IMMOLATION

The clock is ticking, I'm restless tonight,
Aching mind and body, is the timing right?
Trapped behind a wall of my own construct.
For so long hidden, for too long tucked,
Away and safe, frozen in pain.
A thawing now, but much to gain,
From heating up, beginning to crumble.
But when it melts, I'll take a stumble.
The ice and shards won't hold much longer.
I want to prove I can be stronger.

Do you hold the key, will you soon unlock,
The emotions, fears I've had to block.
Everything that's been chained for years?
Or is all I'll have just fresh new tears.
Will your new bindings leave me unbound,
Or have me broken upon the ground.
May I fly so high, am I free to soar,
Or will I crash as I have before?
I can give you your dreams, let you listen to mine.
We have the will, can find the time.

A trust implied, outcome implicit.
Will you be able to resist it?
Can you let the animal trapped so deep,
Awaken from his somber sleep.
Out for safekeeping in my arms.
Or keep him caged to risk no harms.
The hurts run deep, the cuts bleed still,
No easy answer, no simple pill.
But a soothing balm we each might find,
If we could leave our pasts behind.

The music is playing, I hear the beat,
To step in rhythm is no mean feat.
I have what you want,
I want what you'll give.
Do we take the chance,
Really start to live?
Immolation is imminent, too far gone to stop,
Will you still be standing when the walls all drop?
The choice is yours, it's up to you.
But a word of caution, whatever you do.

If I should have to rebuild the keep,
I'll fortify it, both high and deep.
So one last try, no second chance.
Your hand in mine, shall we try this dance?

                                                     -Tamara McLanahan

IMMOLATION

The dick said to her pussy,
"May I find a place to hide?
I'm lonely and I'm chilly
And it looks so warm inside." 

The pussy said to Mr. Dick,
"Your length is one of note,
But no welcome here, not yet m'dear, 
Unless you wear a coat." 

     ~Tamara McLanahan

MR. DICK

A sticky sweet indulgence.
A golden smooth delight.
A finger licking goodness.
Temptation's in your sight.

The pot is overflowing.
Tongue curled to dance and skim.
Breathless anticipation,
As your fingers tease the rim.

A dip to touch the droplets,
All senses to assail.
As slow as fine molasses,
watching rivulets that trail.

A glistening confection.
A succulent repast.
Go slowly as you partake,
It's a meal you'll want to last.
             
                      -Tamara McLanahan

STICKY SWEET

He dreams in ginger.
of radiance that glows even in the darkest of nights.
incandescent, transfixing and transforming 
from one breath to the next.
one thought to the next as hues become translucent.

He dreams in ginger 
as spice's remembrance intoxicates.
swelling as longing laps at his mind.
the taste ever sharp, even in slumber.
his lips glistening in anticipation.

He dreams in fire, 
as remembered heat smolders until 
fanned, fueled by fantasy.
leaping willingly, willfully into those flames.
combustion building, nearing raw, pure, undiluted.

His dreams are molten,
a liquid convergence of reality and shimmering illusion,
fed by intent and inherent desire.
a pyre upon which he happily burns as she melts.
their blaze turning into a wildfire as he watches the blooming. 

He dreams in ginger.
Weeping at the beauty of the cleansing conflagration.
Watching the dance of flames lick them both.
the roar consuming their senses
a red haze while it burns brightest, hottest.

He wakes in solitude,
a jarring disquiet in the inky blackness,
as perspiration coats, blankets.
the chill a counterpoint to the dream.
He closes his eyes and prays to dream again.

                                        ~ Tamara McLanahan

HE DREAMS IN GINGER

Thank you one and all for voting in the Word Warrior Challenge. The writing pairs are set. Ardent Rose and Steven Evans, Zorha Edwards and Lucian W Bane, Kasey Hill and myself, Leah Negron and Davina Purnell. It's shaping up to be an incredible four days of live writes, getting to know all the authors and some surprises along the way. We really hope you can join us.

We've all been sharing some of our poetry here over the last few days. This is one I call, Always Dreaming. 


I am always dreaming.
Even when wide awake. 
A constant yearn inside me. 
All passions I would slake. 

Enticed by love's dark promise,
The lure enchants me still. 
An open wound still bleeding. 
An empty vessel's spill. 

And as the ebb continues,
Do I give up the fight?
Or face with bitter irony,
A never-ending night.

So many questions linger,
Too many answers sought.
In dreams I ask for surcease,
What reality has wrought. 

             ~Tamara McLanahan

Want more information on the Word Warrior Challenge Event. Find out more here:
https://www.facebook.com/events/1692280627450181/permalink/1698452236833020/

Hope to see you there!

Word Warrior Challenge and Always Dreaming

Word Warrior Challenge      
Eight authors 
Ardent Rose and Steven Evans both writing and hosting the event
There's Zorha Edwards and Lucian W Bane
Kasey Hill and myself, Tamara McLanahan
rounding out the group is Leah Negron and Davina Purnell.

Get set to watch us Live Write, visit with us in the Meet and Greets. There just might be a surprise or two. We'll be posting our poetry up until the challenge so check back every day to see what's new. 

This is something I just wrote today. 
I call it, Secrets.

A penitent man hears stories, 
That Nature's compelled to tell.
The whispering winds hold secrets, 
If one listens truly well.

The Earth will sing to us daily,
If we strain to catch the beats.
The trees dance to the rhythms, 
They're most willing paracletes.

A symphony of flowers,
To accompany the scores. 
The roll and rush of riptides,
Rosin over ocean's floors.

Illuminating sunshine, 
Completes the manuscripts. 
A golden wash of color,
Off of Nature's fingertips. 

It's always the same instruments,
That Nature has to play.
But each song is slightly different, 
In a very subtle way.

