Lonely Author: recovery, rest, and trilogies

Lonely Author: recovery, rest, and trilogies

Hola.

Just wanted to get in touch with you to let you know I am recovering slowly, getting plenty of rest. Thank you so much for your kind messages and prayers.

That is the view from my balcony. I have sat there watching sunsets and getting fresh air.

My daughter Catherine came down to Florida the day before my procedure. She surprised me with a special guest Ally. They have been cooking, cleaning and driving me crazy, I meant driving me around. Doing their best to give me a strong dose of laugh therapy.

On Sunday, they surprised me taking me to dinner for an early Father’s Day celebration (since they won’t be here for the actual day). Don’t worry, I drank water.

I am a very lucky man. A few ex-girlfriends from New York offered to come down to take care of me. Felt some stress imagining all these exes in my apartment. The fighting, the hairing pulling, the screaming.

I already get enough of that wrestling over the remote control with my daughter.

Oh, speaking of remote control.

Catherine and Ally promised me a Twilight marathon this week.

It seems like cruel and unusual punishment for a man in recovery.

Soon to start seven weeks of heart strengthening therapy.

Missing all of you. ❤️

Bond, Drew Bond

Bond, Drew Bond

Not to worry.

Doctor and NURSES told me I have to complete the mission first.

The espionage stuff and pillow talk has to wait……

Doing well. Tired, sore, relieved. Resting.

Doc is happy.

Grateful for your beautiful concern and messages.

Thank you.

if tomorrow never comes

Tuesday is the big day. Hey, I lived my life pedal to the metal and not once considered hitting the breaks, so why stop now?

I prefer to go out doing what i do best…………….❤️❤️❤️

if tomorrow never comes

tonight would be sweeter
drinking poetry from your lips
perhaps, i can make it endless
tracing little hearts
on the shadows of your abdomen
turning seconds into hours
as i cherish you the way women
were meant to be adored
and if we can’t stop the hands
let me get lost
in flesh of your metaphors
in the textures of your love
as tonight becomes our forever
if tomorrow never comes

I would like to thank my friends for your amazing support. These last six months have been a challenge, but you helped me get here.

Comments are open. Replies will eventually happen and they will be brief to not tax my energy. I will read them like get well cards during my recovery.

To my Muse: Not sure how long I will be gone, but I will miss you terribly. ❤️

 In the meantime…………

Can You Feel The Love Tonight

Can You Feel The Love Tonight

Plowing through messages, emails, texts, as I receive tons of phone calls. I have prepped myself and fridge for my recovery after Tuesday’s procedure. Sorry if I am late getting to your blog posts and replies.

____________

Behind every great man…..blah, blah, blah.

Never liked that quote. If he is a great man, he would have his woman beside him and sometimes leading the way.

That has been my personal experience.

During the past 6 months of uncertainty, there were lonely nights. Days of feeling unloved. Nights where I swore to never write another line of poetry. Moments in the darkness asking God to have mercy and let me breathe my final breath.

Every one of these moments was met with a message from an amazing lady of WordPress expressing their caring thoughts. Little did these women know, they rejuvenated my heart, breathed oxygen into my lungs, and literally lifted me up by my collar.

They kept me going, even when I was trapped on the island in desperate need of this heart procedure. (By the way, the island extended the state of emergency another 25 days, I would have been trapped until late June).

Some of these wonderful ladies prefer to remain unnamed, so I will refrain from thanking them here. This song is dedicated to these women who REFUSED to let me quit. I am a better man because of them.

Tonight, I feel so blessed. During this sad period of pandemic, when the world was shutting its doors, the special ladies opened their hearts.

For my newer followers wondering about my choice of image for this post, ask my long time followers; they will explain.

a vagabond in love

Everyone has ocean’s to fly, if they have the heart to do it. Is it reckless? Maybe. But what do dreams know of boundaries?” – Amelia Earhart, aviation pioneer, author, the first female aviator to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean. 

a vagabond in love

i am a dreamer
a lonely beachcomber
wearing poetry on my sleeve
longing to accompany the morning sun
through the windows
of your most intimate dreams
aching to explore the lines of your palm
roam the curves of your ripped jeans
and should our paths never meet
i will always be
a vagabond in love
remembering your soul
wandering every cherished memory


insomnia

Recently purchased two 100 foot extension cords. This poem and every poem scheduled to post in April, were written under a palm tree.

insomnia

my restless heart can’t sleep
ever since she soaked my dreams
like a warm summer shower
of fireflies and fantasies
cascading radiance onto my soul
splashing away the darkness
causing my moons to shine
every sunrise to glow
my life is one sleepy blur
sleep or reality
i don’t know
just let me die of insomnia
so i continue dreaming of her

There will be a short funny post on Wednesday. Feel free to drop by and celebrate my birthday with me. xo

when i inhale your poetry

Today, I am happy to annouce Passions: Love Poems and Other Writings, a wonderful book from my precious friend Gabriela of Short-Prose-Fiction has been published. Always rich in vivid images and powerful metaphors, her poetry and prose will leave you breathless.

Order Here!

Speaking of breathless, here is a little poem I wrote for the occasion…..

when i inhale your poetry

when i inhale your poetry
i exhale melancholy syllables
leaving the atmosphere breathless
from your words
the heavens slowly appear
in your bedroom like a lonely apparition
as i blow winter auroras
through the autumn of your hair
leading to our first kiss
below the echo of a metaphor
where we watch moon glow
escape our trembling lips
in a misty sigh
of love