On the Altar of Desire

This overflow of desire
held her in place
on his burning altar
where the fires of his poetry
in aching waves
licked at her skin,
melting her, moulding her,
consuming her to ash
and from his flesh reviving her,
eternally reshaping her,
in the intimacy
of his endless embrace
a poem exhaling the depth
of darkness and light,
each quiver on her lips
a moaning flower,
a soft, glowing star
in the gushing river of the night.

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Woman From The Sea

With disbelief
I look at you,
that, at long last,
love has come to me
in the swaying body
of a woman from the sea,
and my poem
over your endless waves
tenderly weeps,
tears that were forgotten
in the hallways of a heart
that too long lurked in darkness,
lurked without hope,
against hope hoping
that one day love and light
would come into my world swaying
like a limitless sea,
the infinity of a womb
at long last binding
all my rivers and streams
to flow into eternity.

Free Verse # 340 (on her lips the full moon)

She held his poem
against her belly,
pressed into her naval
like a fiery seed being sown
in the womb of the earth.

~

On her lips
the full moon
a wild flower

~

Two in appearance; in reality one light, one body, one soul.

~

Wrapped in the silk
of a thousand dawns
she comes to me
and I unwrap her
one dawn at a time,
unfolding
her ineffable essence,
poetry…

~

I’m not a poet
I am a perfume maker,
in the oil of her skin
I dip my brush
then paint her,
a burning fragrance,
poetry.

~

On the nourishment
of your skin I subsist
the way a butterfly
dips and dips
into the heart of the flower,
her tremulous sea of poetry.

~

Of all my yearnings
only one remains…
red flower on her lips

~

In the quiet of my heart
your flower grows…
moon in the night