Tag: Writers

Destination Allure — An Erotica (Short Story)

At this height, the balcony is slightly concealed from the public gaze. I purposely asked for the top floor, to look over the city and beyond. And also, to become a witness to this Cuban pink-orange sunset. The atmosphere was a little humid during the summer months, so I removed my clothing, took a cool shower. Then, I threw on an emerald green satin robe while my dark copper tone figure was still damp and dewy. My dark brown hair was dripping wet, with kinky, coil ringlets going down my neck, back, and breasts.

At first, The soothing West Indian breeze made me close my eyes as I stood up against the balcony. I inhaled the air and I was filled with the awakening of all my senses. The smell of Latin foods and spices, the light chatter from passerby’s below me, and the touch of the stacked stones that made up the balcony conjured something seductive about this scenery. At the moment, I was at a loss of words as to what it was that was guiding me–but it made my hands move sensually. They made a trail starting from my face, down to my neck, and cupping my buxom bosoms before I softly pressed my nipples with my fingers. They became erect and it made my honey pot throb. I found the chair closest to the glass sliding doors of the balcony and sat. With my mouth slightly agape, I took in an intense breath. I dared to touch my central part, under my robe, and between my lean and curvy thighs. My right hand and fingers found their way to that incited area and my eyes slid half-mast, as I am aroused.

A gust of wind caressed my robe and nudges my breasts delicately. The robe’s fibers grazing the nipple, as my right breast became exposed to the elements. I whined, at first and tried to cover my curvaceous bust, but an assertive force revealed my physique undoing the thin sash of my wrap. At this point, I should be alarmed but I was so impassioned that I pressed my fingers against my bud and massaged it even further. Elevating my breathing, in swells and falls as I came close to climax. This made me thrust my hips up, my buttocks tightened and raised from the seat, as I fervently peaked in satiated ecstasy.

This original blog post was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her in January 2021 (C)

Dream: Caves to Alternate Realities

Most of this dream I can not recollect but what I can remember, I will write as much as I can so that it makes sense. We all understand that most dreams may not make sense or may make sense while you are in the dream state.

I found myself in a barren cave made of dark brown-red clay. I seem to have been wandering, lonely for some time it seems. There seemed to have been a mission I was on, but as time passed, I forgot. Along the way throughout the cave system, entrance off the main path. Curiosity took me to enter the path, a dark hole in the wall. On the other side was a lighted enclave which was also made of the same dark brown-red clay, except there was a forest. There was a flourish of weeping willow trees and vines with purple-pink flowers all over them, and there was a breeze. I don’t know where it came from and turned abruptly to exit from where I came. Back into the cave system.

The cave was not cramped in most paths but spacious enough for me to walk upright without my head crazing against the roof. In some portions of the cave, the roof was easily twenty feet high. As I walked further, I found that the cave had wildlife that roamed the length of it, mammoths, to be precise. They were huge and shaggy with long hairs that also matched the color of the cave walls. They could stand still and you would not notice them, but when they move, you could hear, see and feel their presence. Why mammoths? Not sure why my psyche pulled an extinct creature into my dreams but the mind has a way of showing you things and manifesting symbolism in their place.

That’s all I can remember…my subconscious will reveal itself in another dream state, soon.

This original blog post was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her in January 2021 (C)

Unfinished Business at Hollow Manor – A Short Story

A few weeks ago my mother was lowered into her final resting place of the EverGreen Memorial Park. My three siblings and I surrounded the hollowed burial place to mourn her passing. As I stood there with glass tears in my eyes, my mind filled with the bittersweet memories that still held images of my mother—her presence, her voice, her hugs, kisses, her love.

After the somber ceremony we went to my mother’s home. She hadn’t moved since we all lived together decades ago. Reluctantly, we walked into the house. None of us wanted to be there, but mom left some loose ends and we couldn’t decide who would be the one to tie them, so we all decided to work together. The house looked as if it was vacant for months—no dishes in the sink, brown house plants, stack of newspapers sitting on the coffee table. None of us were ever really good with keep up with her, so mom’s illness came as a total surprise for us. In some semblance of respect for her, we pooled money together to hire home care nurses to watch her. Some of us—two of us, came to visit on a monthly bases. Her passing was still a surprise, however. We separated and each took a room to complete. The emotions flowed heavily as we sorted and collected forgotten memories of our lives—joys, disappointments, successes and regrets.

By the time we were done going through all the things that once mattered, the feeling of a life long lived seemed to flow about. It was her home. It was our home. Even though she’s gone, It will always feel like our home. We all lived most of our lives there. Some of us grew up, left, returned and left again. Our very beings were forged within those walls. As we gathered in the black SUV, still shedding our tears, our hearts were full. But grief took us in waves. I sat in the passenger seat, watching our home shrink away on the horizon and I smiled through the grief. I smiled as the happiness followed us from behind.

Credit to Jae Davis, as Editor of this story.

This original blog post was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her in January 2021 (C)

Poem: Dark and Light

Time has a night and day

In between, I have given all that I can

Especially offered my heart

Which has been eaten as though it was an apple

Masticated, swallowed and digested

Never let that heart fall into the hands

Of someone hungry for theft

But without care for that which they hoard

Love being taken for granted

Left out in the cold

Is the coldest darkest night

This original blog post was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her in January 2021 (C)

Blog: Soundtrack Of Our Lives

Music today does not have the same impression on me as the music from the 80s and 90s. It is hard to find inspiration in just booty shaking, clout chasing and corny puppy love songs. Music back in the day was more relatable, it felt real and even inspired you in many ways.

