Monthly Archives: June 2015

Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 267: ‘The Vanishing Picnic’: ‘A Summer’s Romance’ Collection by Rg2 (68) Volume IV

Country picnic

“The Vanishing Picnic”

Before natural grasses across the land die away
And all the trees chopped down for development,
Can I take you on a quiet, pamper-her excursion
to affirm that nature is still benevolent?

Further inland to find the perfect umbrella tree
I’ll set up something of an intimate camp,
Your favorite fruit edibles and light comestibles
I’ve even stowed away an after-sunset lamp

I’ll need the light when I begin to recite
The lines of verse I’ve written in your name,
For what is a summer picnic without poetry
To your heart, girl, I’m staking my claim

Look there, to the sky, a half-moon in daylight
The other half? Surely she lies next to me,
My chest provides the perfect headrest
I notice you’re breathing more easily

Trust me, Love, that’s no coincidence
Considering the underappreciated life you live,
You only want to be cared for genuinely
But can you find it in your heart to forgive

Me . . . gosh, a man can be so reckless
His judgement and devotion called into question,
But examine his overall body of work
His potential is worthy of your intercession

Each saint has a past, every sinner a future
Can a picnic offer a chance at redemption?
Come with me and say what’s in your heart
Woman, I’m not asking you for an exemption

From the standards you hold, your invaluable worth
I see you clearly above the fray,
But understand my attempts at self-preservation
There’s much about life a good man must weigh

A summertime picnic can reveal a great deal
How does it feel . . . just being in my company?
The simple pleasure offers the greatest reward
Come bare your feet on the blanket and you’ll agree

Few moments compare to a shared picnic
Listen to my heartbeat, what does it say?
I’ve never seen you breathe so easily
You’re in my arms on Pamper-Her-Friday.



Pamper the woman . . . like a summer’s romance. -Rg2

© 2015 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

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Posted by on June 27, 2015 in Pamper-Her-Friday


Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 266: Terrorism: We’re All Vulnerable, A Love Letter

. . . God, pamper the world . . . . -Rg2

. . . God, pamper the world . . . . -Rg2


My Angel,

Would you mind if I hold you just a little closer tonight?

It’s not that all my previous embraces lacked the conviction of the one for which I ask on this day. Not at all. After all, a hug, a hold should have meaning, no? To exude, to console, to affirm, to protect, even to convey what words simply cannot.

You know what I wish for? What I’m about to write likely will come across as silly, uneducated, far-fetched and illogical as anything I’ve ever expressed to you . . . or anyone else for that matter: I wish God would, for those of us who must live on this earth for the short while that we exist, cast an invisible protective shield around the good- and pure-hearted among us, the void-of-hatred humans among us, the just-want-to-be-our-humanly-best among us.

Not so shielded that our goodness and mercy can’t permeate the fortress and infect others with God’s light. No, not so fortified that our children can’t be touched by the glimmer of humanity that is our only saving grace. Instead, shielded so air-tightly, so impenetrably that harm cannot pierce it, that terrorism cannot break its armor, that hatred cannot transfer itself–ever!

At this point in my life, I can honestly say that I no longer know if ‘good’ will always win out over ‘evil.’ Presumably because so many of us are capable of both. I still like ‘good’s’ odds but, I swear, evil is a heck of an adversary, sometimes seemingly outmaneuvering good at the most critical times when good is so very needed.

My grandfather once told me that people who hate were rarely, if ever, hugged growing up, and their lives unfold contrary to their inner ideal. I can only imagine the number of times a terrorist was hugged.

Of course I realize it’s not a cure-all, a hug. Naive though I sometimes am, I understand the frailty of humanness, the vulnerability in humanity. We’re all vulnerable.

Only love can conquer hate? Gosh, angel, I admit I don’t know anymore. I mean, in order to love, shouldn’t people ‘want’ to love? Maybe it’s losing its luster. Man, hate sure seems like it’s winning.

Which is why that shield, to my own naive mind, is so very needed. The haters appear to be the growth population, the demographic on serious lurch. Dwindling appears to be the love-capable.

We’re vulnerable, my angel. Now more than ever.

I’m certain others would promptly laugh at my ‘shield’ wish. But is it truly such an odd, naive prayer? If so, I won’t share it with anyone else. I’ll keep it between myself and my Heavenly Father.

But for good measure, allow me to shield you tonight, in my arms. I wanna hold you just a little closer. And share with you a prayer for the nine God-revering souls who lost their lives in Charleston, and their families.

I want to hug and hold an angel tonight.

