Divorce, Single Parenting, Dating, Sex, & Self-Recovery

Posts tagged “making love to other women

it’s just desire

[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]

dusky-walking-smthis cloud this haze this drugged moment
as if the dark air of loneliness
was escaping with a hiss
around the edges of my heart
breaking the fourth wall of reason
for something more dangerous

an ache
that before was theory
that before involved maps and strategies
there is no strategy for this feeling
no point in burning maps
they are all you know of the shore
the stars above twinkle
as the path winds into darker nights
knowing now what was missing
and if

aiming away from solitude
towards some idea
of risk and feeling
where the wild things are
what hungers
and leaps
in the spaces between touch
and touching
and anticipation of touch
wrestling to pull back the sail
before capsizing the journey
diving into a course
before the destination is shared

it is delirious and delicious
this ambrosia of moments
dreaming you into being
even as your strong signals
say yes
say slow
say hello

a part of our souls
have set sail
even in this imaginary boat together
we’re calling out subtle directions
affirming the small lines we have begun to trace
in the flickering light
of the map room


arriving at any time

stormy-sky-stoplight-2[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]

the heart is a bright and shining mystery
of potential to love and soar
in my clean and steady state
i listen and sound
for the edges and tempers and colors
and the join
that is sure to come
with my patience and persistence
she could be arriving at any time
even as storms and floods rage
obscuring signals
deflecting our trajectories
in the night
but seeking is also freedom
limitless and utter romance
has flavors yet unimagined
until her smile flashes
walks in the room
and says
what’s next


and you are alight

you are alight - poetry - the off parent[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]

i am holding an open door
without demands or expectations
there is joy inside and music
an easy repose and repartee
to adjust your daily muse
and moods of blue and red and black
all find voice
and comfort
it is a symphony i seek
where the orchestrations are by choice
and desire
and hope
you are invited
to begin a journey
to join in with harmonies and melody
to sing with your own voice
i listen
i have grown tired of my own solos
even as I work to keep the wind vigorous
i am ready to throw open the windows too
and let the weather change everything
push the papers, sheets, and past around
and reconfigure magic
into madness of spirit
higher and brighter
and towards a still point
of such balance
where striving stops again
you have known this peace
where ambition is paired with contentment
as best of friends
and the flex and stretch
comes from energy and joy
and you are alight


image: used via creative commons, Doorway in Muslim district in Ajmer

i am wrapping pillows

i am wrapping pillows - the off parent

[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]

this is the morning of love and hope and possibilities
when the cold is an offer of snuggles and warm drinks
where the fog seems to be lifting
even when there is no shore in sight
waking up with pets rather than lovers
or children to feed and hug

this is the hope i will never give up
and the longing i will always answer
and the chill i hope to rub red
and the song of my heart i continue to sing

the world is waking up
and so am i
in this soupy and mysterious morning
she is waking up too
maybe she has the warmth
or maybe she has given up seeking
for light beyond the love of her children
maybe she’s on opposite weekends
well snuggled while i am wrapping pillows

no worry
this hope burns away the covering clouds
revealing hope again
and sun
joy in the chill
and the opportunity it brings
to love
and love again
warmed again
from within this time

there is no need for her for me
we are autonomous and solid
there is not a repair that needs a man’s strength
she has found that alone again
becoming her whole parent
there is nothing missing
but me
and she may not believe
she may not speak my name

the chill is lifted today
and the fog is blown to the edges of our vision
if the hope remains
that is enough
and the memory
of what a joyful touch felt like


magnetic joy

[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]

my sly grin and magnetic joy
what i am perfecting, in this loneliness
i have not grown tired of the pursuit
only the futility of my demands


Bladerunner's Beauty

peacefully anticipating someone

wing tattoos

[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]

we don’t have much time
and all the time in the world lies before us
it is about what we choose
who we are to become
and what cast of characters we’d like to
write into the next scene

i sit here
type type typing
and you there
type type typing
working for a living
and a moment
and the space

if we choose something else
we have decided
if ‘maybe’ is the constant answer
no is the result

i am not saying this
i am typing this
i am afraid
to say

i want you
to crave you
to have and to
it might be easy
but only time will tell
this time
that tics and clicks away
beneath our fingers
across the backs of our wings

i have known flight
and i can remember what that feels like
the ground is no place for dreamers
and lovers

perhaps the lover in you is still obscured
or perhaps it is me

any moment
is every moment
and without you
they are alone

but alone

i am ready to be not-alone

i imagine smelling your neck
and the coarseness of your toes after a long walk
the dampness

