Love Sounds Like You

*Short poem spells*

Eyes large as full moons

I can see my future in them

They must be gods

–

Paint me in those tones of light/dark

Capture my crests and flow

Reinforcing immortality

–

From cravings

Dig and sow

Where you grow trees

With fruit ripe from my buds

–

Empty your own life-force

Into me

Infinity being

–

Blooms peak

Ripe with aphrodisia

As your rose colored lips part

Uttering all into creation

This original poem (poetry) is written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her in July 2021 (C)

False Memory Is Everything – Poetry

Thought a man

That one day he would thrive

Formulate and populate

Then expand

Imagine it thoroughly

To the extent

That he will fly upon it

Caress notions with textures from it

Unlike any he has ever touched

Still

Unable to pick it like fruit from his whitered psyche to supply those deemed worthy

But by then

Life took its final stand

And he lost time and forgot he put it all away

Now the world will never catch a glimpse of it

Or have felt

Or have known of its existence

Or even inclined to provide it vigor

At this point.

This original poem (poetry) is written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her in May 2021 (C)

Agony, My Friend In The Dark – A Collection of Haiku Poems

Warning: if misery is a current mood, do not read any further.

1. Agony, my friend

In the dark corner, surmise

My impending doom

2. Misfortune mature

In an Amalgamation

Evoking anguish

3. Great cloud of twilight

Which creeps in subtle states from

Dawn to dusk, untouched

4. Bloodline curse bestowed

Upon the fated bastard

Begat of brute loins

5. Deep the jaws of grief

That devours contentment,

To shit out despair

6. Divine fortune ebbed

As chance flees this dastardly

Game of existence

7. Vast tree, forsaken

The branch siphoned of majic

‘Til none prevail

8. Life manufactures

Anguish with every angle

No matter the trend

9. Nightmares manifests

From much dismay and peril

Dwindling all our hope

10. Suckle my pain out

From this broken place, derived

From all this sadness

These original poems are written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her in March 2021 (C)

Muse of Mine —A Villanelle (Poem)

I now know the singular purpose of his lips
As his whispers form and conjure spells
In response, my chalice overflows, he is thirsty and sips

A Drinking in bits of me and sweet lusting, touching my hips Sultry brown eyes engaged for the longing mood compels
I now know the singular purpose of his lips

Kisses so rare, so sublime creating heart skips My marvel monarch invoking while incites In response, my chalice overflows, he is thirsty and sips

A His Charm speak more powerful than the sunlight His presence on par with those celestial beings I now know the singular purpose of his lips

Intentions bold, sets me on fire, as this muse fits
He is skillfully undoing inhibitions parting thighs In response, my chalice overflows, he is thirsty and sips

Touch, the love language he speaks, alluring me
The moon comes closer to glimpse, listens and tells
I now know the singular purpose of his lips
In response, my chalice overflows, he is thirsty and sips

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

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)

Blog: Is This Working?

I was given a writing prompt to describe eating fruit in four paragraphs, with the absence of revealing the fruit by name or color. I did create four paragraphs for this challenge but, I felt no end in sight. Here is the first paragraph:

“My mouth watered profusely as I stared and waited on the store clerk to peel, cut, and cube the sugary honey-hued flesh. The lush ripen husk bore an overflow of sticky juices that ran down the blade that sliced it. The scene caused a ruckus in my abdomen, pangs for hunger called out of my being. I looked around then consciously brought my hand over my stomach—as though commanding it to simmer.”

I’ve been doing writing challenges for the entire month of January, to improve my writing skills or using writing as a way to explore my talent. Writing prompts have been very helpful and I’m trying to diversify, writing in different genres and styles in order to find a niche.

This week I’ll do journaling instead of fiction. I’m very free spirited and the rigors of writing in a certain context is waring me out. It’s only been two weeks, I’m fatigued. Let me try this writing challenge from a different perspective…

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)

TOUCH HUNGRY: CHAPTER THREE – SHORT STORY

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER ONE

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER TWO

At the end of the work day, Frankia came home to relax, but first, the plants need to be tended to, watered and touched. Plant care created such a sense of tranquility and oxygen production within her studio apartment. During her encounters as a plant mama, she would feel her mood lighten up while the connection and appreciation of nature heightens. Touching all the plants reminded her of how precious life is, daily.

As she observed each plant she realized something. The Sliver Leaf blades were taller, it was not a drastic change but subtle.All the plants seemed to have shrunk…perhaps. She wasn’t sure now, that in one night one plant grew or the others became smaller. Her instincts told her to measure the mysterious flora that she purchased and see if her suspicions were correct. Immediately, she picked up a sheet of white paper, a pencil and measuring tape to record the data. The tallest leaf blade was 16.4 inches long.

Then suddenly, her fingers grazed the Sliver Leaf and she was paralyzed, frozen in her retreat. Everything within her was still, her heartbeat escalated. She thought, “what is happening?” She could not tell how long she was standing perpetually in place. It felt as though she was under a spell, which made her as a stone statue. The light from the window, declined into dusk as she stood. After what seemed like an eternity, she could feel her body slowly relieved of this hold.

When her body was, once again, fully in her own control, a sense of panic filled her chest. Confusion flooded her thoughts: Was it the plant that caused this reaction? How could a plant do this? No, no I may have to go see a doctor, I may be sick. She thought. Denial, disbelief and rationalizing what happened during this incident made her slow her movements and gently lower herself to sit on her couch. She was exhausted but decided to move towards the bed within her studio space to lay down. Surprisingly, she was able to drift to sleep as soon as her head laid on her pillow. Deep slumber took her and she did not realize that this was part of the enchantment.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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)