Free Verse # 325 (her voice fills me like a long lost home)

At the touch of her breath
all reasoning ceases
and even philosophy dances
as madness becomes
the soul of poetry

~

All the languages and poems
are the syllables of her name;
and her name is all I know,
the blood in my veins,
the fire in my heart.

~

Later on he remembered
how the moonlight
in her eyes reflected
as her lips curved
in a soft smile
bespeaking the poem
unspoken in his heart

~

He held his heart like a torchlight
to guide her through the night,
lead her through the stars
to the abode of infinite light.

~

He kissed her like a sailor
long lost at sea,
who all the while dreamt
of her touch warming
his heart with gentle heat,
his home, his sea.

~

My every word
smeared into her lips;
when she exhales
the wind becomes fire
as like a dragon she laughs
incinerating the earth
with her sensuality

~

In the heart of the night
I’ll plant my longing,
may it blossom in her womb

~

She wore moonlight for a dress
and slid into my dreams

~

Soak up my darkness
bare me to the bones

~

She thought
of how his hands
moved through her body,
mist through the vale,
light through the sky,
rivers gathering
deep inside.

~

In a bowl
I harness the stars
then grind them
into a fine liquid light.
Fingers dipped
I smear her lips
then kiss her,
breathless poetry…

~

He glimpsed into her
the way a sailor traces
the nightsky,
the freckles in her skin his stars,
his guide on his eternal journey…
home

~

Night descends…
in the flesh of poetry
their blood becomes one

~

All the past and its loss,
even the unborn future
returns when we touch,
uniting our existence
into a perfect circle,
a sacred autumn moon.

~

Nothing is lost…
kissing her neck
I found clustered
all my sighs and heartbeats,
every wound and laugh
burning like a stars.

~

Dawn…
her voice fills me
like a long lost home

~

She balmed her skin
with the fragrance
of a solitary heart
and went out
to meet the world
with oceanic eyes

~

Photographer unknown
Photographer unknown

Light along her skin
erotica in sultry curves
exuding clouds of incense,
a softness that melts
the heart to poetry.

~

A dark wind
combing the trees…
my hands in her hair

~

The brighter the moon
the more feverish my wounds,
their crimson ache spinning
deeper than the stars.

~

Midnight,
the hour of truth tolls
and my heart is in your palms

~

He was a poet
and she ached
to be transformed,
submerged in poetry’s fire
and reborn as poetry.

~

Effulgence dawn learns from studying her face.

4 thoughts on “Free Verse # 325 (her voice fills me like a long lost home)

    1. This was surprising for me to read again after all this time. Thank you for that.
      I remember how once, in my most loneliest solitude, I imagined that only through the poem and the written word I could touch her, be with her. This was a transformative moment as you can imagine. She is not here. She will never be. Yet her presence inundates the earth and sky, spells the very immanence of being. She is the light, shining from deep inside. Poetry was the medium and the doorway.

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s