Free Verse # 350 (shipwrecked amid her thighs)

At night I touch my neck,
feel the nook where your fingers
carved themselves a nest
and a poem of unbearable warmth
suddenly fills my chest,
bursts to flame like a candle
with a tender caress lighting
an immemorial past.


His words
kissing her ears,
seashells divulging
the secret of the sea.


Poète – c’est celui qui écoute le monde exister avant l’aube de bruit et voix, dans la nuit du cœur-soleil.


Sa voix s’étendait
sans limite,
un silence intime
coulant du ciel.


In the shadow
of our kiss
the bloom
of silence


Even as I die
your shining beauty
full moon in the sky


In the forest
we leave the dead
where they fall be,
and watch them in spring
become sighing flowers
and wild birds that sing.


Her body
a forest of poetry
pronounced sacred
even before divinity,
into the clear obscure
of her spaces
poets wander
and are lost
unto eternity.


The poem I left at night
shipwrecked amid her thighs
at dawn flutters anew
and flows from her eyes


Her kiss didn’t come
in a single burst,
like stars in the nightsky
it came strewn
all over my life,
over the course
of a lifetime.


His fingers
course her skin,
each trail
a furrow of wine and fire
sinking to her veins,
in the soil of her flesh
the essence of poetry.


One thought on “Free Verse # 350 (shipwrecked amid her thighs)

Leave a Reply

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

You are commenting using your 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