To feel that skin and breathe amorously up on it
Expectant heart beats
The kiss upon neck shivers so
Gift of Thistle
My member slips into your captivity
The delighted prisoner
With caress and hand tightly held
Gift of Union
May 1, 2010
May 1, 2010 at 5:43 AM UTC
My lips part from yours,
Urgency comeuppance,
Met with swift reliance,
Ah, sweet moan.
Clothes, shredding of real sin,
Breast naked upon chest,
Lined waterfall of spine,
Trickle arched back.
But rough your advance,
Enclose all saintly spaces,
Eyes that glaze over,
Skin and love.
Apr 28, 2010
Apr 28, 2010 at 7:41 AM UTC
I jumped, that leap of faith
A sorry bargain, apologetic grin
From God
Heart skip, like stepping stones
Each a beat, shuddered soul of
Rabbit Courage
Not fluffy, nor solid
Cold wet vapor,
strings hung my
**** Naivety!
Apr 18, 2010
Apr 18, 2010 at 5:15 AM UTC
There is nothing fair about the pale light of New Spring
Air that is full of promise,
bearing no fruit or cinnamon scent
Naive contempt that we all will bear a rich fullness
Sun wick in its watery gaze.
New Spring is the forewarning of the lengthening shadow
While the flowers bloom, gnarling hands tug at their roots
Decaying the imago, delicate foundations,
ruining their artful poise.
Urge of the nightingale wavers and a swift dirge comeuppance
Clouds break apart, denying their lofty existence,
Soil blackened by the soot of His flamed feet,
Which trespass sweetly and indulge in the
scent of burning and plague.
New Spring is the cowering of my hope
and the doubts of rightful renewal
Bread I bare is stale, water a rasping thirst
My heart unfrosted and chilled from Winters gambit
Tis a Stolen Season
Apr 18, 2010
Apr 18, 2010 at 5:14 AM UTC
And its flushes blue,
the dimple in the warming foam.
And its sighing waves,
the petting lullaby.
And its hands sapphire clear,
the pleasing touch.
And my sweet breath unescaped,
The longing lung.
Apr 18, 2010
Apr 18, 2010 at 5:11 AM UTC
I
O, how the heart sings in lithe light,
A swift sigh, soft abandonment;
The fleeting fall of thy tender feet,
Flowers manna dew.
II
I had met a man in the dale,
Bright Eyes - however downcast;
Its worthy gaze somehow saddened,
In sombre spirit.
III
Weathered hands I care to caress,
And curve his mouth in joyful poise;
Whisper kisses four to thy brow,
Thy Joy intwined mine.
IV
No birds sing in this clouded day
But I hold thy spirit cradled
*Estel I call to strengthen thee
My presence in rain.
Apr 18, 2010
Apr 18, 2010 at 4:30 AM UTC