CThru.com Presents Tony Ward Studio

TWS

Posted on August 6, 2012 by A.H. Scott

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THE BURN THAT REMAINS

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Whirl of smoke rolls from my lips,
Oh, and to think I don’t even smoke cigarettes
Well, no matter my dearest love
When your lips meet mine, I feel the gentle peace of the dove
Draped over my thighs, her legs were slim unlike mine
But, burning with her was my exploration of the flame
Oh, my goodness she is the burn that remains
She knew how to affect even a less than lovely Jane such as me
This was a siren that could make both sides of the fence sweat
She did with me
And, I sit here smiling with glee
But, then again, we never know what stirs beneath the stillness

Copyright 2012
Editor’s Note: To read more poetry by A.H. Scott, go to the search bar at the top of the page: enter name and click green icon.

TWS

Posted on July 25, 2012 by A.H. Scott

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He knows me
He knows the way I twist the telephone cord around my fingers when I talk
He knows how ticklish I am when he plays footsie with me at dinner
He knows my scream when we ride on a roller-coaster
He knows that secret spot behind my knee that drives me crazy
He knows my measurements just by running his hands up and down me
He knows I’m a flinch during the booming of thunder
He knows my thoughts, just by looking at me
He knows I can’t swim too well, so he supports me with his strong arms
He knows the way I try to be brave, even when I’m not
He knows I’m afraid of bugs, so he teases me with pranks
He knows my laugh and my sigh
He knows the way I doodle when I’m bored
He knows I love to hold his hand when we’re walking along
He knows there is no where else that I’d rather be at this moment
He knows me…..

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Copyright 2012
Editor’s Note: To read more poetry by A.H. Scott, go to the search bar at the top of the page: enter name and click green icon.

Tell Me

Posted on July 3, 2012 by A.H. Scott

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TELL ME

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Tell me your dreams as we lay together in your bed
Tell me about your journeys of the past and ahead
Tell me why I can feel your heart as I rest my head upon your chest
Tell me am I making your pulse race ever so fast
Tell me that your respect for me will always last
Tell me why when we first met, you seemed so aloof and uninterested in me
Tell me why has it changed now
Tell me that since I’ve come into your life it’s been like a playful pow
Tell me what’s going on between us is a wave of fun
Tell me if have I become what makes you smile and hum
Tell me why when I take a shower you just like to watch
Tell me what you see in me as I’m adorned in my suit of a birthday long gone by
Tell me being ordinary is what brings upon a tender grin from your lips
Tell me that you’re amused and aroused by me from hip to hip
Tell me my curves doesn’t turn you off
Tell me your hands are so capable to handle me when my clothes come off
Tell me a brain inside of a blonde doesn’t make you wanna run for the nearest manufactured beauty queen
Tell me a man as sexy as you could find a thrill in sparring with me
Tell me you enjoy being with me dusk and dawn
Tell me that I’m a woman that never leads you to sit back and yawn
Tell me – do I make you happy?

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Tell Me

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Tell Me

Copyright 2012
Editor’s Note: To read more poetry by A.H. Scott, go to the search bar at the top of the page: enter name and click green icon.

TWS

Posted on June 29, 2012 by A.H. Scott

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AIR OF MIDNIGHT

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Midnight absolute
Midnight traces time through path of tears and crimson
Midnight attracts
Midnight attacks
Midnight conceives
Midnight deceives
Midnight consumes
Midnight looms
Midnight howls
Midnight scowls
Midnight smirks
Midnight flirts
Midnight demands
Midnight commands
Midnight controls
Midnight scolds

