Good morning, Poets and Poetry Lovers! Check out my recent artist interview where I answer some in-depth questions about writing, my inspirations, and women I’d like to spend one night with!
http://ppigpenn.blogspot.com/2014/10/interview-charles-banks-jr.html
Her voice is the gentle spring rain,
Brushes of wind against the pure white sails
On the sailboat I made with my own bare hands.
Her voice is the ocean’s serene waves
Masturbating each grain of my anxiety;
Strokes of heavenly bliss as the illicit
Moans of pleasure escape the depths of pain.
Her voice is a timid lover’s sweaty palm,
A warm embrace I feel against
My cheek whenever I blush with doubt.
Her voice is the gentle spring rain,
Tears upon the window pane as
I stare below at the silhouette of a goddess
Departing into the midnight’s obscured lights.
Her voice is like sounds of 6:00 AM,
Love birds chirping in a nearby tree,
Tea kettles whistling on the stove,
A tender lover’s good morning salutation.
© 2013 by Charles Banks, Jr.
Writing as Curiosity
Excerpt from Concrete Promises
Published by Spilt Ink Poetry
Hey followers! Two days ago I received an e-mail that informed me that three poems from my last book Concrete Promises will be published in an international anthology of love poems. I will post information once the anthology is complete. Also, I’ll post the three selected poems! It is always a humbling experience to get published, I admit. Again, thank you all for continuing to read my blog.
If you are interested in reading excerpts from my book Concrete Promises, feel free to do so. Also, if you wish to buy the ebook copy, head on over to Lulu.com!
http://spiltinkpoetry.wordpress.com/
– Charles Banks, Jr.
Photo taken from the WEB
As she invaded my privacy,
My lips trembled in the wintry chill.
She tried to press her flushed lips to mine.
Maybe by kissing me, she thought, I’d bring her new life.
My lips in turn reserved the right and morphed into
Reluctant participants—I shut my eyes in terror.
Despite the blockade I furnished, she dared to inch closer,
Bulldozing her way into uncharted plains in my heart.
“Just caress me…”
“Just hydrate my intimate thirst…”
“With your naked intentions…”
A strong desire to contribute in a kiss wisped
Through my timid body like a gust of wind.
She stroked my face with her cold, bare hands
And bridged the gap my apprehension assembled.
Her breaths felt comforting against my scarred visage.
“Don’t be afraid!” she whispered.
“Trust me!” Her bare palm upon my beating chest.
“Unconditionally!”
Her declaration seemed sincere.
What choice did I have but to believe
In the sweet nothings she whispered?
My trembling lips ceased, eyes opened,
My beating chest eased, and I gave into
Her flushed lips.
© 2013 by Charles Banks, Jr.
Writing as Curiosity
Excerpt from Concrete Promises
Published by Spilt Ink Poetry
Photo taken from the WEB
Struggling to uncover the right words,
I tap my pen against the arm of my beige couch,
Out of anxiety.
I cross out misguided words and catchy phrases
That need not apply.
I build with aggravation.
I know the emotions are real,
But they do not want to surface.
I ball up pieces of fallen trees
And shoot bricks at the waste basket.
Like a volcano
I will soon erupt with rage.
I cannot hold my affection inside anymore.
I search with meandering eyes for inspiration.
I think happy thoughts…
Wedding bells
Wedding vowels
“I do!”
All of a sudden
The inspiration arrives
I write the perfect masterpiece.
I bless the paper with my blood
I fold it three ways.
I slide my sacred letter into the envelope
I seal it shut…
Only to be opened by that special someone.
Once the tender letter is read
My truest feelings
Will finally be revealed.
© 2013 by Charles Banks, Jr.
Writing as Curiosity
Excerpt from Concrete Promises
Published by Spilt Ink Poetry
Photo taken from the WEB
LAST PETITION
I have something I’d like to announce
Though you decide to retreat nightly
With the intent to wholeheartedly denounce
My unwavering pleas to hold you tightly.
I mope, I weep, and I quiver
At your unforgiving and frightening trances
You damage me with the pain you deliver
In your bleak, soulless glances.
I am out now to retrieve
What was wrongfully taken
In an attempt to justly believe
That your affection was not mistaken.
I will fight for thee with every breath I possess
Until your love for me, you confess.
© 2013 by Charles Banks, Jr.
Writing as Curiosity
Published by Spilt Ink Poetry
Excerpt from “Concrete Promises”
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I have people to kill, lives to ruin, plagues to bring, and worlds to destroy. I am not the Angel of Death. I'm a fiction writer.
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