May December romance

2 entries allowed.
Describing any good, bad, sex filled, sex starved, intellectually filled, starved.... Get the pic....whatever

Relationship between older and young.
2 weeks.
Max 2 entry, no colab
Have a load of fun!

Example piece

Romance Fitzgerald


Hand burns my skin
With hot touch
Behind knee traveling up
To divinity

Sweet wet baptism
In my prize
Before i die in anger
In lust

Before he dies
In nevermore
Young man
Turned grey

Seeks redempt
Between my legs
A virgin spirit
Sluts thrust
 
Kiss lilly white
Petals areola
Try and tame
But my savage beast remain

Fuck you
Fitzgerald
Romancing
The party after

Make a gooood
Woman crazy
Mind travel
And such

Stretch arms
Further to catch
A past
To far flung

Your sweet song
My darlin
Already
Been sung.

kairos ~

the pendulum stills
[&]
i've slowed too
to watch two
chronological moments
synchronise
in temporal relation ~
this karmic alignment
... so often askew
when our circadian rhythms
forget the ticking tempo
which marked realisation...
meets like a timeless eclipse
*
i hold a ceaseless breath
in this paused hourglass trickle
of thoughts & never pretend
to understand ~
... the flow
of time & space
& the passing of days
which beg
another leap second
spent with you ...
//

Oh K, you have such command with the beauty in things without the least reak of too sentiment. This shows such tenderness in grattitude for every passing moment, with him.  I love he wasnt mentioned until the last moment, was breathless with you until then.

Katja, "kairos" is a romantic triumph. Oh that time would stand still! Brava!

Ashes & Charm
   
the morning brought the usual sensory overload,    
   
light too bright,    
   
breath too dank with alcohol and sleep,    
   
pain too acute in head and fists,    
   
bruised from scrapping with punks,    
   
bodies unwashed for too long,    
   
smelling of smoke and sex    
   
   
i woke first,    
   
and pushed her arm off of my chest,    
   
she rolled away and snored on,    
   
i got up and lit up a clove,    
   
the perfumed tobacco    
   
mingled scents with the human's    
   
i glanced over and saw her with half-sober eyes    
   
   
she was a tall, short-haired blond,    
   
nice tits, narrow ankles and narrow waisted,    
   
her makeup was smeared on the pillow,    
   
silver gray and bronze on ivory cotton,    
   
her nose was a little too big,    
   
but I remembered    
   
her humor made her beautiful,    
   
and she did not scream    
   
as I tore through the night on the bike    
     
   
no more than 22, I guessed,    
   
I was 41,    
   
with thinning hair and rotten teeth,    
   
but I rode a motorcycle    
   
and had a shitload of money,    
   
and lived in a loft...soooooo kewl    
   
I was a "poet"    
   
and won over strangers at open mic nights,    
   
I had a mean jab,    
   
and had knocked out some Cal-poly geek    
   
who called me an old prick at the bar    
   
   
i had won back my youth with one punch,    
   
and got laid as a prize,    
   
now I had to face the reckoning,    
   
the sober reality,    
   
in HD and live    
   
i always feared the conversation,    
   
the false courtesy,    
   
the lack of intimacy,    
   
that under drunk hazes,    
   
came with such ease    
   
   
she had approached me,    
   
after the fight, buzzing on wine,    
   
i had retreated to a corner,    
   
a fighter’s natural instinct,    
   
“tell me something’, she said,    
   
“about myself, that I do not know.”    
   
my ego would not let me    
   
tell her the truth, so I slurred    
   
an answer without thought,    
   
“you glow my dear, you glow!”    
   
   
i stood on the balcony,    
   
unafraid of my naked vulnerability in the morning light    
   
no one cared that early,    
   
nudity only was a crime after 9 a.m.    
   
i waited for, and was rewarded with,    
   
the traditional toilet flush,    
   
and heard the steps    
   
of little female feet    
   
as they crashed back on to the bed    
   
   
"Hey! 'mornin sunshine!", she chirped,
   
and so it begins,    
   
the feigned spritely chatter,    
   
to cover her shame?    
   
Why?  Why couldn't there just be silence?      
   
We could have just looked at each other,    
   
to study each other's face,    
   
to contemplate how much    
   
we would really have to care,    
   
after having sex    
   
without knowing each other the night before    
   
   
i walked over to the bed,    
   
and did not smile,    
   
sat down next to her and looked her in the eyes,    
   
she smiled for a second,    
   
i searched, in hopes of discovering    
   
a light, fire, anything to snare my heart,    
   
i took too long in looking,    
   
she pulled back,    
   
her smile faded,    
   
gravity pulled the corners of her mouth back down,    
   
she tilted her head to one side,    
   
like a young ignorant german shepherd learning it's name,    
   
"what?", she muttered,    
   
"you some kind of asshole or something?"    
   
   
oh boy, yes indeed,    
   
no rest for the wicked or depraved,    
   
the fear was gripping her,    
   
fear of rejection,    
   
fear of understanding,    
   
fear of judgment,    
   
fear, everlasting, eternal fear    
   
women have no base,    
   
they drift like anchorless ships,    
   
waiting for rescue,    
   
no one can just be,    
   
everything needed to be compartmentalized,    
   
all corners squared,    
   
no round edges,    
   
no thread left untrimmed,    
   
always to live in the black or the white,    
   
with no calm or indeed no silence    
   
   
"no", I answered,    
   
"i am just slow in the mornings."      
   