Midnight deflates
Midnight inebriates

Midnight abyss
Midnight bliss
Midnight pain
Midnight pleasure
Midnight pomposity
Midnight treasure
Midnight shivers
Midnight slivers
Midnight complete
Midnight defeat
Midnight laughs
Midnight gaffes
Midnight love
Midnight hate
Midnight obsession
Midnight indifference
Midnight past
Midnight creepin’
Midnight memory
Midnight forgetting
Midnight insanity
Midnight humanity
Midnight prayers
Midnight layers
Midnight scars upon a sullen soul
Midnight obliterates secrets told
Midnight devotion
Midnight disillusion
Midnight whispers
Midnight pouts
Midnight shouts
Midnight in your mind
Midnight all the time
Midnight kind
Midnight brine
Midnight transference
Midnight prurience
Midnight beyond the moon
Midnight changes chaos’ tune
Midnight deals
Midnight steals
Midnight has taken the best of you
Midnight bats a lash of an eye
Midnight knows what to flash and why
Midnight exposed
Midnight repose
Midnight cares
Midnight dares
Midnight tempts
Midnight lies
Midnight strips you of your pride
Midnight dangles
Midnight tangles
Midnight strangles
Midnight skills
Midnight drills
Midnight thrills
Midnight takes
Midnight fakes
Midnight is a myth you make
Midnight ploy
Midnight toy
Midnight turns man into boy
Midnight confidence
Midnight immaturity
Midnight solace
Midnight insecurity
Midnight intrusion
Midnight confusion
Midnight promises
Midnight shatters
Midnight oblivious
Midnight obscure
Midnight salutations
Midnight refutations
Midnight forever
Midnight never
Midnight angel
Midnight magic
Midnight brings heartbreak so tragic
Midnight caged your soul in a single stare
Midnight is the rope that always keeps you near
Midnight is absolved of all deeds dark
Midnight pierces your heart just for a lark
Midnight…
….Absolute
She’s succeeded beyond her part.
Dawn’s knocking…
….Let her in, if you’re ready for a new start

Copyright 2012
Editor’s Note: To read more poetry by A.H. Scott, go to the search bar at the top of the page: enter name and click green icon.

TWS

Posted on June 27, 2012 by A.H. Scott

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WRAPPED IN THE WIND

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To find the words, is not the way
Stop looking for the right or wrong words to say
No words are needed by you or I
We speak in silent reflections and sighs
From our first hello, we’ve gone with the flow
It’s like a cloud, so light and free
Sensing one another, is like a breeze blowing through the trees
I see your smile in the ways of the sun
Warm and inviting is your heart and love
Even when the rain falls, I feel your embrace surrounding me
Not a word is whispered from me to you
For my hands will show you my heart
I unbutton my blouse
I unbutton your shirt
And my earnest soul reveals to you that I’m far from just a flirt
Cross my heart
Touch your soul
Fingertips rest against your lips
I know…I know
Utter no words
Unspoken
Unbroken
Unison eternal…..

Copyright 2012
Editor’s Note: To read more poetry by A.H. Scott, go to the search bar at the top of the page: enter name and click green icon.

For You

Posted on June 25, 2012 by A.H. Scott

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FOR YOU

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For you, a certain smile comes to my face
For you, my rose has blossomed
For you, my heart pounds like a bongo
For you, my eyes gaze into yours at the crest of twelve
For you, my arms are empty without being wrapped around your body
For you, my lips are bare without the brushing of your lips against mine
For you, scent of jasmine or rose oil is an aroma of affection for you to sniff
For you, honesty is my maestro in the aria of two souls
For you, time and space is never a boundary
For you….I am…..I am
For you…

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Copyright 2012
Editor’s Note: To read more poetry by A.H. Scott, go to the search bar at the top of the page: enter name and click green icon.

Joy and Pain

Copyright 2012

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There is a single difference between joy and pain
Take the letter I out of pain and you are left with yourself
Singular and solid is I
I won’t let you take away my joy
I will let you take away my joy
Either way, it all comes down to I
Pain without I is just pan
Pan through all the unpleasant things in life
Shake the pan around a bit and you will find flecks of gold
Tiny flickers of exuberance shimmers before your eyes
Joy is within reach
Grime of grimacing
Dirt of distrust
Leave it all in the pan
Joy is there without needing another person to make it for you
It comes down to I
I found joy
I hold onto joy
I embrace joy
I AM JOY..!!

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Copyright 2012

Editor’s Note: To read more poetry by A.H. Scott, go to the search bar at the top of the page: enter name and click green icon.

Love

Posted on May 10, 2012 BY A.H. Scott

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……….It’s ironic that some of those who are most vocal against same sex marriage are those who have dinosaur bones in their own closets. Archbishop Timothy Dolan, here in NYC, said that ‘it’s a sad day for the children’. WTF?!!!! Now, I know I’m probably going to feel a little pitchfork in my butt for saying that. But, c’mon, Catholic Church. You above all other institutions want to talk about sin. Look inward instead of outward for what sin truly is. And, then there’s Mitt Romney who says “I believe marriage is between one man and one woman”. And, when I heard him say that, I was waiting for him to add ..”I believe marriage is between one man and one woman….and one woman….and another woman. WTF? That’s the history of Romney’s own ancestors of multiple wives. And, of course, Newt (Mr. Married Again and Again) Gingrich. And, all the other hypocrites down the line speak morality for themselves only. So, those who have all these rights already (and never have to enter a court to validate them) are always bitchin and moanin about the destruction of the institution of marriage, if gay men and lesbian woman get married would live by the words they love to always spout; show some Christian compassion and brotherhood and – LET LOVE RULE..!!”

