Cartes Postales

By John Abeln2003

Cartes Postales

Carte Postale

Traveling over the oceans,Buckled in to avoid motion.

Slight twist of the hips,Falling into a dreamless sleep.

A little crook of the knees,Trying to avoid being weary.

Enjoy the cartes postales with my words,And beautiful images I have seen of the world.

Wish you were here!

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Cartes Postales

Couldn’t Sleep Last NightMay 2001

I tried the dinner last night over the Atlantic.Then I leaned back in my seatAnd collected myself for sleepBut you were on my mind.

I feigned sleep with my eyes closed last nightSo I didn’t have to talk to the man on my right.But I thought of our closeness,Of our soft touches and kisses.I remembered:

Half of our soul listened to James Taylor music flowAs we poured and rubbed sandal wood oilOn our bodies, on our smooth and thirsty bodies.

Begging my mind for sleep was uselessAs it kept thinking of our nocturnal kisses.This bumpy ride to another landIs long, but full of images grand.I remember:

The other half of our soul still sees ourLove and soft touches that being closeAllows you to hear from mine to yours.

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Cartes Postales

A Soft Summer Wind Touched My FaceSeptember 2001

A soft summer wind touched my faceAs I walked down this palm tree path.It may be the middle of the day Or it may be the end of the day.In this tropical place near the equatorIt’s impossible to discern by the temperatureAs it is always hot even by the water quay.

The troubling part is that it is night when it is dayI’m not able to be with you to touch your face.We are apart and alone half a world awayAnd only have our thoughts to keep us safe.

It may be summer time in this part of the worldIt may be winter’s coldness touching my girl.Walking right on to the plane made me fell blueSitting in the seat that will take me from my trueLover who cannot be with me while I’m working.I will be sleeping when you’re awake So our thoughts are not even connecting,Even with the speed of light messages take.

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Cartes Postales

Angels July 2001

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Cartes Postales

Ten thousand angels are required to see you.They have orders that they can’t be viewed.Forget about their harps; forget about their cymbals and horns.These precious ones have a job to keep since you were born.

A thousand and more are assigned to please you from the sky.They tumble and pull at the clouds like tufts of cotton candy,Pushing them high into the atmosphere piled and stacked.They’re made fluffy and white by their wings and hands.

A legion or two are scheduled to mind you.Some are responsible for each of your years, That separate and yet tie everything together.Others are responsible for each of your days,That manage the transitions, events and ways.

A quark of angels are to protect you in bed,Guard you from pain in bones that ache,Even though I make your body to sweatThey won’t allow your precious limbs to break.

A score of angels have one idea to be available,At your command from the highest pinnacle, the lowest vale,Are by your side and listen to your thoughts and whispers,Attend to your sighs, see movement of your eyesSo you see the beauty of the world and its luster.

There is also your Guardian Angel that watches all about.This is the one that you never see yet can’t live without.Garments and colors are designed by the Master.Touches your hair, lifts your spirits past here, Has the power and skill of no personal thinking,Of never going to sleep, relaxing or dreaming,Of allowing time for the steady watch over you. The daily reports I receive are my life-clock,About you.

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Cartes Postales

Cars and Smooth MovementsJanuary 1979

When I speed down closed roadsI’m confined in tight lanes.The sky’s dirty cloud carpet sinks down,The car behind is moving faster Than the one in front of me.I swerve around a lost tire,See an opening and blast out.I burst out with Germanic force.I blast off harder than busting through brick walls.I’m free in flight on black lanes.

When I speed over your clothed skinI’m confined to the tight lace.The night’s air steams fancily around.The clothes behind me are moving offFaster than the ones in front.I swerve around a lost shoe,See your skin light, grab your controls.I’ve busted out; I’m flying overApocryphal fields of milk white honey.We’re in free float as we blast off,As we synchronize our thrust on white linen toMovements strong enough to shatter brick walls.

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Cartes Postales

Fire Engines!May 2001

Why don’t we start-up our fire engines?Why don’t we touch and ignite our fire?I’ll start yours if you start mine.I’ll feed it oil to prime the pump,To give yours that fast start-up.

We could pour water or wine over our hot spots.It would be useless fearing we’d get caught.Splash on sweet tastes and kiss all over themAs I lay on my back, waiting for your tongue.

The only way to kill the flamesIs to let our engines come to a boil,Left in our own little sea of joy,We’d ride our fire engines untamed.

