Archive for Poetry Train

Poetry Train….

Fingers stroke my skin,
Leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.
My heart races as you wrap your arms around me.
Every atom within me cries out
For the touch of your body against me.
If All I can have at this time in the world,
Is simply to be held by you once in a while,
I’ll take it and offer to you whatever you need from me.

-T.A. Chase c. 2011

Poetry Train reboot….

I thought I’d reboot my poetry train Mondays. I’ve forgotten how much I like to write poetry, so this’ll help push me to do more of it.

I’m not sure if I shared this one with you yet, but I thought I’d post it anyway. Just in case I didn’t.


As much as I long to spend time with you
I know deep inside it’s not the right thing to do.
The world we find ourselves tied inside
Forces us to dream and hide.
Sometimes silence is the only way
To hear the depth of what you say.
Yet with each step we draw near,
Toe maybe finding our way clear
Of the doubt and pain,
To shield each other from the rain.
Knowing you love and dream,
Even if it’s not with me.
Merely knowing you’re alive
Allows me to continue on and survive.
-T.A. Chase c. 2011

Excerpt Monday..

Here’s another excerpt from His Heart’s Home. (I’ll be coming up with a blurb soon, so everyone can know what the story’s about. I

Excerpt (Unedited & uncontracted):

“You wound me,” he pouted, reaching out to tug on Derek’s jeans. “I really don’t want you to get sick.”

“So wet country singers get you hot, huh?”

Derek stripped the t-shirt off first, letting the soggy fabric hit Max in the face when he dropped it.

“Only if it’s you.”

Sitting up, Max tore off his own shirt, thanking God that he wore one with snaps instead of buttons. He flung it to the side just as Derek straddled him and pushed him back.


Derek followed him down and crushed their lips together. He speared his fingers through those brown curls he loved to touch. He dueled with Derek over who would control the kiss, but when Derek bit his bottom lip hard, he yielded.

While he sucked on Derek’s tongue that got swept into to tease his, he rocked his hips up against Derek’s groin.

He tore his mouth away and swore, “Shit. I want you to fuck me.”

Derek shook his head. “Can’t. No condoms or lube.”

“Fuck. Guess maybe I need to start packing those in my saddle bags then,” he joked.

“It’s all right.”

He trailed his hands over Derek’s shoulders and down his chest to twist those nipples when Derek reared up on his knees. Devouring his lover with his gaze, he watched the man struggle to open his jeans and push the sides out of the way as his cock sprang free of its confinement. He sucked in his breath at the sight of that thick shaft. He really wanted to feel Derek riding him with it, but that would have to wait.


“Ouch.” Max rubbed his chest where Derek had pinched him. “What?”

“Help me get yours out and then we can have a little fun.”

His eyes lit up. There wouldn’t be any fucking or sucking, but there could be some jerking and rubbing. They would both be able to come and he’d be able to ride fence without causing serious injury to himself.

Fumbling together, they managed to uncover his own cock and they sighed as their heated flesh brushed against each other. He wrapped his hand around their shafts and Derek joined him, stroking hard and fast.

“Oh God,” Derek cried out.

Max pumped the way he liked it with a little twist of his palm over the heads, gathering the pre-cum pooling there. Somehow, Derek bent to kiss him without breaking their connection. He tasted the coffee and bacon the singer had for breakfast. Nibbling along Derek’s bottom lip, he trailed his kisses over the stubble-covered chin to his neck.

Derek’s head dropped back, giving him more skin to play with. He scraped his teeth over the man’s jugular and Derek jerked.

“Max, soon,” Derek warned.

“Come on, baby,” Max growled and squeezed.

“Ah,” Derek grunted as heat spilled over Max’s hand onto his stomach.

As the hot liquid washed over his cock, Max let his control go and came, adding his to the mess. Derek collapsed on him, trapping their hands and pricks between their bodies.

Wincing, Max wiggled and shimmied until their hands were free. He threaded the fingers of his clean hand through Derek’s hair and stared up into the blue sky. The strangest feeling of contentment swelled in him and he imagined that this was the most relaxed he’d been in a long time. Since he left Sydney for America, he’d been searching for elusive happiness and though he knew the relationship he had with Derek wasn’t going to end well, he would grab what he could before the singer had to go back to the real world.

Poetry Train #94


Eyes closed, I absorb your presence,
Aching to trail my fingers over your body.
But I’m bound by invisible ties
To someone whose love I could never return.

I long to be honest
But my tongue is tied.
I wish to be strong
But my compassion makes me weak.

Somehow you understand what I’m feeling.
I see the need in your eyes,
Though we stand next to each other,
There is a chasm I can’t cross.

I smile and laugh with friends,
Dying inside an inch at a time.
Wishing I could hold you,
While my arms are wrapped around another.

–T.A. Chase c. 2009

Poetry Train #93


Wrapped inside a warm embrace,
I slumber,
Unaware without dreams.

Then a spark burns through me,
I awake,
Stretching inch by inch.

Emerging and unfurling,
I breathe,
Absorbing sunlight.

With my wings dry,
I fly,
Far more beautiful than I once was.

