Poet ...The Woman In Love.

A poet, a woman in love...as I speak your name ..
with words from the past, the words always uttered,
as you hold my hands naked...in your hands
with the magic extolling from you. from your eyes 

they are like deep pools in disguise, waiting to catch-me unaware's 
Unable to pass the migration sensually set by you...every which I look... at you
I touch your fingers as you kiss my face, am mesmerized by you 
the eloquence of the hunger felt, by me and you... as I've not been here before

the thirst, the thirsty sips that I covered you, with my lips  depositing thirsty kisses
as i kissed every inch of you, the urgent hunger as if there's no tomorrow...
that hunger between you and me, its an impossibility .
I worshipping the ground you stand in...as if I took root looking at you 

with the tears the laughter,  forever  in my mind in my heart
the phrases I utter when we meet, & when lovers speak with no words
your kisses sending shivers right through me...as i wake up in the morn
as I look at you my love, and you at me with this un-explicable desire

we have for the other as we speak in the eerie rain... soaking you and me
am hanging on to you with this urgency of calamity,
happening between you and me, this river this monsoon running past me
as I speak , or do not speak, your aware

Am waiting for you to come home to me  
As I stand behind my window waiting anxiously
You as a poet, I a woman in love...looking at you.
secretly welcoming the attention of...  Who's looking at you.

Ambiguous Ways

 Ambiguous Ways.        

If the eyes are the windows to my soul, then you are it...
you are the one that keeps me sane, keeps me alive using my mind
and seeing what goes around me,
I see your eyes following me, every which way I turn,
I am flummoxed by your interest, your interest in me,
I didn't know I had it in me this curiosity, that others stand and stare...
as if I was an extreme curiosity...
I always wondered why people would look at me,
It's not as if I was a beauty you see.
At times felt uncomfortable with the looks the stare's
What vibes was I giving them, I asked my friend !!
Do I look like a slapper in my behaviour
I've never acted improperly it wasn't in me,
But I always love to joke and laugh, just like anybody...
I've always been uncertain, of the way I looked I thought quite ugly was I
My neck too long my boobs I hardly had none my feet too big my butt!
Well, I liked not!
With the comments and the whistling every which way I went,
Really used to hate when I passed by a man! their stares.
The boy used to say, the power you have in you,
With just one look one, stare  you could have had anybody,
So innocent are you... How was I suppose to know,
I've made love to just one man, I guess I was that innocent...
But if I was this beauty, why hasn't anyone ever bothered to tell me,
If I was such a looker...for I never saw it myself, I thought I was quite ordinary...
Why did they hate me! I never understood beauty as such, me...
For I never saw myself as anything but...this person that used to hide,
From all and sundry, and my soul cried out, please set me free!
Now that I've passed my sell by date, they still do stare at me,
Making eye contact as I pass by..Starring ahead unflinchingly.
Yet again the boy still says, your still a beautiful woman, you could have had anybody.
But my soul cry's out, please set me free, from the windows of my world,
That have made my life a misery, with their looks their stares.
I ambiguously turning away embarrassingly knowing not how to act,
By the uncomfortable stares...that made me feel so unclean.
If the eyes are the windows of my soul...Then my nose its chimney,
I've such an acute sense of smell, as I go about scenting the air,
Smelling scenting  the air the vicinity around me
The scent's in the air all around you, at times, so heady attacking one's senses,
Every which way you turn leaving you senseless when it comes to the scent of He.
Those pheromones in him  & the endorphins in you,
You are lost in a world of scent, the scent of He so intoxicatingly.
From the scent of the rain that leaving that earthy smell,
The intoxicating scent of the flowers so heady,
Filing one's senses scenting nature all around.
Then my ears are like the earphones of the world.
With the sound of your baby's very first cry,
You're mesmerised by that little creature making that protesting sound,
As he came into the world...
And the crying never stops from the day ones born till one dies...
But there's also the wonderful sound of laughter, as one laughs and laughs again,
With that uncontrollable laughter, that hurts.
To some joke, some story as recounted by many.
But the best sound of all to me, at least, is the sound of music,
The music that Papa instilled in me,
Those sounds can make me laugh cry and whoop with ecstasy,
I have a piece of music for my every mood, whether am sad or happy,
Music has always been my salvation, from the highs to the lows,
To stop me going over the edge...indeed, music feeds my soul,
With unimaginable sounds sending my senses sky-high,
like that Condor riding those thermals winds
My lips my mouth sometimes in controversy,
I say what I think it does not worry me,
I speak as I see although try to hurt not anyone,
Especially those I love, considerate of others feelings...
My lips I make the shapes as I kiss you.
Your eyes your lips right down to your fingertips
As I whisper your name, my voice accentuates, the love in me for you,
For I miss when your not there, it hurts my darling you see,
It hurts when you ignore me,
I need to hear those phrases that only you can express...
It feeds my mind my heart my soul,
With that everlasting balm that makes life's bearable.
For am starved deep down with the need to hear you say
What if, what if, my darling what if I were to say I love you.!!
The sense of touch at my fingertips and yours,
It's unimaginable the senses that navigate's through you,
As you touch me lightly feather-like.
The touch of the night silently sending tremors through you,
As you whisper silently with your hands over me...
Like this sense, am depositing on you, kisses from your head to your toes,
One's mind works overtime,
With the urgency of your touch, as if one is floating on cloud nine,
The ecstasy, the uncertainty the ambiguity of how to deal with such feelings
Navigating through you.
As I touch you lightly ever so lightly,
With my lips my mind the whole of me
One's minds crying out for release.
The sweet surrender.
                                         
