I have given serious consideration to closing this BLOG since I publish my poem at two other sites:
Thought Café < http://www.thoughtcafe.co.uk/user_view.php?userid=818> and
AuthorsDen < http://www.authorsden.com/darkbard>, and I do not seem to have enough time to really do it justice. But in the end I have decided to keep it around, if for nothing else then to chit chat every once and a while with my legion of fans (hahahaha), maybe one day.

I seem to have gotten my muse back I a big way this week and half, though at this moment it lies dormant like a dead fish. But I have a feeling my muse like that of most poet’s ebbs and flows depending on our moods, and mine today is not the happiest. So my muse is not speaking to me. Perhaps this weekend I will do some more writing; last weekend was sweet, four really good poems written! I love it when the muse is really with me and working almost overtime. Writing good poetry is such a good feeling, its so emotional—for me anyway, and its good for me to let go and tap into that side of myself, I think it makes me a better person, a better husband, and father.

Later people…

I was feeling a little randy when I wrote this one, enjoy...

Sonnet 88

Into my dreams one night she came,
A classic oriental beauty with no discernable name.
Her lithe naked body glistened in the bright moon light,
And my eyes did behold an angelic cock hardening sight.

Her black hair caressed by the moon, shown like silk,
And her breasts were round and heavy with milk.
Her skin was warm, smooth and soft to the touch,
And her garden smelled of jasmine, its lone bud I longed to suck.

She said not a word, but bent to her task.
My now awakened shaft she took firm in her grasp.
She caressed its great length until it stood firm and hard,
Then suck and lick it she did like an all knowing bard.

Until out of my center I erupted in licentious pleasure.
My happy shaft pulsing salty seed without measure.

I wrote this poem one day last Fall when I was feeling particularly low.

Take me!

By

Vincent E. Martin

On wings of white with arrowed flight,
Come take me.

On sulfur breeze through ruined trees,
Come slay me.

On darkened night with snarling bats in flight,
Come steal my soul away.

On winged lizard with molten breath to sear the flesh of the earth,
Come chase me down and run me through,

On a magic horse with a horn of gold, and fur the color of new born cotton,
Come take me please and end the agony of my existence;
Come slay me and remove the dark clouds that blind me;
Come steal my soul and end its tortured, painful, wretched tenure upon this earth;
Come chase me down and run me through, pierce my heart and from my lungs filch the
very bankrupt breath I breath.

Take me,
Waste me,
End me,
Eradicate me,
Exterminate me with extreme prejudice, and leave no evidence of my passing.

Tease me no more with promises of happy ends and hollow friends;
Mock me no more with this life, this pointless endeavor, this meaningless dance without
end, this Pavlovian existence in search of a fabled ending.

Here I stand arms held wide, awaiting the huntsman’s arrow.
Let it fly,
Let it fly;
Its sharp, shining, pointed head be true, to end my tormented dreamless life,
My soul is exhausted, weary, deflated, and quite through.
Come take me, I beg thee, come take me…

The Turning of Spring, Part II

By

Vincent E. Martin & Suzarah A. Maguigad

Sunlight, bright warming food,
Birds chirp on budding branches,
Cheerful spring day dawns.

A morning to sing,
Je chante ma foi,
A soul exposed for ears to listen.

Flowing silver stream,
Weeping willow branches drink,
A quite greening forest glen.

Beauty from a distance afar.
Enter into the enchanted world
To dance among the aging limbs

The warming winds wind, and flit
Round ageless fingers of green expanse,
En chatouiller ma denude peau.

From Thy Picture

by

Vincent E. Martin a.k.a. The Bard

From thy picture I see:

The smoothest of dark lines enticing,
The softest of curved lips inviting,
The gentlest of eyes hypnotizing,
The loveliest of gazes memorizing me…

Inviting me to know thee,
Dream of thee,
Long for thee as the day wears on slowly
In that gaze, that rounded eloquent face,
The mystery that is you awaits my discovery…

From thy words,

The purest of thoughts open upon an ivory colored parchment,
The sharpest of intellect is displayed in black and white
The sweetest of souls is bared to the world;
Might I know thy mind?

The poem below was written by a friend and classmate of mine and I via email as we worked on a project for our Legal Writing class (we are in law school). She loves the passage of winter into spring, as do I. So herein scribed below is the fruit of our labor.

I fashioned the first stanza from a haiku I wrote last year and she wrote the next and so it went. It was a fun exercise, one I don’t get to do often, to share creativity with another poetic soul. I hope time and circumstance will allow us to write another together…

The Turning of Spring

By

Vincent E. Martin & Suzarah A. Maguigad

Pink blossoms fragrant scent,
Many colored wings wave gently
Butterfly spreads life.

First flush of vegetation
Of the birch and willow
Not green but delicate gold.

No emotional loss
To the passing of winter,
Rather delight;

In the satisfying warmth
The sunlight shares,
And life slowly revealing itself.

Life, true love
A born again experience,
The soul refreshed with a world anew.

Where skies streaked
Passion red, a backdrop
To Shakespearian love.

Or set your eyes
On royal purple hues,
A signature of sacrificial love.

At home and hearth
My heart beats with eyes aglow,
A soft place to fall.

Sonnet 2:

Blue waters, endless waves, water upon white sands.
Blue waters, cooling waves, we walk barefoot through.
Blue waters, whispering waves, pushed by God’s hand.
We walk along the sun-trenched beach, soul-n-soul, just me and you.

We walk through blue water, cool water, without a care.
The wind catches thy hair and blows it to and fro.
It strikes me in the face so gently, togetherness we share.
Sweet love and tender care we show.

Our minds contain the same sweet dreams, like smoothies in a blender.
Your smile lights my heart, and gladdens my soul.
Your eyes betray your love so tender,
Gentle waves upon me told.

Blue waters, silent waves, water upon white sands.
Blue waters, whispering waves, pushed by God’s ever present hand.