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  Presenting the outstanding work of D P McClellen:
Bio: David McClellan originally hails from New Orleans, Louisiana.
He is a graduate of Louisiana State University, Baton Rouge, with a BA in news/editorial journalism.  
After knocking around at odd jobs in management fields, he joined the Navy in 1984.  
He served for 15 years as a Chief Journalist/Broadcaster.
He is extensively traveled in the United States and overseas.
He is currently resting in retirement (not for long) and resides in the origin of OZ, Kansas.
Inspirations:  New and lost love, Bipolarism, my high school creative writing teacher, too much coffee,
the love of good reading and all the people slogging this planet with me.  David's

 Soul Hesitance

 I am unseated with reasoning of devils,
here to play with my hesitant soul.
Never have I felt the whirls of adventure
lived in the passionate stories told.

Your touch is my thought up in flight,
graze my mouth as if your lips
were mine of the firm push of flesh,
a garland of delicate rose hips.

You are rainbows fallen to the earth,
within my hesitant grasp wet
of my desire and the calling dream
whirling of plans, my heart set.

To know of you strikes me electric
as a song of heating promise.
I crack the dark stone of my life
and craft a gateway fortress.

Hope rains within me to storm
with questions of my worth
as I shake with the small steps
leading me to unknown birth.

I am lost in your ravishing regard,
wandering unblemished stars.
I reach forth beyond hope's pain
to settle those, my lover's wars.

I soar in skies with no met horizon
as my thoughts stay with you.
My fledgling wings carry me above
as I turn more than myself true.

 © 2000 DPMcClellan


The opening of my nights quickens
As you arrive to own my thoughts.
I can taste your breath within me.
What I will be
Is what you create.

Your existence sings in my desire.
Silk touches swell soft beneath my skin.
A tremor in my new exploration,
Healing libation
To my curious soul.

Desperation hounds fast on my heels
That I  am  not enough to warrant  your  smile.
Ambition drives me to give,
As, if to live,
You must be with me.

I could not sleep in darkness beside you,
Only imagine your dreams and wait
The pleasure of your morning,
Your adorning
Of a new day's kiss.

You have led me to windows of myself,
Awakening blossoms in passion spirals.
My thirst is consuming,
Dares for assuming
I fall within your embrace.

© 2000 DPMcClellan    


 New Horizons

 Imagining talking to you face to face,
       looking into your eyes and drowning in
     Holding your hand and squeezing it,
     and getting a squeeze back.
     Listening to your hopes, dreams and
     Sharing mine.
     Listening to your laugh.

     Imagining listening to your children,
     and talking to them, and playing with
     Watching them grow up,
     and sharing in that.
     Maybe one day,
     hear them calling me Dad.

     Imagining you in a gay summer dress,
     whirling and prancing across green
     Then sitting down so happy and gay,
     to open the picnic basket,
     and set out its contents.

     Imagining you in front of a fire,
     wine swirling in a crystal glass,
     a fine dew of moisture,
     on your upper lip,
     the firelight highlighting your hair.

     Imagining you walking sprightly,
     through the autumn air,
     talking out plans and ideas.
     Asking me my opinion,
     and listening to my thoughts.

      Imagining  the gentle puff of your breath,
     on the nape of my neck,
     as you sleep,
     the soft swell of your breasts tucked
     into my shoulder blades,
     your long, silken thigh
     against my leg.

   © 1999 DPMcClellan

She comes into his life soothing balms to his mind,
a friend quickly touching his heart with writing lines

penned carefully to drying ink indelible but last
he wants it to, a sharing of himself, feelings cast.

She writes to him of his life's stories told to her,
in sharing wants to shoulder burdens and were
solutions, fresh perspective not offered to salve?
She absorbs him, worries of his illness, dark path.

She fills him with astonishment, the sheer pleasure
brought with personality changes in some measure
his way of looking at life, of seeing black and white
transforms to colors pastels and luminous bright.

He knows her gentleness in words he tries to say,
but fears inadequate attempting emotions still may
bring the fool to the court, as deeper too he delves in
the heart, as it lays bare and tender, hopes to win.