                                                 By Connie James.

The Golden Sun

That noon day with the golden sun..
as we whispered words of love...
in the wings of the wind, there's always a little rain.
As we danced...it falls on your hair,
your eyes your lips we take thirsty sips, looking in-to your eyes...
it's been a long way, from the foot of that lighthouse,
to the very top of that mountain high, to the fire by the riverside,
burning, burning somewhat, to the cooling by the waterfall,
as we immersed ourselves, to the point of no return...
as we whispered, whispered sweet nothings...
our minds refusing to think, beyond the here and now...
we could move that mountain, if we set our minds to..
as I whisper softly, softly, can you hear my love,
my words my words, that's all that's, left of me...physically or mentally...
Quand chuchoter ... l'epique parole d' amour, pour vous.  

Are You Back !

 Are you back...
are you really really back ...
I ask as you open your eyes,
but all you saw was an old man's torch in hand,
shining his light in -to your eyes, 
rather crossly telling him get that light off my eyes...
Yet again I ask you, are you really back ,
from your wondering's...
you've been away such a long time !!
you've been up-country down-country across-country,
north south, east west...
so I'd like to know my love...
are you really, really back ?
You've been through the chilly winds... 
 the rain from the palm of your hand,
to your entire body...those chilly winds,  kissing you...
I close my eyes and think about you, 
that vision so clear, so, so crystal clear...
in my mind I think of you day & night...
like a character in a story,
I knew you became mine...
as I close my eyes I can still hear your laughter...
your  peals of laughter that fills my mind,
with that unshakeable feeling that one feels,
deeply in ones core...
and yet again I ask, are you back !!
you astonishingly said, who are you ?
you could not remember me !
whom are you searching for ...
you I said, after all the angry words,
said and unsaid, I thought it was you...
am just a traveller going about here there and everywhere...
he said am sorry as he stared at me...
my mistake I think said I...
but deep in my mind I knew it was him...
he'd been away forever, it seemed... 
The sky became clear, just a few white clouds about...
by night time there will be rain, said the man staring at him...
then there was silence, 
the wind picking up,
that streak of lightning across my firmament,
a storm is coming, said the man, 
you better shelter in the waiting room...
who are your searching for... said the young man 
my son I thought you were son, 
we as strangers with an approaching storm...
got soaked drenching wet, as the man goes on his way...
All in all, yet again I ask are you back !!
never getting a strait answer from you...
your probably a character in a story of fiction, or a story of life
are you back !!


                                 Connie.

Non Confessare Nient.

Yah...tonight I may write my confessions once more...
but beware, my friend, not such good idea,
one must hold something to ourselves,
not anyone else's busyness, 
after the broken whispers, 
& the red leaves in the forest,
the wild taste of blood,
from your forgotten lips,
the sensual touch of fingers,
the laughter...the tears, the migration sensually lost
in the fire of the archipelago of your being,
whether its love or not, one cares not,
sex, nothing to do with love,
it can not be animal like...
animals make not love,
they just mate, love can be as sweet,
and imaginable as can be,
when their blood's on fire, one thinks not.
can not be help between two souls in love,
now its the time, as secret as you are,
the words are always mine...............Non confessare nient.

