Free Verse # 309 (give me everything)

Wrapping her lips
around his poem,
one verse at a time…

~

She slept
as her breath
folded its wings
in the nook of his neck,
from this nest inhaling
the sustenance of life,
the water of dreams and love.

~

Washed in your silence
I have become a lotus,
each white petal
flung open in praise
of your eternal sky.

~

In the curve of her neck
my tired breath sleeps,
a bird in his nest,
a fire sobbing silently
in the deeps of the night,
sobbing into her flesh
the ache of my heart.

~

Still moment of twilight,
her voice rising in waves,
coaxing, calling, sobbing,
laying her being as a question
on the door of the sky.

~

Give me everything,
your tears,
scars,
pain,
loss,
love,
urgency,
fears,
doubts,
insecurities,
give me everything…

~

His poem
a heart-shaped flower
pooling all her smiles

~

He held her…
all the stars a puddle
in the crescent moon’s lap

~

In her
all my rivers
converged
into a sea

On Gardening

Like water
through the soil
his hands into her
flowed
soaking her
to the bones,
uprooting
reviving
nurturing
seeding
pruning
grafting,
growing her
into a garden
burning with wild flowers,
an orchard heavy
with fruits of lust and joy,
birds of fire
circling her skin,
in her womb converging
to consume her whole.

To L

Free Verse # 308 (stealing her breath)

Autumn morning…
in the distance
smoke lulled
by the cool wind,
nearby
a farmer tills the field
as birds in the tree clamor,
behind the grove
a running stream murmurs
and I feel her in the air.

~

Stargazing…
tracing the cosmos
in the deeps of her eyes

~

Stealing her breath
his mouth became
the breather
keeping her alive…
…alive yet burning,
a flaming wing etching
the breadth of his sky.

~

As the Phoenix
from our ashes we rise,
rebirthed again and again
on the altar of our love,
burning, a self-sustained fire
singing the whole sky.

~

I wait for her
like a flower awaits
her inner light to burst

~

Windless eve,
all my thoughts pooling
in puddles at her feet

~

All his passion
a grape
cradled on her tongue
then crushed,
fire surging
down her throat,
flooding her veins,
incinerating her heart.

~

One layer at a time
peeling the shadows
off her heart
while staying focused
on the light inside,
her radiance,
her dawn.

~

In waves she rushed
back and forth,
and he waited for her
receiving her
with the patience
of the wide open shore.

~

On her lips
he polished his breaths,
honed her tongue
to a lightning of stars.

Eternal Feast of Light

All my poems
pooled into her skin
filling her to saturation
then flowed,
outward,
inward,
decanting her in my heart,
there to live,
there to grow,
there to burn as my art,
there to become
my secret breath and thought,
a poem made of fire,
the ground that sustains
the cycle of life,
the sky where divine messengers
go to dwell and hold
the eternal feast of light.

Free Verse # 307 (holding her close)

Touching her
she knew
what it is to walk
through flame,
be born of fire.

~

One breath
to fill her;
one breath
to pour all my heat
into her bloodstream;
one breath
to make her womb quiver
gushing out her core
in streams.

~

He loved it
when their eyes met
and conversed,
two birds chirping
in mid sky,
from branch to branch
flying,
singing love
pure and high.

~

Photographer, Benjamin Cosson
Photographer, Benjamin Cosson

Moon through the window…
a sea of poetry
aglow in her skin

~

He stole her breath
sighing in her ear:
now your breath
lives in me,
kissing me is the way
for you to breathe.

~

Scrubbing her skin
with salt and lemon,
preparing the feast

~

Winding endless
through her curves
the fragrant trail
leading him home

~

Tracing poems…
her skin a nightsky
pouring with stars

~

Five favorite things:
the sun in her smile,
the sky in her laughter,
dawn in her eyes,
the river of her hair,
the aroma of her skin.
One more, one more,
the thunder when her breath
from her silent lips rolls.

~

This poem
a wick,
flaming
as it touches
the shiver
of her breath,
burning
as the wax
of our bodies
melts,
joined,
soldered,
a delicious
mess.

~

Listening to her
one silent breath
at a time,
sipping her words,
her presence,
her eyes,
through them plunging
into the deeps
of her ocean heart.

~

His breath
in her skin…
a garden
of wild flowers

~

Ever so full
her wax and wane
in the sea of his heart

~

Holding her close…
closer than a heartbeat
to a beating heart

~

Touching her core
a moan on her lips forms,
an erotic flower
weaved of dark wine,
hot in her need
to have him sip,
drink it whole.

~

On the shore of dawn
her whispering lips
unfold my heart

Free Verse # 306 (of annihiliation)

Her flesh
a sea of moonwater,
light flowing liquid
in supple waves;
my poem
a ship of jasmines
sailing her white curves
for all eternity.

~

Amid her ribs
my poem made nest,
at dawn and dusk
with the birdsongs it rises
brushing her wide eyes,
in halcyonic waves
flooding her chest.

~

The bird of fire
made nest
in her eyes

~

His lap
the seabed
forever welcoming
her gushing waters ~
her supple flowings
and wild temptests
held forever
in his fervent seat.

