Free Verse # 163 (your rebellious flesh I knead into submission)

Like a moth
following the flame’s breath to her doom,
so I, fluttering from flower to flower,
ache to burn in the fire of you.

~

Like the earth and sky,
opposite yet one,
our union bestows
rain and lightning,
nurturing life
and her infinite ache.

~

So deep inside of me you live,
entwined to my heart, its roots,
so that, every beat emanating from me,
every thought and breath,
every quiver of feeling and flesh,
is, in essence, stained by you.

~

From between our joined palms
and clutched fingers
a flower sprouts,
her dewed petals smiling
and singing, forever…

~

The vibrancy of your kiss
in the dark deeps of me
shivers my lips with a hunger
only your lips can feed

~

My kisses knit –
a blanket of fire
swathing your whole skin.

~

In the evening,
the warmth of our home,
the flickering flame
sways on your face
and I, mesmerized
by the pure poetry,
sway silently…

~

Your dark hair smells of ancient pines;
in the great depth your oceanic eyes
the entire world is drowned.

~

Even if the entire world falls apart we’ll be each other’s bed and sky.

~

Though my love knows no limits, is ardent as a tsunamic wave, its roots strike deeper than the visible stars into the great womb of life.

~

Erect, my poem be a rising titan, arrows of fire licking at the sky.

~

Though I rush and roar
like the wildest river
my thirst and yearning
churn unquenched
lest they flow and merge
into the ocean of you…

~

Let our hearts be
two drops of dew
eager to spill
from our merged lips
into each other
becoming a deep ocean,
the white sky of dawn.

~

Doused one by one, the stars, by the glory of your face.

~

Your rebellious flesh I knead into submission,
soak into it the sacred light of the moon,
invoke its hidden seeds to burst forth, and bloom.

~

A perpetual summer
under my skin, you are.
The laughter of your flowers
bursting from my eyes.

~

The sighs of our story
are left scattered
amid the autumn leaves,
forever blown by the wind
on hidden paths
where no foot ever treads.

~

On fire ~ possessed by the daemon of your love.

~

Perhaps all the poems we write are but a single poem, covering the night sky like a blanket of stars.

~

Poetry—compressing the sheer intensity of emotions into the least amount of words and letting them explode, like stars, in the reader’s body.

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