my skin
your skin

wet skin
red skin
slide in

fore play
play day

hip sway
rock away

nibble ear
tickle rear

nail drag
hair tug

hard pulse
walls swell

stiff peak
heart quick

~ Emily C.



The Ring

I have too many poems in my head
they fight for front row seat

words tangled in the ring
something’s in my way, I can’t see

Round 1 bell rings
fists of profundity punch

sweat gets in the eyes, stings
a wicked left stanza lands with a crunch

overseeing the dance of metaphoric play
the muse referees with a comical grin

“this will be the bout of the day!”
laughing at all the commotion

I hear the cheers, the egging on
the internal critic forever complains

while the crowd roars at the swings
eager to watch with anticipation

…the voices are familiar, their jeers, too
repetitive chorus of my mind’s song

hearing all the times I’ve doubted
I drown myself in buttery popcorn

No one can recognize this author
the one who threw the words

I hide behind flinging thoughts
waiting for one to be my Balboa

No more popcorn, lights turn on
letters everywhere, words mauled

Up for critique, lone prose stands
alone, triumphantly pants

~ Emily C.



Return to Sender

Her finger still had the impression of the ring she wore.

That Christmas, she had trod through the deep snow, on a cold clear day to the post office. The houses still had garlands, the windows still had trees, the roofs still had Santas.

She still had the ring.

As she opened the door, the ice fell off her weathered boots and tinkled on the floor into a puddle where a rogue ray of sun shined. This drew the attention of the small town folk in line to return their own holiday gifts.

Their eyes looked at her like they knew what she was there to return. Of course, that was more her imagination than anything else.  And of course, they probably did. Word travels fast here: “that girl who rejected a perfectly good man…shame.”

Cradling the small box wrapped in brown paper, addressed to him, she found herself sheepishly hiding at the end of the line. That awkward silence…where people are stuck together in a confined space, each secretly swearing at the customer at the counter who is taking forever to finish their turn – she took some deep breaths and observed.

She observed them.  She observed her feelings.  It really was the only way.  She had found the strength to say no to something that seemed like an obvious yes to everyone else observing her life. And while there was nothing wrong with him, there was something wrong with them.  Pretending that it was meant to be because it was expected to happen, wasn’t going to do either of them any favors in the long run.

It was the hardest no she had to say. But, it was the most important one.

She carried that no close to her chest, where once lay his head. One by one, the people in front of her moved, and there she was, handing it over.

She handed over her former future, return to sender.

Next stop: New York.


Years ago, I had started playing around with an idea for a story/book. I long forgot about it, lost the floppy disk (yes…that long ago), and I’ve wanted to resurrect it, and this is just a little draft attempt at that. Just whetting the appetite, so to speak. Feel free to pay no attention. 🙂

Edge of Town

Really love this song. A great one to sing, and works well on my harmonium.

I discovered my new favorite place. In Seattle, our local kickass radio station is KEXP. You can listen to them online, they play everything I love and more…huge variety.

They moved last year to an awesome new location by the Seattle Center, with a gathering space with lounge couches and chairs, an excellent cafe, and a DJ booth that faces the main area so you can see them dj’ing live as they pipe the station into the room. To my surprise, they also have live in-studio performances by bands as they come through town for concerts. I’m going to be spending a lot of time there, I do believe.

So this week, I got to see the new (at least in US) band from Australia called Middle Kids, who just released their first EP last Friday, 6 killer songs. New fan. This is their song “Edge of Town.”

Edge of Town ~ Middle Kids

Shadow Doll


When the light breaks to play
casting shadows it does portray
lines and curves and profiles
of a doll against her wall

what does she do but dance
a little, strike a post in time
capture her youth before
it dies its death of her

so still
becomes the breath
so naked
becomes the flesh
portfolio blushes in shades
of gray on a sunny Seattle day

~ Em C.

Photograph: of me, belongs to me. No filter. May not be used or copied without permission (yes, this has happened to me recently).

I was struck one summer day some years ago when the sun broke through and lit the wall a golden hue. I stripped down to nothing and took a series of shadow poses. I stumbled across this one today and the memory came back.

Three Plus Three ~ A Trio

The boys catch their breath, throw their fish in the cooler
Lunch will wait, there are three needy girls to sate,
By the looks on their faces, it can’t come too soon
Wet and smiling, girls grip clinging clothes and pull
They’ve had their fun outside but never had their fill
Sharing a heated look, mouths meet, warm and sweet
Shivering turns to quivers of bliss as fingers explore
Throbbing hearts and body parts meld with eager tongues
As girls, in a line, drop to knees, feed on pleasure
Drinking highs and milking sighs, this they treasure

Despite the weather best friends remain joined together
Nothing lasts forever, yet these moments do suspend
Time in a whirlwind where there’s no beginning or end
Heated stares, a double dare in loves passionate affair
Two men take their places, manning their solo station
Thunderous thrusting against her formidable cloud
Waiting to burst and rain down in waves of foaming elation
On her knees he hits the spot, repeatedly from behind
With another nestled between her open, dripping thighs 
Sightseeing and licking them both greedily with hungry eyes

In the upper bunk, the third gets his turn, two at his feet
Tongues taking turns licking him like an ice cream treat
Sighing as he eyes the sky, sweat drips from his chest
Heating up like summer storm tempest, heavenly humidity
One girl takes the lead, stands his manhood up with speed
She mounts him, girl on top rides him higher, thigh on thigh
The other hovers delicately over his mouth, his lapping up
Her juice, sweet like the summer nectar, salty like the tide
Rocking her horse until she comes, right as he reaches peak
His rider squeezes her swollen walls tighter, she screams

Now time for them all to come together-three boys and three girls
Naked skin slicked with sweat and sin while licking tongues swirl
A seething knot of heaving chests, groping hands, warm demands
Immersed in soothing hot springs, bubbling and touching wetlands
One wet girl for each wanton man, passing time as only lovers can
In openly sharing their ecstasies while buried deep in sweet intimacy

Rocking till the tires shake, observers would see an earthquake
Where throbbing skin meets skin, hard to tell where each begins
Roaming hands slip onto a nipple, a cock, a clit…oh delicious sin!
Until three plus three, in climactic unison,



~ VictoryInTrouble, Wet Bliss, and Poet Girl Em




As promised, we three wet birds bring you the next installment in our nature adventure. If you haven’t read We Three Wet Birds, please do treat yourself to the first part of the story.

I’m so tickled to be able to work with these two amazing ladies again. They are each rockstars in their own right and you would be well-rewarded by checking out their work! They will get your juices flowing to say the least. 🙂

Much love to them for playing with me. Thanks, girls ❤

(Audio reading by Emily Clapper)