William Shakespeare (from A Midsummer Night’s Dream)

And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.

Ray Bradbury

Any man who keeps working is not a failure. He may not be a great writer, but if he applies the old-fashioned virtues of hard, constant labor, he’ll eventually make some kind of career for himself as writer.

Sidney Sheldon

A blank piece of paper is God’s way of telling us how hard it to be God.


Dylan Thomas

The world is never the same once a god poem has been aded to it.




Breathlessly afraid 

                           Fying in a dream

After crossing the coma of pain

Beloved and I rediscover love

Shuttling secret thoughts between 

Exquisite promises 

                             Anticipating prohibited passion

                             Steaming love affair.


Strut like a favorite to wild applause

Tempting with the choicest

Blossoms of a most seductive garden.


Promises take shape                    

Hardly after the first kiss left lips

Room gather around us

Looking glass embrace us

                           Endearing perspectives.


See ourselves loved deep

Each other eyes and longings

Like children

                      Unfolding fairy tale

                      No less credulous.


Folding each other

                       Drawing deep into ecstatic dreams

Filling each with heavy warmth

                       The taste of impassioned lips

Flesh, the pale cloth of the moon 

        Fragrance , sweet-clean as a sunned linen.



Our touch, our needs

Open like roses 

Warm rain has fallen;


Beloved enters the deep unknown forest

Carrying away

Rediscovering love

Seductive garden.


Wonderfully heavy in  arms

Softly melt 

Sweet scent of passion

Dripping across lips

Long and well loved.


Sleep transports

Into own body

Whole with love

Beautiful with fantasy.


Awake side by side 

                 Enchanted lovers in a legend                      

Remembering last long

Parting of  lips.



Carry away

   Loving strong arms

Nights and days of love 





Donna LeClair

                              TOUCH ME

 Touch me 

                         secret places no one has reached before

                         silent places words interfere

                         sad places whispering makes sense

                         happy places our hearts as children played


Touch me

                      daybreak, darkness no longer clings to us

                       midday, perplexity of our responsibilities engulf us

                                 wear of the day tugs at our vulnerability

                       nightfall, begin to know who we are

                                open the door to another lost in the furry

                                                       closing of flashes

hear and see each other’s susceptibility

sliver the rigidity masking our identity

conceding the virginity of now

crying out to each and every core

entire being

twilight safely tucks us in

dreams magically

dancing on foreheads

gently kiss

tender lips


Touch me

                  tightly throughout the night

                     strong protective arms

                     build a castle around my weary body

                                   snuggle deeply

                                     let myself be


                                                like an infant

                                  cradle of your arms


Touch me

                    like a child

                    never had enough love

         I am somebody wants to be lost in your arms

                                   known enough pain to love

                                   strong enough to give

                                   wise enough to need


Touch me

                         crowds, a single look says everything

                         solitude, too dark to see

                         absence, I reach for you and cry out your name

                                           Through time and space



Touch me

                           when i ask

                              I am afraid to ask

                              my eyes are begging


                              Touch me with your soul





                                                         simple presence in a room


Touch me


                         I need to weaken

                                         I am a woman who has known pain

                                             child silently suffered

                                                    lady pride in her feelings

                                                    person, longs to be seen

                                                    lover, will love back



 I will touch you in all the same ways

Through time and distance

Waking and sleeping


And a day

Throughout the depths of time


We touch.


Donna LeClair



THERE WERE TIMES IN MY LIVES when the world shuddered to a complete halt, and I stopped to think. Longing to turn back the clock. To correct all of my mistakes. To eat all of my words. The sun ceased moving, the wind blowing, the flowers growing because nothing would ever be the same.


No one noticed. No one seemed to care.

Nothing was ever the same.


Invisible was I. I do not mean not seen, but seen through and rendered ethereal. Floating like a plankton in a wide ocean. Hanging on for brief moments, then swept away into unfamiliar territory with different weather, miscellaneous panorama. My hands slipping loose in icey waters whispering the unheard, the unsaid, the misunderstood. Frantically jumping to conclusions. Disappearing into the loneliness.Fading into the darkness of the cold unsettled sea.


In the rattling of the strong and persistent wind,

 a woman cries, a man wanders - lost in the wilderness.

 Both are alone. Both wonder why.

Rain falls, thunder crashes, and a dark cloud unfolds

when through a twist of fate,

 a fork of chosen paths divides the sea

that once, as children,

in the deep blue

 they played.


Whispering waters always pass. Slowly . With the change of the wind and the heat of the atmosphere. Tides roll in, crashing against the jagged edges and in a cobwebbed corner dances the unspoken, the unheard, the misunderstood. Echoing in the sound of a lost doves' cry. Cries that silently slither around those cold and windy places where silent assumptions hide their faulty conclusions. Cries buried in the dark clefts where the unsaid is echoed with uncomfortable friction. Cries that awaken the pain that at the thought hearts do quiver.


Invisible, the massive world is not

the sun, it moves without a thought

the wind blows while time stands still

And Love, through providence of spoken words

does choose a path of pristine territory

in the clear blue sea where hearts do flutter

awakened by the passing of the whispering waters

                          echoed in a lost dove’s cry.


Someone noticed. Someone cared. 

                                           Nothing was ever the same.




Donna LeClair

Words are singularly the most powerful force available to humanity. We can choose to use this force constructively with words of encouragement, or destructively using words of despair. Words have energy and power with the ability to help, to heal, to hinder, to hurt, to harm, to humiliate and to humble.

Yehuda Berg