~

Wrapped around her neck
the breath he weaves
in the silence of his heart

~

He longed to kiss her
the way a fig in autumn
bursts open full of sun

~

Her skin
a field of flowers
vying for his touch,
clamoring restless,
burning fragrant lust.

~

He touched her in places she didn’t know exist.

~

He touched her,
she moaned,
and night itself was a river
gushing from her core.

~

We existed to the extent that we were annihilated in each other.

~

In his palm
she folded her dreams
yet each fold became a sky

~

Bathing her skin
night grows incandescent
as if lit from within,
itself a spring of light,
itself a fountain of grace.

~

I feel her in my bones…
autumn wind stripping
silence to its core

~

Sadness
in her eyes dwelled
like clouds
in a summer sky

~

Dancing
with the infinite shadows
cast by her hair

~

Folding her into me
as she unfolds,
each breath,
each quiver,
each heartbeat,
a poem grown wider
than the face of the sky,
a womb more fervent
than the sun of life.

~

To have the curve of my tongue
burning all the poetry
into every curve of her skin

~

I am a living well
gushing forth endlessly;
yet with her I am a sea,
a sky without end.

~

Photographer unknown
Photographer unknown

His touch
bathes her
in a sea of light

Letter, August 23, 2015

I photograph you like a painter brings a landscape to a slow fervency in his mind, like a poet slowly accumulates a poem’s water in the well of his heart. I photograph you not into a still image, but into an ever shifting sea of shadows and light, each peeled wave revealing a greater depth, and so unto eternity. I photograph you, gazing at you, undressing you, slowly drinking you like wine, but each falling veil dresses you with a thousand beating wings of light, and each inebriating layer thrusts me higher into the clarity of your eyes. I photograph you, but how can an infinite being be contained in a painting, tune, or poem? I photograph you, but you cannot be contained, and so you overflow, through me, through creation entire, even from inside the rays of light. And so your beauty frees me as it enslaves me, teaching me the meaning of surrender, the ability to receive your light, but also daring me to penetrate you deeper, and deeper, until I become a mariner on the high seas of your tides.

Free Verse # 305 (sown in his earth)

Breathless passion,
words like flames
flickering,
into the night weeping
a heart gone wild
on the altar of her skin.

~

Her skin
the shuddering sea,
and I
ever the mariner
longing for eternity.

~

He touched her
and she knew
she was a being of fire,
the linings of her skin
burning blades weaving
the ether into a vortex
of voracious sin.

~

Photographer unknown
Photographer unknown

Sown in his earth
his profusion
in her gathered
the elements of her skin,
his breath
in her igniting
a life of poetry.

Free Verse # 304 (setting her free)

One stroke
at a time
curling her limbs,
inward, outward,
burning her,
molding her,
painting her,
writing her,
at last in me
binding her,
setting her free.

~

Winding streets
to nowhere…
solitary hearts

~

Trailing his skin,
her lips in sickle moons
etching the night…

~

Photographer unknown
Photographer unknown

All these words,
passion spilled
in burning dewdrops,
soliloquys I keep weaving
in the folds of her flesh,
in the cosmos of her skin
nebulas giving birth.

~

If she be honey
it is because he gathered
all the flowers’ nectar
in the labyrinth of her heart

Free Verse # 303 (under his fingers)

Photographer unkown
Photographer unkown

Under his fingers
she quivers,
each touch
each breath
in her skin
a piano note
rippling the sky,
shivering
the world,
a sea of poetry.

~

His touch
in her skin
a burning wick
melting away
her flesh
in fervent layers,
hot wax staining
crimson canvas,
painting
a bleeding heart.

~

On caffeinated lips
her sleepless passion
swirls in wisps

~

Open up and give,
scatter your smiles
so the world may live

~

Her breath
over the lake…
mist of dawn

~

Night again
clasps her bones
and she feels them
unfurling
a flower in his palms

Tanka # 50 – to Sarah

Painting by Sarah Mhanna, early 2013
Painting by Sarah Mhanna, early 2013

Your painterly eyes…
the world a canvas
born of your sight,
a fluid river
of shadows and light.

Sarah’s last painting and the only one she dedicated to me. It was left unfinished, as all the other paintings gestating in her. Her presence transformed the world around her, transmuted it into art — this by her presence itself which was radiating, and by her fondness to transform everything around her into art and colour.

You once told me to live and be happy every day. Ah, to be Sarah-Joy, Sarah-Laughter.

Free Verse # 302 (how music is made)

As for my life
it begins and ends
on the hidden curves
of her shore

~

Poem of fire
in her flesh weaving
the sun for a nest

~

Twined at the artery
that pumps fire
into the sun
our flesh shivers
as the seams of our skin
melt and merge,
oned, a being of light
exuding poetry.

~

Smearing her lips…
the nectar of a poem
bloomed in the sun

~

Photographer unkown
Photographer unkown

How music is made…
bodies entwined
like crescent moons,
their light quivering
the soul of the night.

~

Wearing her kiss…
one crescent moon
at a time

~

By my window
the candle flickers,
its whispered breaths
birds of fire
roaming the dark night,
their flaming wings
etching in the sky
the way leading you home
to me…

~

Photographer unknown
Photographer unknown

In her navel
the dewdrops of dawn
he gathers,
a fountain
of tender moss and milk
flowing
softer than the light.