—T.A. Chase c.2009

Poetry Train #90


Dark eyes peering from behind a fringe of black hair, he meets my gaze with a grin. The tilt of his head and the movement of his hips entice me closer. I reach out, trailing my fingers over his shoulder and down his chest, ending at the waist of his jeans. Hooking my finger in a belt loop, I tug him closer. His arms settle around my waist and I nuzzle his neck, breathing in the salty scent of sweat and male. Our bodies rock and rub to the driving beat of the music filling the club we dance in. He sighs, leaning into me, and I know, I’ll be going home with him tonight.

—T.A. Chase copyright c. 2009


Don’t forget to stop by my editor’s blog for today’s contest.

Poetry Train #89


Fingers twine with fingers

Lips brush over lips

Teeth tease and bite.

Skin rubs on skin

Body presses against body

Breath mingles and warms.

Arms locked with arms

Hips grind into hips

Essence blends with essences.

I have never seen you,

Yet I know you exist.

The conviction of my heart gives me faith.

I have never heard you,

Yet I know you love me.

The evidence is in your touch.

T.A. Chase copyright c.2009

Poetry Train #88

I thought I’d give you a little peek at Ghost of a Chance, my March release from Loose-Id. I’m starting edits this week, so this excerpt is unedited. Just so you all know, in case it’s a little rough around the edges. 🙂

Here’s the blurb:

Padraig Monaghan has a problem. Most would consider dying in a bar fight ten years ago upsetting, and existing as a ghost wandering the world might be thought a real predicament. They might deem a second chance at life through a chance encounter with a dying man a serious dilemma. But for Padraig, finding himself face to face with the man he’d loved and lost a lifetime ago is the biggest thing on his mind.

Gareth Reilly stops at O’Toole’s for a drink before he heads home. Tomorrow’s going to be another lonely birthday for him until he’s approached by a stranger. There’s something about Padraig’s bright green eyes and Irish accent that reminds Gareth of a man he once knew. Unable to resist, Gareth breaks his cardinal rule and invites Padraig home.

On St. Patrick’s Day, when Irish magic is strongest, it’ll take a belief in the impossible and help from a grateful elf to give Padraig and Gareth another chance at love.


Surprised at his boldness, Gareth takes a sip of his drink. Any other man who had ever hit on him using a tired old line like that would have seen the back of Gareth’s head as he walked away. What was it about this man that made Gareth willing to break his own rules?

“Thank you.” The man held out his hand. “I’m Padraig Burns.”

“Gareth Reilly.” He shook Padraig’s hand and enjoyed the shiver of attraction skating over his nerves to pool in his groin.

“How long have you been in Boston, Gareth?” Padraig sprawled in the chair rather clumsily like he wasn’t used to having limbs to put places.

Gareth wasn’t always the most graceful, so he ignored Padraig’s flopping. “Four years. You haven’t been here long since you still sound like a homegrown son of Erie.”

“I’ve only just arrived in town, but it’s been ten years since I left Ireland. I just don’t have much call to talk to many people and I’ve never gotten to the point where I want to lose my accent. It’s a part of home for me since I’ve moved.” Padraig ran his finger around the top of his glass.

Frowning, Gareth remembered being at a party and seeing Paddy Monaghan doing the same thing. Maybe it was being St. Patrick’s Day or the color of Padraig’s eyes or simply the fact that he felt lonely even after being in Boston for four years. He didn’t understand the urge he had to talk to this stranger.

“How does a man who looks like a California beach bum get an Irish accent?” He waved the waitress over and ordered another drink. “Would you like another one?”

“Oh God yes.” Padraig sighed.

He laughed at the fervent tone in Padraig’s voice. “I take it you haven’t had a good Irish whiskey in a while.”

“In a decade.” A rueful smile crossed Padraig’s face. “Haven’t had a lot of things in ten years.”

“Why is that?”

“Same reason I look like a surfer but speak like a dock worker, I guess. I’ve been wandering the world and being invisible doesn’t help. It tends to make it difficult to talk to people.” Padraig didn’t look up when the waitress set their drinks down.

Gareth couldn’t stop his laughter from bursting out. “Invisible? Are you serious? There’s no way a hot guy like you could ever be invisible.”

An intriguing blush dusted Padraig’s cheeks and Gareth had the odd urge to brush his thumb over those high cheekbones.

“Come on. You can’t tell me you don’t know how totally gorgeous you are.”

Padraig shrugged, fingering the glass in front of him. “At times when I look in the mirror, it’s like I don’t recognize the face staring back at me.”

Poetry Train #87

One More Minute…

I love you beyond words,
Beyond any ability for
My tongue to say.

I need you beyond thought,
Beyond any chance of
Being independent anymore.

You stole my heart
When I wasn’t looking
And hid it away.

You gave me yours
In return to keep
Forever and a day.

Each day I forget
You weren’t always
With me.

And every minute
I pray for just one
More to spend with you.

-T.A. Chase copyright 2009.

Poetry Train #86

What I’m Looking for…

Arms to hold me tight.
Lips to kiss and taste.
A body to warm me.
A smile to brighten my day.

A mind both brilliant and crude.
A soul both pure and soiled.
A heart both kind and cruel.
A love both lasting and fleeting.

-T.A. Chase copyright c.2009