Copyright 2012

About The Author: Editor’s Note: To read more of A.H. Scott, go to the search bar at the top of the page: enter name and click green icon.

Artwork by Mikel Elam

Posted on April 13, 2012 by A. H. Scott

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……….Even though most of us won’t admit it so easily, we sometimes may judge others by appearance or perception. Yet, as the old adage goes, never judge a book by it’s cover. Leather bound books seem ever so strong. While a dog-eared paperback seems flimsy and easily broken. Just look beneath the cover and find something with a bit of magic inside. Some packaging may be shimmering. And, others may seem rusted. Alas, it is what is inside of that book that truly attracts. What may seem a cactus from afar, can actually be a soft blanket that caresses your flesh and soul.

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ABLAZE

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His fingers were like candles, lighting my flesh with every touch
Virility mixed with sweat and fervency, takes me to places too savage to mention out loud
Tiny hairs on my neck were the wicks those fingers ignited in a tender touch
Heat me up with your body thrusting like gladiator in the arena of lust
No doubt any woman in your midst is always left a humble miss
Sonnet of the bard or philosopher from ancient Rome are recounted with authority from your lips
Behind the grunt, you are a charming chap
No wonder why I ended up in your lap
Strands of my hair cascade over the mattress, as your tempting tide overtakes me
From afar, you seemed like a hard nut to crack
Yet, after a while of knocking on the castle walls, your resistance crumbled to my kisses
The fire is real within me now
Whispered words from you to me are the gift the angels have allowed
Pores are opened and drenched with delight
Ablaze with volcanic encounters with you in the night..

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Editor’s Note: To read more of A.H. Scott’s poetry, go to the search bar at the top of the page: enter name and click green icon. To see more artwork by Mikel Elam, do the same.

Hot and Cold

Posted on March 18, 2012 by A.H. Scott

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Tony –
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……….Well, let me first warn you about this poem. It’s definitely not erotic at all. It’s about domestic violence against women. I was inspired to write it after seeing an image on a poster of a battered woman. And, it just blew me away. “Hot and Cold” is the title and even if you don’t ever use this poem on your site, I just wanted to read it. Thanks for everything you’ve done in our collaboration so far, TW..;)

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HOT and COLD

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Hot is feel of every punch you leave upon my skin
Cauldron of words scorch the soul
Get it over with and leave me alone
It’s always the same, when you say it’s all my fault
My tears have all run dry
My heart has been hollowed out
Cold compress against my bruises I hold
Balled up fist cranked back for another punch
No longer do I scream, for you have taken my voice
Holding onto this floor, as if it were my safety blanket
Impression of your fist against my skin has formed several islands of pain
Black and blue and brown are some
Yet, those that have started healing are turning a yellowish hue
I’ll be the perfect wife
I’ll be the perfect cook
I’ll be the perfect f**k for you
Just don’t hit me again
I’ll be anything but your punching bag anymore
My voice has become a smothered whisper as I promise you on this floor
As your fist unclenched, you actually rub my back and walk away
Cold compress I press to my face
My soul is ripped and needs to be replaced
Heart that once was full of life, has now become shattered in your wake
I drag myself off this floor and make breakfast as I always do for you
You come into the kitchen, eat and everything is as if it never happened
A smile from your lips and a kiss on the cheek as you leave, lets my guard down again
That voice I had lost has started to peep, as I think about what I should do
Grabbing some things and tossing them in a bag isn’t easy, but neither is staying with you
I have a few hours before you come home
These are the moments I spend alone
Should I leave him?
Should I stay?
I walk into the bathroom with a lip bloodied and a tooth chipped and decayed
Cold water I splash across my face
My life here will end soon….
If I stay, it will be at his hands I shall leave
Yet, if I go, it will be my voice I am going to retrieve
Clothes are crumpled into a plastic bag and placed by the door
I look around at our home and it’s like I’m a stranger there now
Damnit, I can’t go
Damnit, I can’t stay
My heart says I love him
My body says no way
I’m GONE
I’m GONE
MY VOICE HAS RETURNED TO ME…..!!!

Copyright 2012

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About The Author: Draped in freedom’s spirit, A.H. Scott is a sizzling scribe of unveiling sensuality. Residing in New York City, this writer is armed with pouting pen of passion and pulsating digits pounding against keyboard. Between this lady’s manicured fingers, a snaggy stylus lacerates parchment and masticates digits against a misting keyboard towards a just climax literary longing. She’s a new voice and vision of fiction. who has been writing short stories and poetry ever since childhood.