Wandering Thought # 92

Poets love intensely because they invent their love long before they live it. Their lover is an active fire that brews in the marrow of their soul. Their carnality is an animal ferocity softened, spiritualized and intensified by their imagination and longing. Poets are the animals of the soul.

His Ink; Her Juice; Their Poetry

She laid there
surrounded by candles,
the inked verses
of past night’s lovemaking
sprawling like vines
all across her naked skin,
the bowl of grapes
placed on her belly
trembling each time
his pen pushed
into her, into the pink flower
between her thighs,
wanting her essence, he said,
her juices mixed
with each word he wrote
in his private journal,
and as the writing
became feverish
her mouth caught fire
and flared with moans
brighter than all
the surrounding candles,
brighter than the moon
peeking jealous
through curtains.
At the pen’s last stroke
the grapes
pressed between their bodies
burst like moans…

Free Verse # 378 (wolf, poet, man)

Your breath at dawn hovers
and in the dewing light
I stroke your face
with the brush of poetry

~

Anima,
womb of ardent water,
here, before your altar,
see into me,
wolf, poet, man,
with your boundless desire
open me wider
to the fullness of your moon.

~

Your breath
a wandering wind
pressing me on and on,
to what port?
to what poem?
No, not to a place
does it call me
but to a new way being.

~

Son sein
dans sa bouche,
fleur d’amande,
fleur de cerisier,
lune qui tremble
toute nue dans le ciel.

~

Her breast
in his mouth,
almond flower,
cherry flower,
a moon shivering
all naked in the sky.

~

In autumn
brown leaves
in her hair,
and her breath
the smoke
of burning grass
drifting over the fields.

~

November’s chill,
the fragrant flower
more fragrant still
as if, knowing it will die,
it sets her heart free
in the cold sky.

~

cxmy14mxaaetrvs-jpg-large
Photographer unknown

Breath of dawn,
breath of love infinite,
sun of my heart,
into your neck
my curled poem melts,
into the sea dreaming
behind your sleeping eyes.

~

Time was a vase of broken memories.

~

She is dreaming again,
my poem is stirring
with a longing
older than the stars.

~

In this life
where we live once
my ache is to touch you,
make you whole.

~

Sleepless nights are for you, for our poetry.

~

She hated the camera
yet when I photographed her
with the lense of poetry
she looked into my eyes
asking me to bare her
a little, a lot more.

~

My lust
your lust
honeydew
in our lungs burning,
from the censer
of our merged mouths
an incense thick rising
and filling the whole night.

~

Waking
for a moment
during the thick night,
the thought of you
a candle burning,
its shadows playing
on the walls of my room,
painting images
of life death,
painting the hidden stories
of my life.

~

They tell me of the moon, I look at you and smile.

Free Verse # 366 (before you I am an unfree man)

Dawn…
the fragrant skin
of the woman I love
a thin veil covering
the garden of the world

~

Poetry is my form of worship,
with it, through it
I consummate my being
and lay it open
at the doorway of your sky,
a yearning flame quivering
in the heart of your sea.

~

I wanted to touch you, so I wrote you poetry.

~

The living in me had resigned
to be the flame of a candle
shivering and lost
in the contemplation of her eyes,
and what burning tears I wept
I scribed – holy poetry.

~

With death
I inherit the rain,
the kiss of lovers,
the breath of the sea,
flowers sigh at dawn
and I am in their yearning,
a thread in their lust.

~

At dawn
he trembled inside of her
as his eyes lay
fixed into hers,
his hips
the slow motion of waves
pushing,
her body
his harbor,
his eternal shore.

~

Before you
I am an unfree man,
a lightning born
of a boundless womb
and wanting, for your sake,
to incinerate the earth,
merge it with your sky.

~

Enmeshed
our bodies burned
in lustful fires,
melted
to a foaming point
then emerged,
a full moon parting
rough waters,
seeding the belly
of the dark sea.

