Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Day Dreams

"Day Dreams"

My home reflects a lost time gone by,

With lacy curtains and oil lamps to read by.

Old photos and flowers are hung on my walls,

But as my mind day dreams another voice calls.

From the final frontier, "where no mans gone before,"

It's always Jim Kirk who knocks on my door.

His hazel green eyes and sandy brown hair,

Make me forget...I'm really not there.

I'm thrust in the future along Jim Kirk's side,

With Zulu and Bones along for the ride.

We're Beamed to a planet where somethings a miss,

I walk with the Captain, and pray for a kiss.

He suddenly turns and says with a smile,

"Beam us up, Mr. Spock...tell Transporter Chief Kile!"

As the Transporter beam hums, I awake with a shock,

As the little bird chirps in my old coo-coo clock!


Misty Oakley


My friend Rose began a blog for her writing. I have long wished to be a writer but really doubt I have a talent for it. I do on occasion write poetry that "I" enjoy. To be perfectly honest, they all seem to have the same cadence of the Night Before Christmas. But I am a firm believer if your art is with paint and clay or paper and pen...it must be done first for the artist who is doing it. Then if someone else likes it...how wonderful! So I will post some of my poetry here and once in a while I'll post others, I have permission to share with you. Thank you Rose...keep writing. You inspire me.http://livingwiccy.blogspot.com/


As the sun leaves the sky, the moon rises above, I wait in my chamber for my one true love.

He is there at my window, bathed in the moonlight...my heart skips a beat as he comes into sight.

As I beckon him in and I nod my consent, he crosses the threshold and makes his descent.

Touching my skin with his cool, smooth hands, I kiss his lips sweetly and I await his demands.

I feel safe and alive, while in his embrace then I look in his eyes as he kisses my face.

There's something within that I can't recognize, it's hidden down deep in the depths of his eyes.

My body betrays me...as he kisses my neck his lips feel like fire as they continue thier trek.

His mouth glides like silk to the pulse of my heart, then with no hint of warning, he halts with a start.

The pain is exquisite, as it floods through my viens, my lips part to scream but in silence I remain.

I lie still as he feeds, his long hair on my breast, I am so sad to find... life's no longer my quest!

By Misty Oakley