8 April at 21:20 · 

Magical Flute.

Eyes we need not to play an instrument
We just need to feel
But we need to have a soul that'ts full
When we pick that flute trying to make a sound
Such a glorious sound
Our fingers as we play each and every note
As the blind man from his memory he plays
It's engraved in his soul each memorable not
I love the silence of the night
It's so easy to think
It's the best time to write when everyone's asleep
Like that flute player forever in the dark.
In his mind, he can see each note
Wonderful just to sit and listen to his music...
Such pure, pure sweet sounds exuding from that flute
As if a band of angels keeping him in tune....
I calmly go on my way, feeling angry frustrated...
Far from peaceful...
As I wash my hands from the ignorance of those peoples...
I cross the highways and byways
As the slant of the crescent moon...
Lit the door of that cafe that was still closed...
There are no guitars strings tonight nothing of that ilk...
But a blind man playing his flute,
Who plays in the wind...
The flowers and my tears flowing silently,
Too many words spoken,...
Such a cacophony of sound...
Let there please be silence so I can just listen...
To the tunes way back, way back from home...
The tune of love, love lost & the shelter of him...
Still can hear the blind man
Playing his magic flute in the wind...                          

                                      By Connie James...












































 

My Madeira.

1. Good Morning My Friends
   This morning the weather not sure what's its doing
   So far bright day, there's a breeze amongst the trees
   as they dance and sway, in the wind.
   
   that's when one wishes, for the land where I was born
   where my roots run so deep, for the ones that I love
   it makes no difference, the length of time ones been away
   in my heart am screaming, for my Madeira.
   
   it doesn't mean I don't like where I am, its a beautiful country
   the panorama before one's eyes is truly awesome
   no better place to be... this England, that's been my home for so many years
   but there's always this pull so strong, Ana's photos leave me yearning
   my eyes feel so cloudy, I cant see the words before me, need to pack it in
   
   The beauty of the place is imaginable so
   There's no place like it, the land where I was born
   I miss the gardens the flowers
   They abound everywhere, from the town to the mountains
   
   To every corner of the land...there's the most amazing sight
   A sight for sore eyes, the wonderful Agapanthus
   As they sway in the wind, the hydrangeas of every colour
   You can imagine but for me its the blue and the white
   
   That sets my heart aflame, its the colours of my childhood
   Intermingled with many...like the birds of paradise
   in my Paradise land...the lands of my Papa,
   that he used to tend with love...in my mind I see him
   
   Amongst the vines the sugar canes, the Banana plants,
   And of those, there were many, the figs, custard fruits the guavas too
   And many others, they are too many to name...just a small corner of paradise
   As he tended lovingly, with the sweat from his brow.
   
   I miss the vision of colour, that attacks our senses
   like the Bougainvillea, over the rivers, and every wall one sees
   the beautiful flowering Jacaranda trees, a lovely colour of purple
   you'll ever see...the Oleanders, hibiscus too
   
   And all the flowering trees, I don't have the names to
   The scent of the Eucalyptus intermingles with the Pine
   that scent is so heady...one breath deeply
   To inhale to fill one's lungs, with that pure clear air
   
   I also miss being with the family, especially as they get together
   And am nowhere to be seen...in my heart I hurt, like no one's business
   My fault for loving so deeply, with my heart my soul
   I have a beautiful family, with the exception of one or two
   
   but mostly I love those, that stayed close to me
   like the sisters and brothers, like Luis, I miss you so
   You were my play mate, as we were growing up
   remember the kites we made...and let them rip in the air
   
   the excitement of it all, as we run everywhere
   climbing the fruit trees, singing our lungs out
   oh Maritimo or Benfica songs, making the trees sway
   your and my way, then you fall of the bloody tree

   .
2.      shocked I thought you died...thank goodness,
3.      you were just winded and to live another day
4.      Mama pulling her hair out, you devils she'd say 
5.      As she picks you up and takes you away       
6.      I miss you maninho, in my mind heart and soul
7.      it'll never ever be the same again, Tiamo Luis.   
8.               
9.                 By Connie James 
10.