My Sweet Black Ambrosia – day 29 of April

My own ambrosia is not a rosy red nectar, but it sure does pick me up, gives me strength and even wings to fly through the day.

The Caribbean nectar given to me in a jaro (tincup) as a child with milk served with toast or warm bread from Kenny bakery.

Teachers would get upset at my non-nutritional breakfast of choice,
but it kept me alert in class until recess.

A plain glass of milk was the daily recommendation. Did I look like a feeble new born?

As child, teenager, college student and now as an adult my sweet black ambrosia is the nectar given to us by the gods of yesteryear.

Can’t pass my local bodega without stopping by to pick up my large clarito with two sugars or on a busy explosive day sweet strong and black like I like my man.

Oh what is it that Bustelo has done to me that Maxwell’s House doesn’t even tickle my fancy.

Upon reaching my 80’s I’ll sit in my comfy rocking chair contemplating my life with a steaming hot jaro of my sweet black ambrosia, just before I get going.

I must always take time to breathe and enjoy my sweet black ambrosia.

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I Am From – day 28 of April- dverse Challenge

I am from elite humble beginnings or maybe even nobility; though born in the western hemisphere my ancestors come from the richness of both Africa and Europe.

I am from a mixture of races and cultures; though here and now people don’t know how to classify me and neither do I know which box to check off to accommodate the curious labelers.

I am from the blazing heat of an island surrounded by the salty sea, majestic tall coconut trees swaying during the day and magnolia trees blossoming their sweet fragrance at night. The land they cultivated to produce sweet mangoes, sugarcane, limoncillos, beans and yucca root to raise their families. The fruit of their love bore the fruit of long back breaking work from before the blazing sun rose till way after it set.

I am from the hungry bustling city that never sleeps; hazy, hot and humid in the summer, frigid, frosted and frozen in the winter, but the autumn and spring bring such vibrant colors full of delightful zephyrs.

I am from the best the world had to offer sweet, spicy, cool, hot, colorful, generous winds from the south, north, east and west. Got to keep moving and educating future gentlemen and ladies of all the love and sacrifice we carry from our past generations to continue to magnificently breeze forward into better orbital latitudes.

What Goodbye? – Day 27 of April

The moon and stars witnessed our goodbye,
but my heart must of stepped off the pier for it did not listen to your words.

The embrace and kisses we shared on the pier we stood upon witnessed our goodbye,
but my mind did not stay on the pier to listen to your words.

The breeze and the waves that passed by witnessed our goodbye,
but my soul must of gone swimming in the river for it did not listen to your words.

Instead I took my heart, mind and soul on a ride on a shooting star way out of the reach the painful words you were saying.

All I can remember on the pier are your sweet kisses,
All I can recollect on the pier is the strength of your arms as you held me.
All I can relive on the pier is the love you showed me in your caresses.

So what goodbye do you speak of when the actions do not match the words spoken?
If you even spoke them?

What goodbye do you speak of?

No Drink is Needed – day 26 of April

No drink is needed to feel drunk from the taste of you.
Oh to see you makes me unsteadily tipsy on my feet.

No drink is needed to feel drunk from the taste of you.
The close proximity of you has my head spinning and it deliriously carries me away.

No drink is needed to feel drunk from the taste of you.
When you brush against me you got me swaying.

No drink is needed to feel drunk from the taste of you.
Mmm to nuzzle your neck and cheek drives me to push you against the wall and breathe you in as my mind is buzzing on the fumes of you.

No drink is needed to feel drunk from the taste of you.
Oh to curl my tongue around your ear lobe as my face gets flushed.

No drink is needed to feel drunk from the taste of you.
Your hands caress mine and lustily I start to see double.

No drink is needed to feel drunk from the taste of you.
My racing heart runs smoothly like a fine aged scotch.

No drink is needed to feel drunk from the taste of you.
Touch my core and the intoxicated rapture of hurricane strength waves crash again and again on the shores of my body and mind.

No stories will ever be told that a drink was my undoing
For you and you alone make me euphorically drunk just from the taste of you.

No drink is needed.

Life Long Affair – day 25 of April

Your fidelity is an enchantment that I relish.
Your devotion is a delight that I cherish.
Your respect is the cause of my involvement.
Your attachment is the striving force of my enjoyment.
Your passion is the predilection of my enthusiasm.
Your praise is the treasure trove of my heart.
But your friendship is the cause of my cherishing fondness and reciprocal affection that if given the inclination the recognition will be regarded as an intimate rendezvous that will lovingly last all of our lives.

Took the word love and its different forms. May it last forever.

Cool Rising Heat – day 24 of April

Fresh from the shower trying to remain cool
Each cool droplet begins to heat up with the rise of my body temperature
No towel to conceal or to absorb the rolling droplets off of me
But I see your eyes devouring each trickle of moisture

Imagine your tongue licking me dry as you leave me wet
Tenderly smooth is my skin as the air dries the excess moisture
Supple under the guidance of your fingers mold-able like clay
I bend where ever you want me to bend

I’m at home with your mouth caressing me
Oh, to have you under or over me creates a great delightful movement
Can you feel the Caribbean beat within my hips
as they sway to the rhythm of your fingers
Fill me, rock me to and fro to impose your primal dominance

Oh, what a waste of a shower; cool water mixes with rising perspiring heat
It’s so hot I contemplate cutting my hair off to keep it off my nape
But the thought of your fingers running through it
To restrain me is enough to wipe the idea off my slate

Oh, such strong magical fingers; I am yours to command at the moment
But no touch is needed for you to master me
All you have to do is pierce me with your eyes
And I become a quivering pool at the ready to fall off the precipice

The flood gates open as your fingers continue to weave a blazing trail
From my head to my feet rows of flames like in an orchard or vineyard set on fire
Running north to south and east to west across the hills and valleys of my body

Oh, what a waste of a shower as the cool rising heat takes over
Never has it been so good this cool rising heat
Cool….Rising….Heat

6/28/2006 – 4/26/2015

Spring – day 23 of April

It’s the season of a pleasant new warm breath as most of the dead ashen bitter frigid air is gone.

The morning radiance causes a glowing flush on all the faces that were hidden numb behind scarves and hooded masks.

The sun is spending more time getting reacquainted with the tall majestic trees coloring everything in blushing whites, bright yellows, and all shades of lively green.

The early rise of the aurora thawing the frozen still river. Its blazing heat lasting longer throughout the day causing a sparkling overflow to rush and gush out to sea.

Those beams of light raising the temperature of the glaciated hard earth, so the flowers can break through and give us more sweet beauty to walk amongst.

Making way to easily feed the bees, butterflies, and the hummingbirds ardently adding another burst of sounds and colors to this gorgeous season of spring.

Thanks dverse for the challenge.