Free Verse # 447 (What does the poet do?)

What does the poet do?—He listens to the silence.


Sealed in a kiss
this gift of longing
I received from you
is an ever aching thorn
burning in my heart


His kisses on her skin
grains of incense
left to smolder
and cover her
in a sharp fragrance
of jasmine and lust,
filling her lungs
with a slow fire
burning up to her mind,
spreading through her blood,
maddening her senses
with an ever growing yearning
to be claimed by their bond.


A lifetime is too short
for me to say what I see
when I look in her eyes


What helps you live prepares you to die.


With poetry I long
to photograph her soul


With you, my unknown women
always seated next to me,
I long for an earth-shattering connection,
deeper than the sea,
wider than the sky.


Dressed in the form
of the woman I love
God came to me,
and our union was His prayer,
and our kiss His holy wine.


Drinking her lips
I slowly take in
whatever God had meant
by blessing the wine,
by giving existence
His breath of life.

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