Free Verse # 334 (cet infini poème)

Autumn leaves
tucked in her brown hair,
flowers strewn
amid the pages of a book,
a forest of perfume
intimately sleeping
in the worded grass.

~

In late autumn
her areolas
are two ripe figs
on my lips bursting
with the liquid heat of summer,
a crimson universe
brimming with stars.

~

On your windowsill
the raindrops gather
in puddles of pitter-patter,
birds of fiery feathers
singing into your room
the voice of my longing.

~

In the misted morning
my thoughts sway to you
like a bare branch shivering
against the gray sky

~

Those patterns coursing
the length of her lips,
little nooks and crannies
at each exhale
molding the air
into sensual poetry.

~

Son corps
une mer étoilée
et moi
un navire enivré
navigant le long
de cet infini poème

~

He placed his mouth on hers
and played her soul like a flute,
her body through its pores weeping
the fires of pure longing.

~

Her lush lips
a suave erotica
wet with red ache
to have his fullness
throbbing inside.

~

On her tongue
my fingers burn,
honed flames
aching to go inside.

~

At dawn you wake,
the imprint
of my hands and lips
all over your body,
an earth soaked
in the dew of longing.

Advertisements

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 )

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s