Monthly Archives: September 2014

image: by juliannaa

My Love,

Am I the last of the unconventional love letter writers? If so, I’m leaving my final summer breath on the page.

And I’m leaving the flame asparked, leaving it aglow until the very last tide crawls ashore. Our love-making last Pamper-Her-Friday left you voiceless, fatigue-ridden, so utterly hapless that you swore it would have to close our summer–your body simply couldn’t take the waning hours of summer’s final solstice.

But you didn’t say goodbye.

And I couldn’t allow the lantern to go fireless. The suckle imprints I left on the inner thighs have refused to let us go. It wasn’t exactly biting my endeavor last Friday nightfall–consider them tongue-teeth-tease-so-determined-to-please skin kisses lacking all semblance of conscience.

The bikini, I realize, had no business finding itself left helplessly atop the sand beneath our feet, begging, no, demanding my trunks for company. And the Robert Mondavi sirah bottle swept away by the ocean’s night rush.

I wasn’t attempting to persuade summer to extend its stay, truly, I wasn’t. I had no clandestine, ulterior motives throughout my artful performance last Friday. Honest. Your fragrance had me. Your toes (wow, did the gods sculpt those?) tagged me. Your succulent lips, woman, they bagged me . . . up and swallowed me intermittently like summer melon journeying coolly, sweetly along an esophageal landslide to utopia.

I’m no culprit to your lingering bandit thoughts gone wild. At least not intentionally. The pulled hair and spanking dare were not of my premeditation; was it not you who voiced the need for intensity or were we captive to summer’s most naughty wishes?

The Friday before, and the ones prior, from early June to late July to September’s last exhalations, don’t let them cloud the days ahead, don’t allow them to misty your anticipations and expectations of fall’s new season.

Don’t take summer’s unforgettable and certainly unregrettable play-making, breath-taking, sax-awaking morning and midnight intimacies into the season’s change.

What was is what was–beautiful though it shall forever be.

Summer has announced its goodbye, my love, taking me in its tide out to sea. Extraordinary is what we’ve shared this summer. But if the last kiss has been shared between us, I can’t help but leave a flame at your feet to symbolize that which burns in my heart still. Summer’s end has no capacity to douse this internal flame, woman.

If, by chance, you find the lamp still aglow and you’re not inclined to dim it lifeless . . . well, perhaps it will signal in its sparkle across the ocean, it will usher in what we both feel burning in our collective heart:

A Romance in Autumn . . . .

Eternally,
Rg2

__________________________________

***

Pamper the woman . . . to summer’s last breath. -Rg2

© 2014 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

Next week: ‘A Romance in Autumn’ by Rg2, Volume III

The Obama Women, The Graceful American Experience
credit: AP Photo/Pablo Martinez Monsivais

Dear Mrs. Obama,

I’m not the perfect citizen.

I haven’t been the ideal American example, I readily admit.

Can I do more? Sure. Can I serve more, volunteer more? Absolutely. And I’m working on it.

However, I am a faithful tax payer. I’m unwaveringly law abiding. I’m a natural, relentless practitioner of the Puritan work ethic–entrepreneurial by instinct, a believer that the best of the human spirit resides in a man’s ideas and his pursuits thereof.

I’m a flawed American, Mrs. Obama, as most of us are. Quite the truth. But I’m also an uplifter. Never will I tear down another. Nothing gains a man or woman in such a flimsy endeavor. Nothing.

The impetus for this letter, however, is certainly not my own life. Far from.

As you’re aware, a substantial portion of the Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2 series, as well as the Romance by Rg2 running theme, has been devoted to both you and President Obama. I simply want to offer thanks.

I feel privileged to have been lucky enough to walk this earth simultaneous to your and your family’s emergence and historic precedence in this current chapter of the American experiment.

To say that you’ve been a breath of fresh air is utter anti-hyperbole. Democracy is gritty. It’s slugfest-like. It’s heartbreaking. It’s sometimes hypocritical. It certainly can be ugly.

