory is the scent of new-mown hay
wafted softly over moonlit, prairie fields.
Car audio music eased the tensions.
Fingers, hormones and pounding hearts collided.

CKOM Radio’s “Hi-Fi Club” with
“Digger” Dave Palmer spinning the platters
blasted over empty high school stadiums,
riverbank parking lots and secluded fields.

No past or future. There was only present.
Only that one unforgettable moment
forever etched indelibly in memory.
At the time, it seemed, a moment to die for.

Clumsy fingers fumbled with stubborn buttons.
Heaving breasts longed to be released at last.
Guilt, knowing that parents would be home waiting.
Excuses that begged for plausibility.

Many a romance was started or ended
to a favorite beat, harmony or chorus.
The first three bars still stimulate the passion
and bring the past thundering to the foreground.

Where are those unforgettable moments now?
Where are those raging hormones and pounding hearts?
I look back, over years of maturity
and long for the scent of warm, moist new-mown hay.

…

whisper and moan

10 Monday Sep 2018

Posted by DennisCardiff in Poetry

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Tags

alcoholism, compassion, death, despair, desperation, emotion, empathy, eternal, loneliness, longing, lost love

troubled blues with feeling
may ease my tortured mind;
free me from the clutches
of those I left behind.

these dirty hobo rags
hang on a wasted frame,
haunted by the memory
and rhythm of your name.

walking through this alley
shrouded, dark with death.
evil deeds will haunt me,
until my final breath.

craving me some whisky,
a friendly word and smile.
you can spend my money,
just stay a little while.

booze, it clouds my thinking.
your face is just a blur……
few more drinks together
i may think you are her.

guitar strings, whining steel,
a whisper and a moan.
use me and abuse me;
don’t leave me here alone.

…

borderlands

24 Tuesday Jul 2018

Posted by DennisCardiff in Poetry

≈ 2 Comments