Amid Her Waves

Unknown photographer
Unknown photographer

The length of her back
a wild symphony of waves
into one another clashing,
frothing white and lashing
salt in endless sprays,
weaving the air into poems fraught
with soft melting hymns,
each in midair curving
into a soft burning flame
then weeping, in my palms,
on my aching fingertips
the unbearable desire
to course through her waves,
become the sailor whose ship
plunges ever deeper into her mist,
become the red sun whose lips
shiver with a boundless thirst
to imbibe her frothing wine
and be drunk, drunk, drunk
on this softest of all cruelties.

Free Verse # 266 (their fingers touched)

With his lips and fingers
he traced her freckles,
counting, memorizing, alighting,
the way a poem-flame grazes
a sky made of stars.

~

She stood before the mirror
and kept whispering his name,
by and by her lips flowered
and the bees and butterflies
came in to feast and sip.

~

Their fingertips touched
and the silence filled with the wonder
of a thousand budding stars

~

With a gaze forged
by the fire of longing
she looked at him,
her heart a red rose budding,
silence gathering them
like clouds in the sky.

~

Like water through the vale,
like waves lapping the shore
his hands caressed her
until her skin became
a burning sea of light.

~

Her skin
the texture of a poem
weeping tender light

~

I long for a poem
I cannot name,
the shape of her lips
uttering my silence.

~

Before him she laid,
a white poem,
an abyss of light
calling him to exist
in the act of spilling
his fervent ink
into her endless landscape,
writing her into
the expanse of his silence,
folding her and becoming
an ocean in her love.

~

He writes
and on the blank page
sees her unfolding,
hills, valleys, mountains,
a primal earth birthing him,
setting him free.

Free Verse # 261 (in the warm tea your lips and mine)

Along her skin
his kisses,
a trail of jasmines
flooding into ecstasy,
a sea of silence
reflecting the moon.

~

His poem
upon her lips bled
into a faint whisper,
a flame writhing
with dawn’s soft passion,
into her being sighing
a silent prayer,
an incense burning
with the longing for eternity.

~

Before her eyes
I stopped to wonder
and before I knew it
the moment lapsed
into the sea of eternity

~

Mer ultime,
dans l’arôme de ses lèvres
un jardin à fleurs rouge.

~

In the warm tea
I feel your lips and mine
tangled in a melting dance,
honey and ginger
burning in our throats
the sweet cadence of ecstasy.

Free Verse # 247 (hecatomb of desire)

Reaping my sighs
on the altar on her absence,
sharp the moon’s sickle
in the sea of dawn.

~

Hecatomb of desire,
caught in her scent
a thousand flowers
melting to the floor.

~

The sea at dawn,
a peaceful child
lulled on the bosom
of his tender mother.

~

In the garden
where silence
is flower and fruit
for her I wait,
my heart against her lips
weeping to be the dawning sun,
the cup of sacred wine.

~

Dawn’s breathless shiver,
upon my cheeks
the dew of silence.

~

Wielding your breath
as though it were a flame
you burned all my poems
then into the ash wept
a sacred tear and lo!
my heart in dawn’s sky
a secret garden.

~

Under his fingers
her skin quivered
as the surface of the sea,
leaving him drenched
in salt and foam
and a yearning to sail
for eternity.

~

Drenched in his breath
the layers of her heart
he slowly peeled,
revealing the silence
vibrant at the core
of fluxing life.

~

The gray of dawn was an ashen cloak beneath which she hid a thousand burning suns.

~

Thirsting for your sea ~ my dewdrop heart.

In Her Hidden Sky

In her most solitary hour,
In the night’s darkness
When her soul opens up
Like a fathomless abyss
I want to be the northern star
Shining upon her hidden sky,
A secret thought
With infinite warmth
Inside of her welling
To rise up from upon her lips
Warmer than the sun,
Through the flush of her skin
A breath more intimate
Than the wine and its own redness,
Than the sea and the cadence
Of its endless waves.

Free Verse # 221 (writing you; writing me — the ineffable source)

Writing
I feel your hand in mine,
Then the poem completes itself
As in me you become
The ineffable silence,
The very breath of life.

~

In this love for you
What of me remained?
Nothing but a poem
Unfolding in your palms,
Words weaved with light.

~

Wrought by starlight
your poem fell
like a pair of eyelids
over my aching eyes,
blinding me to all
save for your light.

~

I could forget your face if I entrust it to a poem; so I rather forget the poem, leave it unwritten, and within me keep your face, forevermore, unto my last breath, alive and growing, shining like a fountain of endless grace.

~

The eyes have a language words cannot touch.

~

Clouds ~ these eternal wanderers roaming through the desert sky.

~

Strewn amid my poems
rosemary and basil leaves
grown in the garden of her hair

~

Lavender seeds and jasmine flowers,
basil leaves and rosemary needles,
stars and dewdrops,
wine and candle-flames –
all amid the folds of her dark hair.

