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AGE:
49
LOC: Concord, NC
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: September 27
LOC: Concord, NC
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: September 27
Gene Needham was born in North Carolina. His writings drip as strong as the morning coffee with passion, of loss, and of hope. From his poetry to his novels his descriptive nature stems from his Christian upbringing.
Father of two wonderful daughters, and a grandfather as well, Gene takes his views of that part of his life into his writings as well. Losing a wife, Julie, to ovarian cancer, he has taken the path of helping others both in his daily life and within his writings.
So take a stroll through the mind of a new friend in reading his works! God Bless You and remember life is better when you share it!
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The Son of a Bitch told me I had cancer! I screamed. I wanted to wake up from this nightmare of a dream! Endometriosis diagnosed wrong by an arrogant ass of a man! He took so much more from me than he could ever start to understand. The oncologist gave me six months to live, I had finally found someone that with my love I wanted to give. My love had warned me before the day of the first surgery, You have ovarian cancer! he said while handing me books underlined passages to read. I cursed him ...
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Fresh is the passion I draw from your lips, A soul can journey throughout time for this. Gentle the touch within your fingertips, Moments spent devouring you bring true bliss. None before have embraced this man's spirit, Nor found the path leading them to my heart. For passion, for love, to speak, to hear it, Aching I feel you tearing me apart. Here this moment wanting to taste of you, To spread those lips heaven in you is found. Caressing, Embracing, raising us through, Enticing, inviting, l...
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In birth, innocense is our beginning. The way we are whether short a rib . . . or having a full set is chosen by a swim of the channel of life. Whether you believe in God or you do not, to know that one moment shared between two people can open the universe for three. The choice to create life is often taken way too lightly, and for the most part it becomes and afterthought. In death, one relives what should have, could have, and would have been if one could relive our lost chapters and chang...
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1 Review
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The steam rising fog all around us, Water cascading down your body as paint upon a canvas. Raising your arms straight above your head, Creating memories . . . forever a testement that shall forever this night brand us. Deeper dove our kisses . . . our hands wrapped together as wandering vines, My eyes embracing the drip of the faucet learning every opening. . . every pore. Up raise our heartbeats, passion permanently moving as a storm front rolling in, Legs crossing the waves of emotion drivi...
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"Left in the dark standing alone wishing to be held sadness covering my skin as a cloak to hide me" Great start for building a piece such as this. With this said I feel afterwards you need to reveal more. Make it drip with the pain, the loss, and the reasons. Draw me deeper into your world. The reality of not being able to have this individual does show in the end.
To some degree, this piece is true to many readers. I have loved and lost so fully grasp this. But I desire to see hope in your future works. Love is constant within us but we have to be willing to reach for it when the opportunity is there.
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A few things: Once a Marine always a Marine. So I would rework the opening sentence. You show he was captured in war, captured in his own madness, and trying his very best to lose the madness within his drug abuse. Good way to run his madness by jumping as you do. It creates a timing of sorts for the piece. To give a more descriptive tone maybe dive into agent orange, the abuse starting in his time serving, and then show him wanting.
Again in this piece your point is well made. The alone you feel is a personal hell, the cutting is not only a chance for escape but a way to feel alive as well. Keep working on your expressions and descriptions.
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