Each dawn, from the serene, blue sky
The warmth of your voice descends,
A yellow bird of longing singing
A wistful song while fluttering amid
The white flowers growing upon my chest
And bathing in the water of the creek
Flowing amid the passion of my breasts.
A tear weeps from my eye,
A silent prayer seeking for the warmth
Of your cheek where it may burn and rest
To breathlessly fall into the garden,
A white pearl filled with the fire
Of a thousand poems and dreams
And be carried upon the bird’s blazing wings,
A message, an everlasting promise
Returning home to your face,
The radiant silence of dawn’s white sky.
Rooted in Love 
Pierre,
Love this….your style is so beautiful…I love your imagery of nature, with bodies and spirits, passions of all kinds, beauty and awe.
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All things are alive, so fecund and fertile and vibrant in spirit and life, and are always calling upon us, luring us into communion and dance while burning at the very thought of our touch and breath. That has always been the world for me, and as I acquire depth and colour it becomes deeper and more colourful, the dance grows more ecstatic and passionate and sensual pushing towards greater heights of laughter and pleasure — and love.
Glad you are enjoying my poetry.
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And greater heights of suffering as well.
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I just saw this…why suffering Pierre?
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In all change and flux there is a measure of pain and death. All great birth is heralded by great death. In every womb there is a hollow tomb. That is the way of life.
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