Free Verse # 219 (wine of wines)

My poems
like nocturnal kisses
overshadow your body,
fiery wings fluttering,
circling you tightly
and moving closer
in an eagerness
to be doused in your bare skin,
in you to become coals
burning bright as stars
and filling you with the heat and light
of the love I hold for you
in the mystic deeps of my heart.

~

Sauntering
In her short skirt,
The sun, along its edge,
Burning.

~

Drawing near
She placed her mouth
Against his ear
And a fountain
Of incredible warmth
Within her bubbled,
Surging unstoppable
Words like hot wine
Rolled from her lips,
Flowed serpentine
Like a dancing poem
And, entering his blood,
Sighed into him
Her deepest dreams,
The visions entwined
With her very life.

Free Verse # 217 (In my veins I feel you)

In my veins I feel you
As the parched earth
Feels the first autumn rain
Breathing through the air
Before it falls,
As the garden
Under heavy snow
Feels the thawing wind.

~

With poetry’s passion for thread
I weave the stars into a comb
And pass it through your hair,
Time and again, softly, tirelessly,
As waves lap the eternal shore.

~

The shards of her silence
Fell upon his lips
Like morning dew

~

As though they were
Two rays of a summer sun
They now merged,
Their bodies
In the heart of autumn
Folding and unfolding
Into a flower burning red.

Senryu # 48

The clouds at twilight –
A red shore beneath a moon
Brimming with desire.

~

Each poem a star
By the curve of his tongue etched
Deep into her skin

~

Two crescent moons, twined,
Swirling into a full bloom,
A poem of light.

~

Pressed into his kiss –
Her lips, a bud unfurling
Gently in the sun.

~

Inscribed into me
As stars along the nightsky,
My deepest dreams – you.

~

From the eaves of dusk
The dewdrops to my heart fall,
Scented sighs of her.

A dream; A memory

attachment

She sat waiting for him –
time a comb running through her hair,
darkness a blanket kissing stars into her skin.

She sat waiting for him –
weaving silent threads into vessels of dreams,
tracing his face across the endless sea.

She sat waiting for him –
his kiss burning deeper into her heart,
this nameless love, in her womb, surging like a tide.

Free Verse # 210 (the heart of a flower)

She offered him the ocean
in the chalice of her palms;
the night and its stars
in her obsidian eyes.

~

Love enters us like the storm
Troubles the waters of the sea,
Making its waves gush out unto the shore
Its heart’s hidden gems, its mysteries.

~

Waking
I felt you on my lips,
A tremor of infinite softness breaking
As the dawn in the sky.

~

Love whispers, but for you to hear you must have the heart of a flower, the ears of a butterfly.

~

Gazing into the ocean
Slowly, with the cadence of the waves,
Their gazes melted into one
As their fingers clutched deeper
Like the roots of an old tree.

~

She wore the sun
for a flower in her dark hair,
and lo!
the sun could not be more happy!

~

The poet must, above all else, be pure of heart.

~

The silent enigma –
Like a white flower
She weaves herself
In the very heart of dawn,
Soaked in the red tide
Of its infinite softness.

~

We touched
And something rose into me
As from within
I started to fill with water;
The outflow of this surge –
Light and poetry.

~

She wore the night for wings
and whenever she fluttered
the earth filled with stars

Free Verse # 207 (drunk on love’s potion)

In the auburn glow
Of her blood stained kiss
All his poems melted
Into vaporous rivers
And coursed, sighing,
To her infinite womb.

~

Sweetest lethargy!
Drunk on love’s potion, they sank,
Blissful, ecstatic,
Aware of nothing except
How their bodies merged and wept.

~

He laid anchor in her heart
Thinking it was an eternal port,
But lo! it was an ocean
Wider than the sky.

~

Etched with his tongue
His words were sown in her like seeds.
After the long winter,
In the arms of spring,
The seeds awakened
And she became his song.

~

From her wild breasts
He drew sustenance,
Sun, air, water, earth,
As over her he grew like a tree
That now reached for eternal skies.

~

The world a ripe star
crushed between their bodies,
its white, burning wine
covering the great sky.

~

I am made of longing, and every whisper my soul heaves cuts a little deeper into the fire that I am.

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.

The Song of the Flower

Slides over you,
the waves of his love
cradling you like an infinite ocean,
washing over your whole body,
kissing it, brushing it, rubbing it white,
etching into your skin
the salt of his essence,
the breath of his heart,
allowing you to bloom
like a flower in the mouth of dawn,
her perfume wafting over
the gardens of existence,
singing hymns to love.

The Fountain of Your Grace

I inhale the dawn and plant its breaths
in sweet and tender kisses wound
like jasmines round your soft thighs,
sow its stars deep in the heat of your flesh
scribing them to burning verses
etched with the tip of my tongue
as your moistness seeps from the sacred well
coating thighs, jasmines, stars, verses, and tongue,
calling my mouth to rise, spill and exhale
all the accumulated light deep inside the shivering lips,
the walls leading to your womb and heart,
calling forth your ocean of unbound joy,
a watery song washing upon my face,
the fountain of purity gifting
my open palms with your infinite grace.