No orders, no borders.
No boxes, just open spaces to explore.
No restriction, no condition of limitation.
The lightening of heavy burdens is a journey.
A world where confinement is nonexistent.
Independence is no longer a dream.
Excitement in the eyes, they beam.
Clear minds meet at the sound and sight of creativity.
Bright colours bloom beautifully expressing the artistic side.
Creative hands swing vicariously for the adventurous ride.
Thoughts flow through vocal cords and paper splashed with a variety of ink.
Elements of joy sprinkle the air as nature unfolds far and near.
– Erika Heslop Martin
The sound of the ocean as it crashes against the rocks,
As rhythmical as her heart as it races with the clock.
The heat inside rages, more forceful than the waves,
Her liquid pleasure, mimicking the sea, to and fro, as her body buckles and raves.
With every inch she kisses her lips trail fire,
Lingering, taunting, creating a mortal desire.
Hands of warmth touch her buckling hips,
Filling her carnal need with solely the touch of fingertips.
The night grows old, the sea rages on, whistling of danger, yet creating much calm,
Lost in the moment, skin touching skin, only sound penetrating, like that of a storm.
The siren inside being called by the sea, A sound so intense and provocative as can be
She rises, captivates, and enthrals, her body, fluid, Poseidon, and the goddess of the sea.
Inhibitions lost, replaced by a dangerous need,
Cautioned, barely, as she relinquished the lead.
The fire rises, burning, hotter, brighter,
Fuelled by oxygen, as lips touch, and the grip holds tighter.
Rocking, pumping, hips moving, legs shaking,
Hearts, racing, feeling the high as the rules are breaking.
She feels wanton, welcomed, and embraced,
A lust, a longing, being slowly sated and replaced,
Stroke, by stroke her body writhes with pleasure,
She conforms, gives in, a reward of proportion without measure.
Eyes closed, legs recover, she slowly returns,
Now she hears it once more, the sound of the ocean as it churns.
– Roxy Dixon
Story of a lost love
The silvery clouds caress the blue sea.
On top of the rippling waves,
The native pelicans flock.
Such intimacy reminds me that love is gone.
Anna flew across the shore as a seagull
Destined for a land of fairy tale.
Now I walk alone in the white sands of loneliness.
I gaze at the lighthouse from afar.
Whose arms will hold her until dawn?
The willow gives a sad rendition of weeping.
Love’s wild orchids no longer bloom.
And the salty wind carries away my confidence.
We lost vision of reality when our romance was young.
Nothing seemed impossible to us.
We built our little heaven on hopes and fantasies.
Beside the orchard gate,
We sat and counted fireflies.
Nights were laced with kisses and embraces,
Moonlight and lovers’ conversation.
How they gratified our silly hearts!
Shooting stars occasionally entered our paradise.
We never doubted our dreams.
But all this is just a blissful story of yesterday.
Like a faded flower on the ground,
Her love for me has completely worn out.
My heart now resides in an erotic history.
Sadness fills the place where love once dwelled.
But in my book of poetry,
The lyrics of passion will remain forever.
We used to dash through the prairie
As the grass bends in the summer breeze.
Our love was so exciting.
Now I cling to the indelible memories,
The story of a lost love.
– Marlon Pitter