this rain comes
blows and goes
this breath returns again and again

i am singing as loud as i know how
but i am still learning
i am working on it


you must work on yourself
and the lover you may become
if you want to

i can ask

i can sing, and swoop, and dip
i fly nearby
i flutter

i type type type
you type type type
but the words are not for each other

the words
the wings
the wind beneath my heart
peacefully anticipating

arriving here again
at patience


you’re a song i want to sing

love poem - your a song I want to sing - john mcelhenney

love poem - your a song I want to sing - john mcelhenney[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]

you’re a song i want to sing
a mode of being I want to embrace
you’re like middle c
a shore to my ocean
moving into and out of you
without touching
never, not touching

you’re a song i want to sing
in a key of life i’ve never known
and words are no match for the feeling
and the feeling is no indicator of the depth
there’s so little information
and yet, so much to the sweep and sound
of your voice, breath, breathing
like waves and whispers

you’re a song I want to sing
and i can’t decide where to begin
and that’s okay

you never end
as we drift and ebb


creating believing solo

this is me creating, believing, solo[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]

i aimed another poem at her again last night
and loosed it like a prayer
somewhat unsure of my intention
less sure of who she might be
what she might like

there are no limits in pursuit
in anticipation of the join
i am full
and full of myself
in love
in this state
at the edge of the unknown

with time as an unlimited resource
a currency more precious and rare
and even the idea of you
becomes a sail i can ride
a wordstream love jam of song

this is me creating



modern love notes

modern love notes - poem

[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]

leaving just enough silence between us
wondering what you’re doing, thinking, feeling
i hold my tongue and text and messages of love
this can be nothing more than my own reflection
seeking a replacement, and shelter, and song
surely love does not ignite with such simplicity
a puppy love, a projection, a trajectory of my own imagination

i seek messages in the clouds and stars at night
and i listen on all channels
erasing and deleting






because it is too soon
and you are busy, and beautiful, and pleasurable
to all around you
and when I am
given the chance
i will breathe you in
i will hesitate just a little
i will tease back at the growing heat








travel together

bringing your own train

[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]

when she trained her blue eyes on me and asked

“are you checking me out?”
i knew i had been snagged
at a game i most definitely wanted to be caught at
and she smiled


she wanted to know how she’d done
and her eyes matched her blue shirt
and her smile revved the tempo of my heart
for a beat

“you did quite well, i mean…”

the words are not what escaped me
i paused to slow down and savor the moment

“i was”

and though there was distance and a table between us
we were pressed as close together as we’d ever been
“i’ve discovered that adoration is what grows
over time… and that may be what love is for me…


“and were you checking me out?”
“not when you first arrived…
not until I saw that you were checking me out…”
guide rails: physical touch and emotional depth
unexplainable chemistry: “I could look at you forever”

and when all concepts and frameworks fail
develops the opportunity
to travel together



twist of the hip

[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]

i don’t need a woman
i crave a woman who knows and wants to love
deeply, fearlessly, without regret
i can pick her out of a crowded bar
the one out of the thirty women there
i imagine she is putting out her vibes
that she is looking at me too

in the lights and live music she is probably just watching the crowd
but there she is
the one woman for me within this tight radius
we could both be lucky
so much information in the way a woman
moves to the music
even from a chair
it is the same way she will make love
in the world outside
her dance is even more important

is her step and life filled with sensuous motion
from the body flows the soul
they cannot hide from one another
she cannot hide from me

i will ask
i will know
i will press into dark places without request
but her body has a love language
i am eager to learn
and her spiritual state will be laid bare

in a single glance and the twist of the hip
the path forward is open and necessary
yet i still know…
that all of this…
that all… of… this…
all of this…
poetry is projection
she is warm, willing, and at a show
on some early Saturday evening
she moves and her signals wash over me


poetry from the off parent

after the state of getting

[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]

she had the most beautiful shoes i’d ever seen
and she stepped out of them like a fragile animal
on alert
she had arrived ready
she knew what she wanted
fear and excitement can seem as the same

in this moment, there was no mistaking
the flutter from the fever
there would be no flight
except into the snare of my lips
and bed and

knowing, wanting, and getting
are very different states
in the state of getting
the little black dress was simple and sexy
and expendable

any description here would break the spell
spoil the mystery
and the mysterious sacred journey of lovemaking

as she was putting the beautiful shoes back on
i couldn’t help but watch
the snare released, the quarry smiling and unhurried
her pretty legs now moving with a new tremor
released, relaxed, satisfied for a brief moment
we were together
we are not

and the afternoon becomes a wash

memories and smells overwhelm all obligations
in my daydream stare out the window
i notice movement in the grass
and notice my sleepiness
i return to the bed


sexy beautiful shoes - the off parent