Her femaleness lightning strikes into him, a main
nerve to shake his head in desirous awe and feign
control, which is not there. A gnawing hunger sets
his body to rushing need, bewildered, owing debts.

Her charity is voluminous in breadth and treatment
of others, who share not a kindness, but slyly tax rent
on her soul freely given and no charging profit sought,
no bill to answer, no questions, recriminations wrought.

He turns inside himself, shadow to light, black to red
passion behind a calmer pouring, ecstatic, he is led
on a roaming kaleidoscope, what was once hinterland.
He has burst bonds of memories, time's bruising sand.

She instills a newness in him, invigorating freshness
blows through his bones and muscles, stimulating fastness.
He squares his shoulders, looks into the mirror to see
a man who may deserve her, poised to capture reality.

He leads himself from a low tunnel, blocking gates
fallen, decayed.  Brilliance marks a staircase, waits
no longer, one step before the other, excitement well
accompanies his exodus to a distant pealing bell.

She is a journey through meadows speckled yellow.
blue, red, a rainbow arching in clear skies mellow,
as clean, cold mountain air carries her tenderness
with exotic meaning to clarify his new eagerness.

He knows what love is, a churning rivulet silting hard,
to cut rivers swollen with twisted flotsam from the guard
ship, holds brimming old hurts, sinking on its chain.
He drinks of clear waters from a shore clear of pain.

He feels a pressure, welling force raising him beyond
his noted limit marks to a new plateau and bond
with a telling knowledge that she is the one fate
he chooses, a freedom new, to love, to wait.

New horizons tease before him, full of promise to
make a life he thought had passed him by. Who
he was to gain affections, he marvels, he thrills
to form a union, she to join him as they will.

 Rhapsody in Blue Minor

                      I drink emerald, forever, say your eyes.
                      Flower dreams bloom pastels
                      pleading tender sighs
                      of our moment.

                      I fall entranced, savoring rose mysteries,
                      whispers gleam wonders' pass
                      blue moonlight seas
                      promise destiny.

                      I can but wander in ivory glistening halls,
                      echoes play my steps rush
                      pleasing crimson kiss
                      lies treasure.

                      I hold you in glass hands, a rhapsody
                      choruses reveries in verse,
                      meets my own parody
                      with perfection.

                      Your starlights soothe rampant heart,
                      lay me lace in blush satin.
                      I touch the lover's part,
                      hope's impression.

                      Possession a luscious confection,
                      I meet heavens, rainbows
                      of your glance, visions.
                      Carry close, by me.

                      © 2000 DPMcClellan

                                       He Wanted

                      He wanted to see her, look at her, gaze into crystal green eyes,
                      losing self spun in whirlpools, rush the current,  find what mystery lies,
                      fumbling for questions,  find the voice, lost  to   speculation,
                      galaxies in emerald depths, confusion,  emulation.   

                      He wanted to drink her, absorb her,  a thousand  voltage laced his brain,
                      blood prickled inside, his face grew hot,  forehead  waxy paper plane.
                      Her arms, her legs, her body speaks in photos of  poetry in stillness,
                      begging motion,  face winged grace, flows  projecting selfless.

                      He wanted to touch her, slip the smoothing surface, cheek to ear,
                      neck pulses rhythm, falls sloping through a hollow,  ends so near
                      the swelling bossom quivering with each sweet  breath taken in.
                      Helpless stare traces curves and roundings,  flaring  the tempest within.

                      He wanted to taste her, savor her back of the  tongue, pungently  
                      flavored richly bodied, of summer wind and winter  fire smoke, urgently
                      savoring the tang of perfume, the salt and soap of scentedfresh air,
                      swallow her as a whole gorged deliciousness sating hunger fair.

                      He wanted to know her, listen to her thoughts, believe her will,
                      understand wants, needs and desires when the mind  stands still.
                      Peruse personality, discover depths in kindness, good caring empathy,
                      pathways to anger, sorrow.  Study reason, passion, burgeon sympathy.

                      Time is out of focus for him, it matters not except  when she is gone,
                      he roams the pastures of his heart to ease the emptiness. Then dawns
                      as she arrives in spiriting miles of stretched black cable  lines.
                      He raises his head and blooms to ready wit and purpose finds.   

                      © DPMcClellan