The natural world holds volumes,
If you listen to it speak.
In audible impassioned prose, if
Enlightenment's what you seek.
                    
                    ~Tamara McLanahan

Word Warrior Challenge with a reading of Secrets

Heart Songs

The bonds you wrap around me keep me steady, make me strong.
When we're moving wrapped together, passions sing a soul deep song.
And the melody winds through me as I stare into your eyes.
Hearing lyrics written joyously with all your breathy sighs.
A crescendo of emotion as we're moving close to peak.
In your arms I feel elation and the harmony I seek.
A staccato rhythm beats now, as I hear your heart's increase,
And the rhyme is all that matters as our bodies find that peace. 
Strong and steady now, con forza, we can play the notes we need.
And focoso, at full volume in all manner, in all deed.
Incalzando, I am flying and I feel your heavenly tune.
When I cry out in delight I know that you'll be singing soon. 
No one's ever matched this melody, you know my every chord.
You stroke every loving heartstring, in your arms I feel adored.                       
                                                               -Tamara McLanahan

HEART SONGS

The Danse Macabre

And it begins, this Danse Macabre, 
Night terrors causing you to sob. 
When demons walk the Earth for real, 
With wickedness they can't conceal.

So many souls they dare possess, 
Alarming, their rampant success. 
In corners dark and alleys hidden, 
The daevas seek all out, as bidden.

For dark desires hid away, 
Too often will come out to play. 
As piety is overrated, 
Some sins are never really sated.

You'll keep your trinkets very near, 
To try and allay all your fear. 
A cross, an ankh, your talismans. 
No pantheons dare you offend.

But darkness eats up all the light. 
It matters not how hard you fight. 
No candles flame to save your soul, 
Your grave mistakes must pay a toll.

In supplication, prayers devout, 
You try to keep the Hell spawn out. 
A furtive effort, still, you try, 
Until you hear the banshee's cry.

It's chilling dread that grips you now, 
No way of knowing, you allow. 
But in your heart, you know it's true. 
The Danse is coming after YOU!
         
                           -Tamara McLanahan


Copyright 2016, Tamara McLanahan All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

The Danse Macabre

Just for fun. Mwahahaha

You can scream, they ain't listening,
Down your leg, blood is glistening,
A beautiful sight, you're bound up so tight,
Waking in a nightmare wonderland.

Far away, they can't find you.
And I'm here to remind you,
You won't get away,
This basement you'll stay,
Waking in a nightmare wonderland.

You can look and listen, I'm approaching.
Each new instrument is just for you.
Caked with vilest liquids, I won't sharpen.
'Cause they will hurt much more with what I do.

Later on, you'll be crying,
And soon wish you were dying,
But you'll live real long,
As I sing this song.
Waking in a nightmare wonderland. 

~Tamara McLanahan

Waking In A Nightmare Wonderland

I do guided imagery meditations as a way to relax and focus. I've used scripts online but I find them sometimes redundant so I wanted to pen one of my own. I originally wrote this for a friend but I've edited it and am recording it in the hopes some may find it beneficial when they need to meditate or relax as well. 



The sky is a brilliant cerulean blue, so bright you shade your eyes. Fluffy white cumulous clouds dot the horizon as you walk along the pristine beach. No footprints, those have been washed away by the morning's tide. A fresh beginning as your feet sink into the warm sand. Seagulls dip and dive overhead, looking for morsels. Their cries echo over the sound of the surf. A gentle breeze drifts from the ocean causing the palms to sway. Their undulations are mesmerizing as you continue further down the beach. Sea shells lay strewn across the white sand, an occasional sand crab skitters into his den. As you walk further down the beach you see a large piece of driftwood sitting by the water’s edge. Foam from incoming surf surrounds it and you watch as the water reforms the patterns, taking some bubbles, leaving fresh in their place. A constantly changing Jackson Pollock tableau. Abstract art in nature. Organic and ethereal. You watch closely, knowing that though the beach would be the same, the sky, the clouds, even the same birds and driftwood, the patterns, like snowflakes will never be precisely the same. There is comfort in that. This moment in time is just for you, the dance of the waves is a ballet for you and you alone. 

You could walk the same path, choose the same course but it would never duplicate exactly this day right now and so you open your senses. Let it flood you, fill you as you absorb every sound, every scent. You stick a tongue out and taste the tang of salt spray. You stop short of the driftwood and put your head back, close your eyes and listen with your inner mind. You see it all, memorize it all. Like a hummingbird captured on stop motion camera, you see it in your mind's eye but at an almost imperceptible pace. The lazy glide of water caressing the sand, the trees barely shifting their fronds. The birds are almost frozen in time, beaks open, wings spread. Riding high on pinned thermals. You pause to take a breath, a deep, cleansing breath. Close your eyes and let all the stress of the day release from you. On a deep breath you inhale fresh air and white, healing light. On the exhale, you feel at peace. Remain at the beach as long as you like, until you feel relaxed, or energized. Return here whenever you need. May you find the peace you seek here, always.     
                                                                                                                           ~Tamara McLanahan

Copyright 2017 T. McLanahan  All rights reserved.

Cerulean Blue Beach Guided Meditation

I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember. A voracious reader since old enough to hold a book or turn a page. I grew up in the shadow of the Nation’s Capital, a Beltway insider until moving to Florida. Sun, sand, sexy stories and poetry are my pastimes now, along with blogging and podcasting. I’m delighted to have the opportunity to pass along a tale, with hope you enjoy any or all of them. I look forward to sharing more stories in the coming months and would love to have you along, dear reader, for the ride. 
 “Words, when placed carefully, can warm the heart, amuse the mind, soothe   the soul.”                                                                                 -Tamara McLanahan