Archive for Poetry Train
Poetry Train..
Here’s a poem for you all. Stop by Rhian’s blog to see where else you can go to check out great stories, poems, songs or whatever everyone has decided to post for the Train ride today. 🙂
Darkness over takes him
He hears a mournful sigh
He looks but sees no one
He didn’t know angels cried
Sunlight finds him hidden
Flush with life again
Twilight enfolds the city
His hunt begins
He feels his anguish
He feels his pain
He tastes his flesh
Only joy to gain
Darkness over takes him
He hears a mournful sigh
He looks but sees no one
He didn’t know angels cried
Centuries have passed
Still he lives
Hiding from light
Taking what the darkness gives
Remorse had taken hold
In the emptiness of his soul
He longs for death
He longs to be made whole
Darkness over takes him
He hears a mournful sigh
He looks but sees no one
He didn’t know angels cried
His ice flesh is now ash
His soul once more free
He stands at a fork in the path
What will his choice be?
Hope everyone enjoys. Have a great Monday. 🙂
Poetry Train..
breezes chase each othertears run down a face
laughter haunts the paths
we must follow where it leads
lending wisdom to the false
lending stupidity to the truth
asking what we have to do
only makes us vulnerable
is this what our life must be
an endless search for nothing
questioning everything and
believing everyone
killing the one we love
fucking the one we hate
a vision quest of anger
a journey of hopelessness
Not a very happy poem, but still one I like and it sort of fits the dark dreary weather we’re having today. Stop by Rhian’s blog today to check out the other stops on the Poetry Train.
Have a great day.
Poetry Train..
Naked of all but my dreams.
The stars laugh at me.
They were what I am now.
I am a dreamer who hasn’t learned about dreams.
I know that the dreams I have have no place in this world.
But they have no place any where.
Dreams are the madness the mind creates when it needs peace.
Dreams are the child who makes faces in the clouds.
That child streaks naked across the sky as I do.
Will it get burned?
What chance has that child to survive the madness its mind has created?
It will join the rest of the stars and burn out.
Dreams are the very air we breath.
The very particles we are made up of are dreams.
Whose madness has created us?
copyright (c)2007 T.A. Chase
Also, stop by Liquid Silver Books tonight around 6 to pick up Lisa Andel’s newest release Demon Hunting. I’ll give you a link when it goes live. 🙂
Poetry Train…
Happy Monday and glad you’ve stopped by to catch the Poetry Train. Hop over to Rhian’s to check out the other stops on this train. 🙂 I thought I’d give you all a peek at what I wrote yesterday for the SEx’s Flash Fiction. That way you don’t have to scroll through the 338 comments to find the little scenes I posted.
Title: Sharks in the Water (working title…lol)
We stand at the edge of the sand where the waves pound the shore. I drop our towels in a pile next to the backpack, pulling out my camera.
I bury my toes in the sand, snapping pictures as he paddles out beyond the breakers. A huge wave rolls in and he stands, weaving and bobbing as the water undulates under him. Without looking, I reach down and adjust my hard on. Watching him turns me on. There is pure awe in seeing a creature do what it is born to do.
Someone stops next to me. I glance over at the skinny kid and then back to where
“Hey mate, there’s sharks out there, ya know.”
I grunt and roll my eyes. Of course there are sharks out there. It’s
“Guy stopped by yesterday. Said there were two big ones spotted at this beach a few days ago.”
I nod.
“You might want to let him know.”
I nod, but it won’t make any difference.
“Mate, did ya hear me?”
I gesture to where
The kid shrugged and then shook his head. “Aren’t ya worried about them?”
“They’re always around. Swim with them and you won’t fear them.” I pick the camera up, snapping more pictures of
He waves to me and through my zoom lenses I see the brilliant smile on his face. Happiness gleams in his bright green eyes like we’ve just had sex. I shift on the sand, looking forward to going home and helping him wash all that salt water off.
A movement behind
“Fuck. A shark.” The kid waves his arms, trying to catch
“He can’t hear you, mate.” I stand and move towards the edge of the water, sand warming beneath my feet.
The kid starts to run past me and I grab his arm, jerking him back onto the beach with me. “Dumb ass, he sees them.”
“You didn’t get your bandage wet, did you, love?” He ignores the kid standing next to us.
“I didn’t. How big were they?” I’m eager to hear what he says.
“The biggest was probably the same size that nailed you.”
“You got bit by a shark?” The kid stares at me in shock.
I grimace. It isn’t a story I’m happy to relate. “It was my own damn fault. I knew better, but no, I had to go for the shot. A twenty foot great white came up to grab the bait we had resting in the water. I leaned forward, slipped and she nailed my leg. I’m lucky it wasn’t a straight on bite or she would have taken my leg off.”