It’s Pamper-Her-Friday. God help us all.

With faith,



Pamper the world . . . for humanity’s sake. -Rg2

© 2015 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

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Posted by on June 19, 2015 in Pamper-Her-Friday


Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 265: ‘A Summer’s Romance’ Collection by Rg2 (67) Vol. IV: ‘Last Summer Remains’


“Last Summer Remains”

What is this thing summer season love . . .
Phenomenon, heart theory, or purely rubbish?
Think back, will you, this time last year
The last love letter went nearly unpublished

No dweller in the past am I, my friend
We can’t simply pick up where we left off,
But you never quite uttered a goodbye
And what of that kiss you blew aloft . . . ?

Releasing your hand from the intimacy of mine
We reckoned it was our last summer touch,
Watching you walk away in the beach sand distance
Gosh, I didn’t think they’d linger as much . . .

As they have, recollections and reflections
of open-air, by-starlight concerts by the bay,
Unfolding your stadium chair next to mine
Mesmerized by the saxophones at play

No outward displays of endearment we agreed
But notice we never put it in writing,
The verbal contract proved hard to honor
And your girlfriends spoke of the romantic sighting . . .

That was you standing so freely in my space
Laughing at my khakis rolled at ankle cuff,
But it was you who bought them for me, woman
Then wanting me shirtless to admire the buff

Uh huh, summeritis had surely set in
Those hot and humid nights inviting ice play,
Midnight movies on projector in the grass
Grilled salmon and zucchini at sunset–replay . . .

I do the memories of your editing my script
scrawled over the hammock in my button shirt,
Swinging you nostalgically beneath the oak’s arm
Admiring your beauty in the floral wrap skirt

Yeah, you put a little heart-rush on me, girl
Can you honestly say you didn’t enjoy our season?
I realize a man shouldn’t live in the past
Though if you’re willing, we’ve ample reason

To consider the kiss you gently blew aloft
I swear, it seems to have found my cheek,
This Pamper-Her-Friday has me thinking of you
I must admit: It’s your summertime touch I seek . . .

For a summer’s romance.

What do you say?



Pamper the woman . . . for an unforgettable summer. –Rg2

© 2015 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

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Posted by on June 12, 2015 in Pamper-Her-Friday


Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 264: A Woman Needs Alone Time, A Love Letter

P.S.: Pamper-Her-Friday

P.S.: Pamper-Her-Friday


Dear _______,

Though the essence of Pamper-Her-Friday is to enhance the woman’s life in various ways creative, innovative, and meaningful, whether by touch or sentiment, pampering may also manifest itself in giving you something just as thoughtful: Your space.

Are there not times when a woman wishes to simply be left alone . . . with her thoughts, her memories, her own self-indulgences?

As I understand human nature, occasionally a woman prefers to be left to her own devices in the happenings of her days and nights, the opportunity to get in her own way–others uninvited.

Yesterday I granted you alone time, off-the-phone time, in-your-zone time, despite my Pamper-Her-Friday proclivities. I dampened my want-to-see-you inclinations yesterday.

Sure, I wanted to scoop you up in my motor chariot, the door open curbside only a few paces from your doorstep, and deliver a clutch of seasonal, handpicked flowers symbolic of the content of my heartbeats synched to your exact bio-rhythms.

Of course I would’ve loved to have taken you to the grand opening of the couples-only, fresh Moroccan-Brazilian fusion eatery and jazz lounge off the coast yesterday.

No question I wanted to coil my arm around your wanting shoulders at our direct-line-view-of-the-stage, candlelit table while Carlos Santana string-serenaded the privileged guests–the beautiful women onlookers namely.

And, by all means, I would have eagerly yet so smoothly escorted you to the dance floor, your temple rested against my chin, eyes helpless to closure, your body sweetly surrendered to my embrace, as I whispered my twilight, on-the-cusp-of-summer intentions for you and me in the coming days . . . as the music played.

Absolutely, I harbored those very thoughts of you yesterday, in honor of Pamper-Her-Friday. However, I reconsidered my assumptions of what would’ve been the right course of action: Was it what you would have truly wanted or was it what I wanted yesterday?

So I gave you your space. I let Pamper-Her-Friday have its way with you . . . without my interference, without my own selfish designs for you and me on that moonlit evening.

Yeah, I decided to not bother you on Pamper-Her-Friday, woman.

But Saturday’s a wholly different proposition.

I’ll be there in an hour, Love.




Pamper the woman . . . with a little romance. –Rg2

© 2015 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®


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Posted by on June 7, 2015 in Pamper-Her-Friday

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