Being Home

Being Home 

I miss the sweetness of the day 

The twilights and the dawns per se 

The rain that fell on old tin roofs 

And the pounding of my horse's hoofs 

The country side so green and fair 

The hills in winter, the County Fair 

The Spring in May, the flowers so wild 

The joy in just being a child 

I miss the dinners on family tables 

The love that made us all feel able 

To face the world so cold and mean 

The beauty in life that can't be seen 

The cows in the meadow, the fish in the creek 

The hay in the hay fields fresh smelling and sweet 

The rabbits that ran when we ran through those fields 

The way we were then when our young lives felt real 

But most of all, I miss the love 

I miss the wonder of skies above 

I miss the way I longed for life 

And never knew then of the oncoming strife

I miss my mom and I miss my dad 

And all the good times we all had 

My brothers and sisters and the farm of my youth 

Working the earth and knowing the truth 

For the truth now escapes me 

As my life slips away 

And the twilights have taken 

All my sunrises away 

How I miss those sweet days 

And the joy I have known 

How I miss feeling loved 

How I miss being Home.

©by Voo 

October 31, 2004

 2:15 a.m.

Special People

Special People



The world is full of special people
Living all apart
Afraid to meet one another's eyes
Or let them in their hearts.
Special people walking past
Other special people daily
Living life somber and sad
When they could be living gaily.
Eating dinner all alone
Lonely breakfast, lonely lunch
Letting love just pass them by
Without a single hunch.
Dreaming dreams day after day
And lonely hours of night
Never dreaming that they could come true
Or that things could come out right.
Special people with special gifts
To share but afraid to share
Praying to God to send them love
But never seeing it there.
For we all have our ideals of love
And we can't compromise
To accept a different kind of love
Or bless it with our eyes.
So lonely people live and die
Alone with bitter pride
While love is knocking at our doors
Begging to come inside.


©by Voo
December 26, 2004
 10:46 p.m.

Moonlight on the Dream World

The Unspeakable Word (Hunger Beyond Hunger)

soundtrack (put on loop)

The Unspeakable Word

 (Hunger beyond Hunger)

Licking my lips,

I watched his mouth move

In the moonlight

He was mocking and laughing 

At a once pretty girl

Accosted on the street

As he'd hurried off to mischief.

She was far beneath him,

(I could tell by the cut of his clothes,

By the shine of his shoes

His proud regal bearing

And his beautiful face)

A woman of the night

Who sold herself like matches.

Like pastries on the baker's cart

Or papers that the barking boys

Tried desperately to sell

Before the streets cleared of daylight

Leaving the night folk to appear

She sold herself like merchandise

No longer feeling she had worth.

It was not her, though

That held my interest

But the man she flirted so piteously with

Who disdained with feigned gentility

And shook his head and laughed

As he pulled his tailored coat tails

From her thin and hungry hands.

Finally resorting to begging,

She saw his eyes go cold

And he flung her away as though a rag

And threw something at her feet

I watched her scramble as he hurried away 

Hoping to find some coinage

But finding only refuse, she fell on her knees and wept.

I followed him down darkened streets

Where my footsteps made no sound

Listening to his boot heels ring

On every cobblestone

He did not know I shadowed him, he was not of me, aware

He swore some oaths, he wiped his clothes

To remove the smell of her.

Pulling deep on a silver flask,

He returned it to his pocket,

Stopped to watch some partiers

Whistle to hansom cabs for hire

He knew that he would not go home, had no wish to go

Or to a mistress waiting with sleepy eyes
 And soft hands, for his touch.

But before that, he knew the night

Would bring him other pleasures

A victim to calm his own blood lust

With the daggers in his pockets

He turned to find the discarded girl

She would do as good as any

The black bag heavy in his hand as he smiled an evil smile.

He took his time and I took mine

As my hunger drove me onward

I  knew what I wanted, I wanted him

But it was a long, slow chase

I had to be careful, had to be on my guard

For there are those who aren't kind

To me and my kind.

He stopped there in the moon's glow

As though he'd heard a noise

 In silence I glided behind his back,

Heard the blood rush through his veins
(And the sound made me go mad)

I breathed him deep into my lungs, intoxicated, impatient

 My mouth begged for the taste of him, my body, for his blood.

For I, too, am a woman of the night,

A creature of the darkness

But I do not beg, I only take

And sate my endless hunger

Slake my thirst on those I find delectible

Like this handsome cold hearted fool
 With his greedy, wicked eyes.

Who are you? he cries. You're beautiful!

And I lower my lashes, pretending to blush

He caresses my cheek that's as cold as white marble

As his will bends to mine and my hypnotic eyes

Pulling his body against me, deep in the shadows

I feel the knives in his pockets, feel his heart racing

But he does not and will not ever feel mine.

I am so hungry, I'm beyond hunger!

Like an animal now, I howl at the moon

The man in my arms, though wild with desire,

Sensing some danger, begins to fumble and fall

But I push back his hair, exposing his throat

And I shush all his whimpers, whispering

Don't be afraid.

Then I feel him give me the sum of himself

All life loses meaning before this moment in time

His wife and his mistress, both waiting in vain

Behind their sad and neglected doors

But it matters not to me to see that he's full of avarice

I feast now with my hunger unleashed

 And a soul that's simply --------.

 

©by Voo Shining Stone

Sept 4, 2020

12:07 a.m.

Written in response to a Poets Dream word prompt

in which we could not actually use the word.

********************
And what is the unspeakable word, Readers???

😮😲 🙄

Owl Kitty in Risky Business