“What the hell kind of sightseeing trip were you on?”
“You like sharks, mate?”
We’d forgotten about the kid. I grin at
The kid walks away, shaking his head and mumbling about crazy people. I’m glad that he’s left before realizing who
“I want to go back out,” he pouts.
I trace his lips and he sucks the tip of one into his warm moist mouth. I moan a little, feeling the lick of his tongue over the pad of my finger.
“There’s water back at home we can play in without worrying about sharks.” I wink.
“Go on,” I tell him, checking my watch. “You have another hour or so before I have to be back at the house.”
He gives me another hard kiss. “Thanks, love.” Turning, he dashes out into the rolling water, surfboard clasped to his side.
“Keep an eye on those sharks,
He waves back at me in acknowledgment. The kid thinks we’re crazy because we don’t fear sharks, but it’s hard to explain to a stranger. Sharks don’t bother us.
I’ve swum with all the large shark species. All those deemed man-eaters and could kill me with one bite. I swim protected by a cage or out in the deep water without any protection. Except for this most recent incident, I’ve never been bitten either. The sharks come to us, but not to bite or eat. They come to acknowledge us. To accept us into their domain. I’ve never felt fear when I’m around them.
It might have something to do with the strange dreams
Poetry Train…
Here’s a little scene I wrote up. It goes along with the story I wrote yesterday for the Flash Fiction Sunday at SEx. It’s dark and a little scary…lol. Very different from what I’ve written before. Enjoy.
“I won’t beg.” The large auburn haired man glares at me.
I chuckle, circling the kneeling man. I love seeing this strong man bound in front of me. His muscled arms are tied behind him with a thin gold chain, hooked to a wide black leather collar around his neck. I reach out, running my finger down from the point where my captive’s pulse pounds at the base of his throat to the middle of his chest.
“Hmm…no begging, huh?” I grin at him.
“Your kind lives for causing pain, Archelaus.” His teeth grind together as he shivers.
“My kind? My dear man, you have never run into my kind before.” I trace a line from one nipple to the other, encouraging those little pieces of flesh to harden.
A huge shudder wracks the man’s body. I pinch and twist, watching him with a half-lidded stare. His pale skin flushes and I glance down to see my plaything’s cock stiffen. He shifts, trying to move away from me, but he couldn’t.
Hope you enjoy it. Stop by Rhian’s blog to see who else has joined in the poetry train.
Have a great Monday.
Poetry Train….
Marsden looked up from where he sat, eating breakfast to meet Beng’s statement with a frown. “Are you sure it’s God?”
“Who else would thrust that beautiful boy into my path with such malicious glee?” Beng filled a plate with eggs and sausage. He sat at the table with his friend.
Pouring a cup of coffee and pushing it over to Beng, Marsden laughed. “That boy is only four years younger than you. And considering everything he’s been through the past month, I hardly think it’s correct to call him that.”
He glared at Marsden. “I’m trying to keep things from spinning out of control, friend. If I think of him as a boy, then I’m less likely to do something we will all regret.”
“Master David is a rather fine looking young man.” Marsden stopped when Beng held up his hand.
“Who has just been rescued from a horrifying situation. Don’t push me, Marsden. London and society doesn’t look fondly on my kind. They might turn a blind eye on rich titled men playing games as long as it isn’t out in the light of day, but they wouldn’t ignore me.” He shoved his plate away and picked up his cup. Standing, he moved towards the hallway and his study.
“You’re rich and titled. Why would you be any different than the rest of the sodomites who live in this town?” Marsden gathered the plates on a tray.
“I’m different because I’m a half-breed gypsy boy. They don’t forgive or forget differences like that.” He continued down the hall, missing the sigh his friend gave.
In the study, he stood in front of the fireplace and stared up at the painting above the mantle. “Why did I think coming back here was a good idea? I didn’t know homesickness could cause a total loss of sanity.”
The man in the painting remained silent. He went and sat down, dropping his head to rest on the desk. Closing his eyes, the image of David sprawled in his bed popped up in his mind. Dark curls the color of coffee graced his pillow. The younger man’s pale skin looked as smooth as silk.
Beng shot straight up in his chair and whirled around. He was becoming a bloody poet. Soon he’d be wearing shirts with ruffles and running around composing sonnets to David’s eyelashes. The day he did that, he’d shoot himself.
Movement outside distracted him and he moved closer to the window. The gardener was back. The worker was a few years older than Beng, but his tanned face and body held a masculine strength Beng always admired. His gaze focused on the man’s ass.
He imagined stalking out into the yard and bending the man over. Those coarse pants tore under his hands. He spread firm cheeks and drove his prick deep into the man’s ass. Its snug grip gloved him. He rubbed his shaft through his trousers. A moment later, the stillness of the gardener brought Beng out of his daydream.