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Cartes Postales

Full Moon over LondonJune 2001

I just finished dinner in La Candela,The clanking of the Underground coaches seepsThrough the roadway as I walk on Kensington Church Street.Traffic is moving fast on the deserted streets of London.The white-building flats gave off a soft yellow glow.Their windows shine iridescent from the moon,As the June evening brings quiet to a summer’s day.

Walking on flagstone tiles as I pass small boutiquesSelling English gentrified bobs and antiques,I think about you four thousand miles away.It is still day light in the U.S. of A.My day ends as yours begins.My thoughts of your arms caress my soul.I want to shout out my needing you.My thoughts of you move quickly As the air around me bring about a coolness. The full moon over London is clearAs the grey-white sky brings you near.

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Cartes Postales

Here Comes the SnowMarch 2002

Here comes the snow.Drifting bright and cold.We've wanted it for so long.Excuses of hats just disappear As it touches our nose and ear.Watching for our quickening step,And the crunching sound at our feet,I think this will keep us closeAs I stare out the windowAnd see the fluorescent glow.

Look in the sky.It is so white, it hurts my eyes.Here comes the snow again.Where did the sun and warmth go?Did it go with the love we show?Inside snuggly blankets of comfort?

Now, the old dirty snow is goneReplaced by a genuine warm sun.Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.Through my most grievest fault“I let you down,” I want to convey.Is there some way to not feel caught?I know it is through your forgiveness.So that is what I seek from you.

Can our love be like music we share?Like Nellie’s songs of love, of fire,We don’t own them, but they will always be with us,Reminding us of our time together when we needed deliverance.

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Cartes Postales

It Was the KissSeptember 2001

When I think of our good times,They started with a kiss.If I remember our intimate moments,They started with a kiss.I remember little things like the freckle on your chin,As I approached your soft and incredible skin.It’s like getting close to a great red wine:

My head starts to feel light and spin,My heart skips beats again and again,My eyes loose focus as I close in on your skin,Our skin touches and joy melts my chagrin,Our limbs touch and we experience heaven,Our lips rub together and we become one.

So what is our connection you ask with a smile so sly?It was the kiss that stopped our styles,That brought our perpetual smiles,That rocked the boat of our lives,Yes, it was the kiss my love, our kiss.

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Cartes Postales

One More for the RoadJanuary, 2002

"When you're gone,From my loving arms,You need a memory of meThat's tender and sweet."And she proceeds to kiss andTouch me as if her replacement canSubstitute for not being complete.Pale moon doves took flightAs she caressed my skin.“Many roads will be beneath your feet,”She said, her lips next to my ear.“But only one of these will be my road for you.”And she kissed my ear, kissed my check, then my lips.

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Cartes Postales

St. John’s WoodsJanuary, 1983

I’ve tasted the snow as it fell in St. John’s woods.It’s been a while since I’ve walked in the knee deep white.School horses run by and kick up a storm.The cold ground and barren trees are snapped to lifeAs the brood mares dance thunderously on the thin paths.

But it’s going to take a lot more To stop thinking about you.

I feel the cold wind pushing down from CanadaThe evergreen trees sway in the cadence of the day.I’m just a dull blade piercing through the cold wedgeBetween two brick buildings, on icy patches of snow.The wind allows me only short breaths as I walk.If I was good at living in the cold countryDo you think I’d still battle the elements?

It’s going to take a lot more than this to stop thinking about you.

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Cartes Postales

Soft on My ShoulderDecember 2001

When I think of youAnd our life together,A bird rushes into the blue,So soft on my shoulder.

At the twilight moment of daytimeWhen pictures become soft,And pastel images replace sharp lines,Your gentleness can’t be stopped.

In the classic taste of French wine makingAt the moment of effervescence,Its transformation is magic like pearls,So pure of heart for this oaken world.You are sensual on my liquid soul.

As your wet hair lays againstThe crook of my neck,And our bubbly skin rubs tenseAlong our undulating hips,We’re floating with sensuous handsThat climaxes from tender toes to heads.Your kind gesture and wordTouches a soft corner in my heartAnd we stop touching the earth.

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Cartes Postales

CloseJuly 1990

I love these lingering kissesYour long smooches that travelFrom my lips to my cheeksEven kissing my nose or eyes is nice. Thank You.

I love these lingering kissesAnd rubbing hugs with hands that travelOver my shoulders, touching my backEven messaging my fingers or foot is good. My Love.

I love those longer kissesAnd long hugs.And your body laying on mineCrawling over my legs and chest,Even your arching back to my stomach is fine. Thank You.

I love these moments togetherWe are able to do all of these things at once.I enjoy you more than each of these.I always have something to look forward to, My Baby.

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