August MacGregor

Celebrating Sensuality. Intended for mature audiences, 18 and over


20 Comments

A Slower Pace of Blogging

Another month has wrapped up, and I want to thank all of you who read my poems in February and gave such wonderful comments. Truly, I was surprised about the reactions. In planning for February, I wanted to publish a love poem a day, and I didn’t think beyond that. It turned out that these poems gathered more likes than anything else I’ve written on this blog.

So, thank you. You’ve humbled me.

Now I’m turning to look ahead. My posting will slow down a lot, compared with posting daily in January and February. This comes for two reasons.

Most importantly, I need to focus more on my day job — as I’ve been allowing that to slip. Time management is definitely not one of my strengths, and I’ve got to get back on track for my job.

The other reason is that, as I carve out time to write, I’m going back to work on stories that are longer than poems and flash fiction.

Through the past few years, I’ve published 24 erotic and romantic ebooks, from short stories, to novellas, to a novel. Given the amount of my works in progress, I could certainly churn out many more of these. Sexy stories are a thrill to write. So I’ll be looking to wrap up some of these stories and publish them as ebooks.

But I’m also going to work on other types of stories, due to a creative urge to go beyond sex as a big part of storytelling.

Also, there’s a practical reason to see how non-erotic ebooks would sell. February has been a small uptick in sales for me, probably because I put all my ebooks on sale at 99 cents each. I’m grateful for my sales, as there are so many options for entertainment out there. It’s wonderful to me when someone chooses one of my books.

I have to wonder if non-erotic books would sell better and help get me closer to becoming a full-time writer. After all, according to the July 2014 Author Earnings Report, erotica represented only 1.2% of ebook sales on Amazon for that month’s snapshot.

My non-erotic stories will not fit under my August pen name, but will be published under my own name. I would like to eventually get to a point where I find a kind of balance, when I work some on erotica and some on non-erotic stories.

This doesn’t mean I’m saying good-bye to this blog. I will be popping back in now and then. You’ll see a poem occasionally, as I still have many of those that I haven’t published here yet. In diving into love poetry for February, a book of poems resulted — something I hadn’t planned. So, I’ll be sharing more of the poems in there.

And I’ll be popping in to read your blogs, too. Since starting this blog a little more than a year ago, I’ve made fantastic connections with you guys, and I’ve enjoyed your beautiful writing. I’m certainly going to come back and enjoy more of it.

Thank you again for supporting my blog. Your likes and comments have been wonderful, as continue on this journey as a writer. I deeply appreciate you.


15 Comments

A Beginning

“Let love into your heart,”
she whispered.
“Life is much better with it. Trust me. Trust me on this one.”

His face rose,
from looking at his feet, to seeing her.

“Let yourself be vulnerable,”
she said softly.
“Let yourself be loved. And let yourself love someone else.”

She smiled at him. A smile of warmth,
light in the dark room.
“You’ve been alone for too long.”

He nodded. A gentle nod.
It wasn’t a lot, but she didn’t expect a lot.
It was a beginning.


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“I Want to Die While You Love Me” by Georgia Douglas Johnson

sun shining through trees, by Tony Armstrong (Flickr, Creative Commons)

Tony Armstrong (Flickr, Creative Commons)

I Want to Die While You Love Me

Georgia Douglas Johnson

I want to die while you love me,
While yet you hold me fair,
While laughter lies upon my lips
And lights are in my hair.

I want to die while you love me,
And bear to that still bed,
Your kisses turbulent, unspent
To warm me when I’m dead.

I want to die while you love me
Oh, who would care to live
Till love has nothing more to ask
And nothing more to give?

I want to die while you love me
And never, never see
The glory of this perfect day
Grow dim or cease to be!

*****

From The Book of American Negro Poetry (1922), edited by James Weldon Johnson. Source of poem: Poetryfoundation.org. The photo above is used under the non-commercial Creative Commons license. Click on image to jump to photographer’s Flickr page.


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Piece by Piece

Piece by piece
of clothing
dropped to the floor.
Night by night
the clothing was shed,
to be picked up
the next morning
in less rushed times.

This shedding
was much more comfortable
than the shedding
of some of
the fortifications around his heart
as he shared
some of the
multitude of his emotions with her.

Lust,
she told him,
is easier than love.
But love is much deeper.
You are right to be careful with your heart.
And I will also be careful with it.


13 Comments

Forever and Ever Diamonds

diamond ring, by Tim S (Flickr, Creative Commons)

Tim S (Flickr, Creative Commons)

Diamonds,
the company wants us to know,
are forever.

And that’s true even when
the relationship has ended.

The jewel a sparkling reminder
of what once was.

And happily ever after
was not accomplished,
not this time.

But not all relationships
work out like fairy tales,
diamond marketing, and
romantic comedies.

Moments will sparkle
like that diamond
Moments will cut
like that diamond
Moments will fade away
Moments will last forever,
perhaps polished and multi-faceted,
like that diamond.

*****

The photo above is used under the non-commercial Creative Commons license. Click on image to jump to photographer’s Flickr page.


7 Comments

“A Love Song” by William Carlos Williams

abstract yellow and clouds, by webtreats (Flickr, Creative Commons)

webtreats (Flickr, Creative Commons)

A Love Song

William Carlos Williams

What have I to say to you
When we shall meet?
Yet—
I lie here thinking of you.

The stain of love
Is upon the world.
Yellow, yellow, yellow,
It eats into the leaves,
Smears with saffron
The horned branches that lean
Heavily
Against a smooth purple sky.

There is no light—
Only a honey-thick stain
That drips from leaf to leaf
And limb to limb
Spoiling the colours
Of the whole world.

I am alone.
The weight of love
Has buoyed me up
Till my head
Knocks against the sky.

See me!
My hair is dripping with nectar—
Starlings carry it
On their black wings.
See, at last
My arms and my hands
Are lying idle.

How can I tell
If I shall ever love you again
As I do now?

*****

From William Carlos Williams’s collection, Poems 1916. Source of poem: Poets.org. The photo above is used under the non-commercial Creative Commons license. Click on image to jump to photographer’s Flickr page.

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