~

Night descends
and I swell into her,
the shiver of my flame
cradled against her spine,
a full moon from her navel
whispering pure white.

~

Against my neck
in the quiver of her lips
the wet voice of dawn

~

At dawn
through the window
her scent wafting in,
the woman I love,
the woman I always wanted
to touch with my heart.

~

A dark moon glowing
her skin where he confides
the secrets of his heart

Free Verse # 320 (kindling a silent language our hearts alone know)

Home…
the shape of her arms
embracing the wind,
in desolate earth the harbor
calling my ships,
the quiver of my longings.

~

All the shades of the night in her fragrance burned.

~

One by one
the stars faded
yet our eyes
in each other
remained harbored
kindling a silent language
our hearts alone know

~

One kiss at a time
disrobing her
of all hurt and pain,
thawing the ice
in the sinews of her veins,
thrusting her in the river
roaring wild with grace.

~

The key to her being
he fashioned
from a poem burned
in the sanctity of his veins

~

Night crushed
between our bodies,
the burn of its stars
seeping through our veins,
skin wet with dewdrops
of a pure sobbing lust.

~

Her warm want
pressed against his lips…
fullness of her breasts

~

Photographer unknown
Photographer unknown

Sobbing with desire
light in tender waves
relishing her skin,
Eros vanquishing
the absurdity of night.

~

Photographer unkown
Photographer unkown

Dawn,
the sprawl
of their bodies
in the languid light,
the effervescence
of a poem
that burned
through the night.

~

Shipwrecked poem
amid her thighs bleeding
the last tremors of desire…
its debris rebirthed
in her womb

~

Fire to the moth,
nectar to the bee,
her scent in me imbued
as sap in the tree,
the fire in my blood,
the salt in my sea.

~

Her naked body
the temple of my longings,
each a grain of incense
in the censor of her skin
sown,
there to burn,
there to sprawl,
poetry…

~

Touching her womb
her face moonflows…
river of white lust

~

Photographer unknown
Photographer unknown

Searing her skin
his night of poetry

On Gardening

Like water
through the soil
his hands into her
flowed
soaking her
to the bones,
uprooting
reviving
nurturing
seeding
pruning
grafting,
growing her
into a garden
burning with wild flowers,
an orchard heavy
with fruits of lust and joy,
birds of fire
circling her skin,
in her womb converging
to consume her whole.

To L

Free Verse # 240 (sifting her to the core)

His poem, a fragrant wisp curled around her neck.

~

Your lips are made for smiling
And I swear, I swear,
Your tears I’ll kiss and kiss
Until each, along their supple curves,
Blossoms into a full moon,
Wetting them deep
With the white of ecstasy.

~

One sensual stream
Hewn into two bodies
You and I,
Swirling serpentine
And frothing,
Droplets of pure lust,
A furnace of desire.

~

From her dimples down low
To the nape of her neck
His poem
A welter of wild waves
Surging naked, feral,
Sifting her to the core,
From her womb shaking
Star and moan
And with burning fervour hurling them
Into the abyss of his soul,
Each to ripple a thousandfold
The desire which as one
Made them unfold.

~

Damp upon my skin
The breath seeping from her lips,
A gray cloud, weeping.

Ecstatic Unity

It rolls and falls off my lips,
my being’s essence condensed
in a honeyed drop of poetry,
and your tongue, extended,
receives it eagerly,
as then from behind
the crystal surface of your eyes
a thousand flame-tongues
flick and turn
eyeing me fervently,
your body
a fiery-serpent’s swaying motion
maddened as it hisses and moves
over me, held and guided into me,
bared fangs churning
with poetry’s honeyed venom
ardent for the bite, spill, and suckle
of blood and milk and honey and wine
spinning us in a divine dance
of fainted bodies soldered in ecstatic unity.

Free Verse # 111 (gazing in your halcyon eyes)

Hecatomb of lust,
night’s stars on our wild altar
doused in burning blood.