i touched her cheek    
   
hoping to thaw    
   
the hard eyes and tight lips,    
   
less threatening while naked under a sheet,    
   
there was a moment of ease,    
   
and i walked to the fridge and got two beers,    
   
i was already four smokes into the day,    
   
which made the thought of kissing scary    
   
as i whiffed my own stinking breath    
   
   
her youth and beauty stirred me again,    
   
and hot flashes of the night    
   
came back to my memory,    
   
she had been an energetic lover,    
   
throwing her hips into mine,    
   
grinding pelvis on pelvis,    
   
with her head thrown back,    
   
lost in her own ecstasy,    
   
her breasts were firm    
   
and aimed straight ahead    
   
defying age & gravity,    
   
only such youth could fuck like that,    
   
i & the others she would screw    
   
were stealing the spark    
   
meant for her future husband    
   
     
she took the beer    
   
and held it to her head,    
   
i waited for her to ask for aspirin,    
   
but she didn't    
   
she dug through purse for her phone,    
   
switched it on    
   
and mindlessly began texting,    
   
"i have to find where my girls crashed!"    
   
the quiet was blasted    
   
by her ringtone,    
   
top 40 shit heard on every station    
     
   
i dressed,    
   
as she blabbed with another girl,    
   
in another room,    
   
across town,    
   
on another bed,    
   
naked under another sheet,    
   
smoking a joint,    
   
in another sucker's place,    
   
   
she did not notice    
   
as i sped away on my bike    
   
cloaked in the morning fog,    
   
and across the bay bridge    
   
in hopes of returning,    
   
to an empty apartment    
   
where only her scent    
   
lingered on the sheets,    
   
i never wanted to see her again

Oh sweet heart, thouroughly enjoyed this. An assault on the senses that served their purpose very well, love the smells involved. That morning walk of shame and regret captured in full force.
Thanks so much for it!

Hi!  Very glad you enjoyed it!  Looking forward to reading more excellent work.  Mike.

Hope this is OK Jennifer as it's one I wrote last year and published on DU. This one's been modified.  
Sorry, don't know how to do the link.


Saved


He was 19; she was 37
Forbidden love it seemed to them for he was the son of her friend
 
But nothing could stop this union of love and lust
 
He loved her so tender, so wise, for someone so young
She explored her sexuality which had been bound before he came along
 
Nothing else existed when they saw each other
Two individuals locked in one aura, together
Illicit, complicit - yes
Contrite, they were not
 
This union couldn't possibily last
So deep did they explore
Fragments of themselves were found on the floor
 
It was painful to see what was happening to them
 
If they reached supernova, then no-one would win
 
Their love was destroying each other  
Something had to give and give it did
When he stepped up to the plate and left after eight months
He saved her life as well as his
 
I haven't seen him since; not a breathe or a word
My memories are all I have of the one who saved me
So I could live and be heard

Love Me My Darling

love me my darling
for the softness
around my greying curls
the light of my love
in my aging eyes

love me my darling
for the tenderness
of my callous hands
for the patience
in my cracked heart

love me my darling
for the gentle love
I offer you
and the flickering glow
of an enduring passion

you are the find of my Autumn years
the diamond in my circle of Gold
Love me, for as long as the brightness glow
I will love you for as long as my breath is warm.

Oh Kate, lovely and haunting. Renewed in love then the differences of age and need cut a huge crevice. But still a bright spot in memory. Sad no contact and seemingly the impact not as heavy on him. But we all have different ways of dealing with loss and change. I suspect his memories are dear and deep. Beautiful poem and entry!

A lovely poem Grace, love the sentiment. Not quite seeing the contast of age? Msybe you help me? Reguardless i enjpyed it very much!

calamitygin said:A lovely poem Grace, love the sentiment. Not quite seeing the contast of age? Msybe you help me? Reguardless i enjpyed it very much!
It's okay calamitygin...the grey hair, the callous hands, the old eyes and the cracked heart...hmm, maybe not too obvious in the contrast eh...anyway, I love writing and I am glad you enjoyed it.

Yes, i see the old age. The competition was about relationships between older and young.
Not to take away at all from the exeptional quality and beauty of your entry. I really liked it. Just confused by that aspect. Maybe im not reading well and missing something.
And please dont mistake my question for any lack of appreciation for your wonderful entry.

My October to Your June

hold me a little longer my love
hold me a little tighter
my feet are not as agile
as I dance to your rhythm

'should I stumble
should I go slower
forgive age
but not our love'

I rest my head
upon your shoulder my love
and listen to your strong heartbeats
gentle echoes from my own

'should I slumber deeper
or fumble for my buttons
forget my glasses
love me your forgiveness'

my footsteps are shorter my love
and your strides are strong
as my shadows are long
and yours just a puddle

'when I forget the time of day
or wander into the fairy circles
just gently lead me home
to the circle of your arms'

the winter years reach for me
the spring wafts goodbye to you
seasons change yet love stays
honest born of truth

'loving is gentle now
savour the fire flickering within
ever there to be quenched
yet never a bonfire that roars'

as I sip from the goblet of life's wine
and you drink of yours
I lift a toast to love
and your walk of  faith with me.




*a second entry...love the competition...