Category Archives: Poetry

Salty Fingers – Loving Touches

I lie beside the water’s edge.


My eyes are closed


but like one sightless,


I feel the touch


of sand beneath my body…


the taste of salt upon my lips…


the sound of surf,


music within my ears.


Then, in motion,



Sea draws me


into her embrace.


She caresses my naked body


with fingers soft and gentle…


she kisses my lips,


my breasts—



I am swimming now,


begging Sea to take me


as I lie quivering in her arms.


I grasp her with my thighs


but she slips away…


returns to kiss my throat,


my breasts—



She is a teasing lover,


laughing all the while


until she has me arching with delight


like a dolphin in mid flight.


Of all the women I have loved,


Sea is the playful one.


She toys with me


and teases me


until I spin


in rapturous delight.



Let me feel again your urging,


let me come to thee once more.



Vi Jones


October 9, 2006


She drifts in from the sea

to wrap herself around me,

a soft cool shroud concealing me

from the world I shun.

She loses me in silver haze

but keeps me safe

from prying eyes

of those who seek to do me harm.

There are times

when she is cruel

as when she caused my ship to founder

upon the rocky shore,

then let me wander aimlessly

into places I should not go.

She can be cold and unforgiving

of the mistakes I might have made.

Will I ever find my way

back to the light of day?

Will I ever lift her veil

and walk into the future

where the sun doth shine

brightly and hopefully?

Alas, like a fly caught in a spider’s web,

I cannot leave her,

my Lady Fog so dear.

I have not the courage

to return from whence I came.

I live instead within her shroud

forever as a ghost

drifting slowly from the sea.

Vi Jones

©October 25, 2006

The Green Goddess of Spring

The green goddess of Spring

Slips through the woodland,

Leaves bright splashes of colour

Where her feet have trod

Of new leaves and fronds unfurling.

Petals and buds uncurling of

Bluebells, pale windflowers and golden celandines, pink apple blossom,

Yellow deadnettle, wood sorrel, primroses and violets.

As she weaves her way ‘twixt bush and tree

The birds follow her

In riotous assembly of song

And flashes of colour from breast and wing

As they feast

On caterpillars in the new-burst foliage.

The brook gurgles happily over its bed of stones

Where temple maidens come to gaze in its watery mirrors,

Their long hair trailing in the current.

They listen to the babble of the brook

as it whispers and chatters its tales of things seen and yet to pass.

Shy animals make their way to the edge to drink:

A silent doe with huge, liquid eyes with its nervous fawn.

A quick squirrel, frightened by the sound of a raucous jay

dips in a timid paw and turns to race up a nearby tree.

Oreo in the Abbey

Testing the morning,
my cat sniffs the air,
gauges the warmth of the sun,
the possibility of rain,
the nearness or absense of danger.

One foot slightly raised,
ears pricked,
whiskers erect,
he listens for human voices,
the twitter of birds,

Only then, curled and waving,
does his tail follow him out the door.

by Believer

Stone Bench

I sit on this stone bench

And I’m glad that for once I have nothing to do

No responsibilities, no duties

I sit here and marvel at the stillness I can create within myself

In the midst of the Abbey’s bustle

I smile because I am just being

The stone bench represents my life as it is in this moment

Unadorned, simple, uncomplicated

The Abbey is a precious sanctuary

An escape

Akin to sitting by a peaceful stream

And watching it flow by

Once my peacefulness has returned to me

I can once again

Face anything that life brings

But I need this oasis in order to carry on

by Soultide