But ultimately democracy is oh so beautiful. It is via democracy that your family came to the fore. And I was privileged with the opportunity to write about it.

Lucky, I.

These are days of grace. We all can do a little better. And we will. We’re a blessed people, we Americans.

And your family is an example of that: A blessing.

The American history, citizenship, politics and government books that were required reading during my K-12 and higher education matriculation made no mention of the Obamas and others of your ilk those years ago. Just think, those now written and yet to be written and published will include this new chapter of the American experience–required reading, no less.

Lucky, I.

Lucky, we.

I simply want to express my sincere thanks.

Oh, and happy Pamper-Her-Friday to you and those beautiful First Daughters.

Tender are my thoughts,
Rg2

___________________________

***

God, pamper the women . . . and bless America. -Rg2

© 2014 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

The Captivatingly Beautiful Ms. Chantelle Brown-Young, Vitiligo Spokesmodel, America’s Next Top Model Contestant

“The Enchanting Spell of Chantelle”

Chantelle, I’d call it just short of a spell
that which you cast like a heaven’s rain,
In a world seduced by eye-length beauty
My heart responds to a deeper refrain:

The beholder defines the visual art
Less pupil or cornea than soul-touch,
When a woman walks in without pretense
My, does she move the grounded man much

More than cosmetology’s sleight-of-face wonders
There’s that little hesitant girl within,
Just in case she wasn’t hugged enough
A truer caring lives around the bend

Muffled snickers and callous jeers
may well linger from yesterday,
Can I relinquish the sneers and the curious leers?
A man needs inspiration for Pamper-Her-Friday

Validation not needed–to hell with that
Our Heavenly Father knows what he’s doing,
Angels are sent to beautify the earth . . .
. . . the prejudicial mind’s ungluing

Spread your wings, enchanting woman, go forth
take your place among the celestial stars,
I’m telescoping your flight with endless smiles
You’ve empowered me to shed my own scars

Writing with proof and inviting the truth
Sade sang we’re all hurting inside,
But one life is all each of us is given
True love cannot the darkness hide

May countless others look upon you
and know that their mirror is indeed a friend,
And may the most imperfect man kiss your hand
introducing hypocrisy to its end

Ever higher may you fly, a ribbon in the sky
Blaze a trail revealed to others a way,
A higher love to which we all can aspire
I honor you this Pamper-Her-Friday.

___________________

***

“Growing up, it was a ‘fake it ’til you make it’ type of thing. I just decided, ‘You know what? I’m going to keep telling myself I’m beautiful until I feel beautiful.’ And it happened.” -Chantelle Brown-Young

© 2014 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

“A Summer Jones Renewed”

Now, we both know a woman doesn’t fall for just any man
By all means, I suggest you draw your line in the sand

So I can step over and across like I’m the one anointed
to erase the pain of my predecessor who only disappointed

Your I-deserve-to-be-treasured sense and sensibilities
Allow me to wash away all traces of the iniquities

Visited upon you in past relationships gone awry
Go ahead, let it go, let out that one final cry

So long trapped, stowed away in the emotional vault within
I’ve got the secret passcode, woman, with flowers I’m walking in

To take up summer residence, the beach house of your heart
A surf and turf feast I’ve prepared–but will you take part?

Or will I be shore dining alone . . . wouldn’t that be a shame?
I need a sandcastle collaborator and I’m spelling out your name

Next to my own, bordered by a heart, so visible from the sky
Take a pillow seat and bare your feet, the tingle before your sigh

You can attribute to the allure of my pamper-her talent trove
Now come, I’ll bring the wine, I know of a hidden cove

Beneath the cliffs, a few degrees west, encrusted with gemstones
Holding hands along the way, a confirmation of this jones

I see so clearly in your eyes and feel so warmly in your hand
On our return we will notice: no longer that line in the sand

Erased by rolling waters, symbolic of the pain washed away
This is our summer of love renewed, a special Pamper-Her-Friday.

____________________________

***

Pamper the woman . . . and forever live in her soul. -Rg2

© 2014 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®