There are a few songs that I would like to add to a playlist for a soundtrack of my life. Songs that still make my heart sing, rave or dance. Songs that remind me of love making, lost love and finding a new love.

1. Doo Wop (that thing) – Lauryn Hill

2. Bitter Sweet Symphony- The Verve

3. Ex-Factor – Lauryn Hill

4. Waterfalls – TLC

5. Truly, Madly, Deepy -Savage Garden

6. This is How We Do It – Montell Jordan

7. Don’t walk away – Jade

8. Gonna Make You Sweat – C+C Music Factory

9. All Around The World – Lisa Stanfield

10. Baby Got Back – Sir Mix-a-lot

Baby Got Back is a favorite at Karaoke bars all over. So don’t give me the stick eye for that one. You’ve heard the song before, you cannot deny how catchy it is and even of you can’t rap, you’d still singalong.

All of my soundtrack tunes have significance in certain parts of my life. What are your top ten songs that make up the soundtrack of your life?

This original blog post was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her in January 2021 (C)

TOUCH HUNGRY: CHAPTER ONE – SHORT STORY

Frankia Krane collected the small shovel, potting soil and a terra cotta planter pot set from the garden supply shop. She took her time looking at all the indoor plants in the nursery. There was a vivid array of selections all about her and every time she passed a plant she wants that very one, then two steps ahead she would fall in love with another plant.

She finally came upon a plant that was very unique from the others. The leaves were similar to that of a snake plant or Dracaena Trifasciata. Snake plants usually have speckles of green and cream colors, naturally detailed in natural waves and ripples with long, tall blades for leaves that look as though they want to reach for the sky. The only difference is that the other plant bared leaves with a texture like that of a lizard or reptile, with splotches in spectrums of browns and greens, with varying tones commencing from the very tips of the leaf to where it connected to its roots, hidden in the rich dark brown soil. The tag on the pot read, Dracaena Valiveal, also known as the Sliver Leaf Plant.

As though the plant’s leaf was charmed, Frankia instantly became compelled to caress the Sliver plant’s leaves. The texture of the leaves instantly incited an emotional response from Frankia. While she stood there near the table, stroking the leaves of this two-foot tall plant, she did not care if anyone was watching her. Though not far in distance, the store clerk, an aged woman stood watching her as she smoothed and massaged the plant’s blossoms. A cooing sound escaped Frankia’s lips, and a calm and nurturing feeling washed over her mind and body. She was not consciously aware of herself in this moment. There was also a cautionary note below this plant’s name that read, “please do not touch.”

“Excuse me ma’am, can I help you” The older woman who was on staff at the garden shop offered.

“I was looking for a new houseplant…and I think I found the perfect one!” Frankia responded.

“Well,” said the employee, “This one is a new species, similar to the snake plant that its origins are from the Congo Basin.”

“Congo? You mean in Africa? Well…”

The clerk spoke abruptly. “Oh yes. They both have origins in that region of Africa but the Sliver Leaf grows specifically in Equatorial Guinea, deep in the rainforest…growing wild, but still very rare.”

Frankia only blinked, then her attention went back to the plant.

“Oh and please do not touch it. Just water occasionally and we have a specific liquid…serum that helps with its nourishment. If you would like to purchase it, I’m available to receive your payment.” The little old lady said then motioned towards the direction of the cash register. Frankia immediately picked up the plant pot and followed the little old lady to the front of the garden shop.

TO BE CONTINUED…😬

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER TWO

This original blog post was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her in January 2021 (C)

All What It Seems -Poetry

Camera poised for poses of smiles and laughter

Concealing a union’s sunset

In a horizon of demise

Portraits foreshadowing tragedy

The fights that brewed and rumbled before

The capture of curled lips with crooked intentions

Memories to play the perfect role

For an audience of none

All rights go to Juana M. Gumbs as her original poem. 01/04/2021

Poem: Focus On The Good

While the bombs go off about me

While the time-lapse scurries by

And my clothing drenched with mud and tears

And I

Just wondering while wandering

What happened

How I’d forget the details too

All the motions and how they connect

Through the motions, through duress

The distant bombs still tell of danger

And in this greatly catastrophic time

I found a crevice to hide, bound

And binding

Licking wounds encrusted with dirt and tears and blood

In belief that if I do so

Then perhaps all of this is dream

Not fact

The rights to this poem goes to Juana M. Gumbs as of 01/03/2021

12/7/2020 #Untitled Poem

Here comes night

I, tortured

Fighting sleep again

Which becomes

Too familiar

To the demon, Death

And falling, falling

Memories lost to a trickling end

But alive outside the reaches

Of the outer realms beyond me

Lost sense of self

Obliterated by the varied roles

In dynamic technicolor

Steadily played like

Keys on a Casio.

Everything is melodic until…

Every key harmonizing

Crescendoing into tones of doom

Who am I this time?

Time the illusionist

With it comes lessons learned

Titled the best trickster

The foe and if grasped right

The fiend that swallows

All semblance of your sanity