A Woman In Love

When a woman loves,
She gives,
And gives her all,
She gives her whole heart,
She gives all,
And loves in totality,
She is generous,
She is understanding,
She is love,
She accepts,
And holds dear,
Her love close to her heart,
She loves,
She cherishes,
The love of her life,
A woman in love is a magical spirit.

The Morning After

Dawn breaks gently,
Softly kissing away the vestiges of last night,
With a calm gesture of a glad light.
Morning creeps slowly upon the two still body forms,
Still lying luxuriously on the bed,
And teases destiny with pregnant promises.
Finally,
The sun claims her rightful place,
As the queen and centre of life,
And proceeds to drench longing souls,
With her warm and dear shine.
It is morning again,
The morning after…

The morning after,
Finds the two spirits still enveloped,
In an eternal embrace of a blissful existence.
Mystic smiles,
Etches peace and contentment,
Across their countenances.
What a beholding occurrence.
She pulls him closer to her naked and nubile breasts,
Snuggling closer to him with unabashed gay,
She deeply breathes in his raw masculine scents.
And lets his sinewy form enclose, claim and consume her inner most longings,
With such a ravenous intent…

He opens his eyes,
And his gaze gladly falls upon her face,
He relishes the sleeping beauty with a certain gusto,
Letting the breathtaking soft beauty,
Sweep him away into the ether world.
She flutters open her eyes and their gazes lock tight.
Last night’s events slowly play out before them…
As evidenced by the morning after…

They recall with certain tenderness,
The exploration of the vast valleys,
Gardens and mountains they had traveled together last night.
They had played hide and seek amongst the endless groves and leas,
They had lain down by the brook side,
As the brook quietly wormed her way downstream,
And he had dipped his finger deep into its welcoming waters,
And had drunk from it’s banks to his fill.
The water of life.
She had held on to the taught and strong trunk of his essence,
Willing it to claim her essential essence in a sweet savour,
While she had quivered with an urgent need.
She desperately wanted the void deep inside of her filled with life.
His life.
And no one else.

The moment was upon them.
The moment of sheer truth.
The moment of no return.
The moment of sweet surrender.
And each had willingly surrendered to each others throbbing will.
Waves upon waves of tumultuous ecstasy and intense feeling,
Had swept them to places they have never been there before.
They felt lighter and soared high upon the crest of the sweet wave,
They climbed higher and higher with each thrust of the moment and movement,
And when they finally reached the summit of the proud mountain,
They had  both crushed down together and collapsed in a heap of pure sweetness.
Every pore in her being opened up and received him in totality,
And felt him flow into the very inner sanctum of her soul, her spirit.
Thick, hot and vital.
What a virility he possessed.
They were one,
In being,
In mind,
In soul,
In spirit.
She knew very well,
No one would ever be able take  her to that place,
Apart from him,
And the morning after confirmed this salient truth,
For she could see the need in his eyes again,
And she could feel him stir into life again…
As she lay down in his wide chest,
In an easy languor,
Ready to welcome him again,
Deep into her very being,
In the morning after..

© Ayoub Mzee Mzima 2013

Phone Numbers

PHONE NUMBER

Excellent dinners.
Exciting outings.
Quality time spent together.
A movie here.
A night out there.
Yet he won’t ask her for her phone number.
Yet she would never be the first to ask for his phone number.
How?

She was a proud woman,
She who never stooped low,
She who always had her way.
But this man,
This one fine specimen of a vital masculinity was a something totally different…

She swore never to ask for his digits,
She swore never to ask for his facebook, linkedin, skype, google+, twitter and netlog contacts… Never.

Yet she longed to hear his tantalizing voice.
Yet she wished to read his mind through the social websites interactions with other humanities…

© Ayoub Mzee Mzima 2013

Carrying Life

She moves slowly.
Carefully rather.
She is heavy.
Laden with a beautiful life.
In her womb she carries hopes.
A life inside of her stirs up.
A nascent life.
She is pregnant.
She is a mother.
Carrying life.

A life exists.
A life spans.
A life is nurtured.
A life is protected.
Deep in her.
Her womb holds together this life.
She is a woman.
Carrying life.

© 2012 Ayoub Mzee

She Said She Loved Watching A Man Eat

She said she loved watching a man eat.
The way he holds his fork and knife,
The way he cuts and shoves the beef into his mouth,
And slowly munches contentedly,
Watching her.
It is something that does certain things to her spirit.
She said she loves the way a man eats.
The hunger in a man’s eyes lights up a fire in her.
And when she cooks for him,
Something connects.
Something special.
The knowledge that she can feed this hunger, his hunger, is awesome.
It is a power that she relishes.
She loves seeing a man eat.
She said.
A man who eats well, is well, a man capable of many things.
Special things.
Beautiful things.
A strong and  healthy man is important to her.
For she too have a hunger.
A hunger of her own.
A fierce hunger.
A hunger that needs to be fed.
Her man will feed her.
A feast.
A feat.
It will be.
She looks forward,
To be devoured by her man’s aspirations.
Nocturnal agenda is set.
She watches her man finish eating.
He smiles at her.
She smiles back, with a private knowledge.
A thousand fireworks explodes in her soul.
Longings silhouettes her lean loins.
A pride of lions.
And she can never ran away from this need.
His need.
Her need.
And she can never deny this hunger deep in her soul.
The night has began and with a coy smile,
She puts out the candles.
The fire inside of her continues burning her wishes.
She said she loves to watch a man eat.
She smiles in the dark light…
© 2012 Ayoub Mzee

A Woman Knows

An enigmatic gaze.
A cryptic smile.
And a soft sigh escapes her breast.
She nods in agreement.
She holds forth life and its all intricate mysteries.
She is the custodian of recessed narrations.
She has known the truth.
A woman knows.

Where words deserts the truth,
Her heart knows it intimately.
No lie is ever sufficient.
She reads a life history, elegantly
And penned on a candid countenance.
Her warm embrace soaks the doubts, lies, fears, hopes, anger and angst.
You need not tell her.
A woman knows.

Sweet joy in another, she easily gleans.
A heavy heart in loneliness, she is instantly aware.
Hidden pain, she quickly understands.
Withheld empathy, she feels.
Words are unnecessary.
A woman knows.

Her silence is a license,
To seek and heed more from a hiding heart.
She clasps reality in her hands, and feeds a wanting soul.
Her acquaintance is a stipend paid by gods.
Her grace and gentleness is an atonement to a spirit in wildness and in need.
A woman feels.
A woman knows.
She knows.