The man was looking back over his shoulder at him with a knowing gleam in his eyes. Relief ripped through Beng when he realized the sill of the window blocked the man from seeing Beng fondle his groin. A quirk of the eyebrow told Beng the man wouldn’t be opposed to taking a break and having a quick roll in the flowerbeds. With a sharp shake of his head, Beng broke eye contact and turned away.
Scrubbing his shaking hand over his face, he groaned. He knew better than to let anyone find out his secret. He’d learned the hard way how to keep his impulses under control at all times. Four years of waking up in opium dens or back alleys and having no idea what he’d done to get there created a huge scar on his soul. He’d eaten garbage. Robbed people who couldn’t afford the loss. He’d watched friends die without shedding a tear, but with a great deal of laughter. Men had done things to him and he allowed their touch because they paid him in opium.
Poetry Train…
Today’s Poetry Train is another excerpt from The Gypsy Devil. (The regency I posted the first scene from last Monday.) 🙂 I had a migraine yesterday, so I didn’t get a chance to write something new for everyone. I hope you enjoy this one.The Gypsy Devil (c) 2007 TA Chase
Excerpt:
The fire crackled. Flames danced in an orange and red swirl. Beng sprawled in the chair in front of the fireplace. A glass dangled from his fingers. Whiskey lurked around the edge, threatening to spill.
Without taking his gaze from the flames, he held out his drink. “You might as well drink it. No need to waste good whiskey. I’m not sure why Marsden insists on pouring me a glass when he knows I won’t drink it.”
A hand emerged from the shadows, taking it. “Maybe he hopes to have it after you go to bed. How did you know I’d come in?” Shade sat down in the chair next to him.
Beng laughed. “Marsden can have some whenever he wants. He doesn’t need to sneak them. When you opened the door, the fire leaned your way for a second.”
Shade nodded. “Most people wouldn’t have noticed.”
“True, but we both know I’m not like most people.” Beng looked at his friend.
Shade’s dark hair was cut short. His olive skin glowed gold in the fire light. Except for eye color, they could pass for brothers. Shade’s eyes were a jade green, shining with all the mysteries of that same stone. Beng’s own eyes were such a light blue, he’d been told they looked white at times.
Dark circles graced Shade’s thin face. He was skinnier than the last time Beng had seen him.
“You work too hard, my friend,” he muttered.
Exhaustion blurred the spy’s green eyes. “Working until my body collapses is the only way to find peace sometimes.”
Understanding what Shade meant kept him quiet. Some ghost was riding the man hard. Beng could feel the weight of those memories in the room.
“I heard
“Yes. He left to escape rumors.” Shade drank the liquor in one quick swallow.
“And to spy on Napoleon, no doubt.”
Shade’s head shot up and Beng met the cold stare with one of his own.
“Why would you think that?”
“Most of the Ton are idiots, my friend, but don’t make the mistake of thinking I am as well.” Beng shifted, turning his gaze back to the fire. “I know there’s more to the duke than being a simple widower. Who is the young man traveling with him?”
“A young man he has befriended and is escorting to
He didn’t heed it. “You’re doing it again. The duke has the same tendencies I do. Only he has less control over them.” He frowned. “Or maybe it is simply the duke has more courage to face the truth than I.”
Shade sighed. “You’re right. The young man is
“It’s been known to happen.” Beng’s gaze made its way to the portrait above the mantle. A stern older man glared from the painting like he was challenging the world. “I’ve seen love in the strangest places.”
They were silent for a few minutes, remembering. Shade grunted.
“What do you want?”
Beng shut his eyes. “I need you to keep an ear open for me. It won’t interfere in your other business. Just while you travel about, listen for any gossip concerning a young lord who has gone missing.”
“Missing?” A glance was shot his way. “We know what that usually means.”
“Yes, we do, but I’d like to try and find him or at least find out what happened to him.” He pointed to his desk behind him. “His brother had some other men searching for David. No luck, but maybe a clue or two.”
“I’m willing to help you out.” Shade stood, dropped a hand on Beng’s shoulder before moving to gather the reports. “I’ll send you news if I find any information.”
“Thanks, my friend.” He didn’t stand or turn when the door opened and Shade left.
Making his way up to his bedroom, Beng thought about his friend. There was a man haunted by experiences in the past. He said a silent pray and hoped Shade found peace.
__________________________________________________________________So I hope you enjoyed getting a glimpse of Shade-if you’ve read Angel’s Evolution, you’ll know who he is. He does play a bigger role in this story, but he still hasn’t found the man to make him forget Jonathan.
Have a great Monday.
