AmethaWilliams.com  

Here is where I will post my poetry and short stories. Feel free to check them out at any time. However, my stuff is my stuff and is copyrighted and protected by law.

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Desire

The touch of a hand against the softness of a cheek, feeling, holding, worshipping, flesh that is firm and tender.

Legs long and slender, that trembled against the caress of skillful fingers.

Strong are the fingers that mold and shape, transforming a young girl into a beautiful woman; fingers that explore the interfolds of the virgin’s flower.

Until the probing digit pierces deep inside and touches the soul, until cries arise from her young white throat.

When pleasure is fulfilled and needs are meet, and the flower has withered and the memories of passion linger; from a night she will never forget.

                                    Touch

The gentle crawl of a single finger down the hollows of a cheek; feeling the electricity in its touch.

Waiting fondly for the digit to follow the curves and lines down to the neck.

A simple caress of the hand against the nape of a neck,

Touching flesh that is soft and subtle of a body that is strong and young.

Arms, legs, hearts entwined as new emotions and sensations fill the mind with thoughts of grandeur and delight.

Until two bodies become one from dawn until night then linger with each other savoring the feel of one another.

Laying together in the night, they marvel at the glory, the phenomenon that is touch.

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Troubled

At night I lay awake, restless, my mind unsound.

I hear voices, I see faces in the patterns on the wall,

Out from the shadows creep hands hideous and revile,

Pulling at my skin, my heart crying within my human case

Begging God to set me free

Sleep won’t come easily, so I chase my demons away with a bottle of auburn, red, blue, or crystal clear paradise

Until I am no longer conscious of the world and the demons are gone

My nightmares of terror replaced with dreams of white, and angels hold me in their arms and sing away my troubles with sweet lullabies.

 Blood and Water

With the thrust of a soldier’s spear, his flesh was pierced, and from the jagged opening came blood in a steady flow.

It flowed from his wound onto the ground, penetrating the soil and awakening the earth.

And the earth was stirred into a fury,

The earth began to reel and rock.

The earth began to shake and quake.

In protest of what mankind had done to their merciful creator.

Then the earth gave up it’s dead and the souls of prophets walked the earth again.

But with the thrust of the spear also came water,

Water for the cleansing of human souls, for the renewing of God’s communion, and for the quenching of man’s eternal thirst.

Water for the washing of our hearts and making them new.

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Whosoever Will Let them come!

Let them come who seek rest!

Let them come who seek peace of mind!

Let them come who are not ashamed!

Let them come who are not fearful!

Let them that seek freedom come out from the shadows of the oppressors!

Whosoever will let them come!

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Map of the Soul

It’s easy to get lost in a world filled with twist and turns.

In a world where everyday is a new event, a new occurrence that changes the way one may feel or think.

Until things that once seemed so familiar change into objects that are peculiar.

Different emotions flooding the senses threatening to drown out everything that makes sense, until there is nothing left of what was and something new arrives to take its place.

And substance is created from nothingness and light appears where darkness once stirred.

Soon the twists and turns evolve into a distinct direction and the road traveled becomes crystal clear.

And you are no longer afraid of where you are going because you know that you are half way there.

Passing the time

She stands on the porch,

Her dress swinging in the breeze of a summer day,

She hums and dances in a simple motion that takes her body back and forth,

On the radio, Sam Cooke sings her into a melodious bliss,

The sun shines down sending a angelic rays of gold through the sheer sun dress.

As if to offer her body as a worthy sacrifice to the worshipping eyes of nosy passersby,

Alone and happy dancing on the porch on a hot summer day, peace of mind and all the simple things of life is all that’s needed to pass the time.

My Demons: My Torture

My demons come in the darkness of night, only when I am alone.

They arrive at the witching hour like a gust of wind that chills me to the bone.

No matter how hard I try, I cannot suppress them.

The demons will always rise above my blockade.

My disillusionment has convinced me that the lies I have told myself are real.

My lies feed their hunger, which is never satisfied.

I continue to lie trying to convince my weary mind that my demons are at last pacified.

In the end, the truth prevails.

These Poems can also be purchased in my new book, "Confessions of A Twenty-Something Virgin" published by Lulu Press. The book can be previewed for free on Lulu.com and if you like what you see you can purchase a hard-copy or download a copy. Just visit Lulu.com and type in my name or the name of the book or click on this picture of the book  to buy: