Smoke and sunset

sirhanz Poetry November 14, 2019 1 Minute

Holding the ashes,
Of what once was,
Woodsmoke,
Memory of winter fire,
Leading me home,
With burning face,
Numb hands in mittens,
To warm soup,
Fresh bread from the oven,
Butter melting,
Hot molasses milk,
To drink slowly,
Siting by the fire…
And now..
Sifted in the wind,
Blows the burned remains,
Of childhood memory,
Invoked once again,
By the danceing flame.

Published by sirhanz

My path in writing, art, or poetry had always been one of seemingly contradictory things meshing to find balance. Transporting a reader into the depths of their imagination or showing a glimpse of the world through my eyes. Inspireing new thoughts or shifting a readers view to a new perspective has always made me smile. Writing connects me to strangers and those I care about. I write as a creative outlet and as a way to share my thoughts. Sometimes catharsis, sometimes simply seeking to share or create beauty. I openly write about my experiences as a dom and the kinks I enjoy. Sensuality and sexuality both find a home in my work and inspire me to write. I pour feelings onto the page like splashes of paint, throw them out into the world and for some reason people like them. It baffles me but I enjoy the hell out of it. I hope I can continue to inform, amuse, and inspire desire in you all. Best wishes -SirHanz View all posts by sirhanz

Published November 14, 2019