~

My hands over our face,
a tidal flow of stars.

My heart, a sun upon my lips,
kissed between your eyes.

~

The heart that knows the splendour of dawn
is blessed with a light no darkness can soil.

~

To consume and be consumed,
a desire so ravenous and pure
it delivers our trembling bodies
unto the burning altar of love.

~

As our lips merge our heart,
rooted in the garden of forever,
blooms into the sun.

~

Each poem,
a flick of tongue along your endless curves
smearing wine and honey and reaping — ecstasy.

~

Gazing in your halcyon eyes
a dawn so clear enters my soul
that I break into song.

Free Verse # 92

I am dust scattered at the feet of my Beloved.

~

Where your naked feet touch the earth, flowers bloom.
Stars race to gather in your hair,
in your eyes, the sun and moon.

~

Come into me.
I am a turbulent sea which
salty waves shall rub you
whole and white,
salt-kissed, naked, and open
on my shore.

~

Spreading from your dark eyes,
night, on angel wings flutters in my heart,
wetting my hair and face
with the tender rush of dreams,
sinking in my eyes the warm stars of sleep.

~

Night of chaos and beautiful dreams,
birthing stars from wombs unseen,
come into my heart.

~

All the tears you weep in your sleep
at dawn I find them,
upon my eyelashes,
between my eyelids,
crystallized into stars.

~

You weep, and tears fall from my eyes;
your heart sings, and my lips are a stream of smiles.

~

Your lust,
a river of moans fluxing through my body,
arching my back and shattering me,
at the moment of ecstasy,
into endless streams of stars
coursing through your body,
under your skin.

~

With your fiery hands
grab hold of my body
as it melts into thirsty water,
splash me over your curves,
soak me into your skin
and let my ardent lips
find your womb and heart,
the inside of your breasts.

~

Even your shadow sears my soul with a desire to burn into you.

~

Between your hills I build my temple,
there worship and pray, fast and feast,
flow my laughter and tears to the end of my days.

To worship you for a lifetime, and more…

I Mold You, I Bake You

I squeeze the moon over your body,
scattering its white musk
over the sanctity of your hills,
then slowly yet firmly knead the wetness,
sinking it to your womb’s waters,
making your heart and breath
come to a standstill.

~

Your flesh,
dough under my fingers,
in the heat of my passion
baking into a bread-loaf that I raise,
wine-dipped,
to melt in my mouth.

Of Feasts

Let me knead your belly
slowly raising the moon
to birth it full from upon your lips,
crowning a heaven shivering
with the surge of your watery moans.

~

You gaze into my eyes,
the hidden pool of my soul
and sweet words come
dripping off your mouth,
rolling full and lush from your lips,
poetry littering your breasts and belly
like ripe figs and crimson grapes
aching to be crushed
between our merging bodies,
to be a feast for the fiery hunger
raging inside my chest.

A Burning Flower

I plant you in my inmost garden
where each poem is a flower
sighing powdered lust,
fine grains burning slowly
craving to sink in the flesh of desire.

The water in your womb flows,
your pores, like crimson, swollen lips
exude erotic musk,
a wetness calling all the heat
to invade the depth of your rosy flesh,
and you inhale, hard and deep,
an air so dense it burns
in your throat and lungs,
seeping like liquid fire in your veins,
becoming yourself a burning flower
swaying to the music of my flute,
shivering with ecstasy at my tender touch.

Exhale now, my love…

Free Verse # 83

Under the rain of my kisses
your frown unfolds
into a field of flowers,
your vinegar becomes honey,
your water, wine.

~

In times of peace,
in times of war,
our bed is a home
where love unfolds.

~

I be your bed,
cradling your soul and body
as they slip between the stars.

~

You walk into me and I walk
into the heart of spring.

~

Thirst brings me closer to your watery lips;
hunger, to the banquet of your breasts;
the cold, to the warmth of your breath;
and the pain, to your fingers’ healing touch.