em>To this acquaintance,
A rendezvous with midnight.
A gentle Déjà vu and in some sense
I wonder if an unspoken invite
Has played a part or two.
Does the past ever ensue?

Words do become an addiction.
Layer upon layer of repeated satisfaction
Interjected, felt and spewed.
Silken sheet’s confessions are
Best made in the nude.
These words, why are they so bizarre?

Oh let me write it right
Let me dream tonight
Upon this unarmored stage.
Let me free the fight
All through the night
Releasing it from its cage.

With a candlelit smile upon a face
The sheets do gently part.
What fills my heart
Is the gentle art
Of a finger painting slowly traced.
It has not been done by the ones
Lessening love absent of these notions.

What lies beneath must lie beside
As the past becomes renewed.
A gentle kiss a midst a torrents tide
The naked beach subdued.
Wet sand shaping dry demands

Déjà vu be wooed.
Have you ever had that feeling that you had been somewhere before but you knew you hadn’t? Or met someone that you somehow knew yet had never met? Well this piece tries to deal with just such a feeling.
  13h patty m
Lora Lee
If I could
pinpoint the
exact moment
your breath
touched mine
washed me over
in ocean waves
sea creatures glowing
in delightful recognition
as the seedlings
of connection
shimmied into our being
and, dancing within me
in its own lifeforce
your mind a living,
breathing animal
your heart, purring
and whirring its sacred forces
into my molecular structures
your soul throbbing
in mitochondric pulsing
(oh what
a delicious vibration
of ribosomes
Between us, we hold
the true treasures
close, in frothy
a purity of the expanse
of our universe,
swathed in prismatic color
colors that shift,
these fresh hues
for which there are no name
they are lucid and fine-woven
as silk histories
yet deep as earthcore
your eyes, voice
are forever burned
into my own
every day scriptures
that rock my shattered parts
into wholeness
like ancient magic,
I conjure forth
the holy gospel
rising from our bones
every second of
every minute
as our deepest fires
our most secret filth
our murky corners
our darkest hours
we weave into light
brilliant and lustrous
multi-layered in the richest
folds of the earth
and as you place me
upon the shores
of your garland-graced
Now I'm alive in a new
kind of light
all I can do
is love
        and love
and love
Born  a child
of the wind
I've heard the ocean
in a conch shell
Just like a man
I've seen an ocean
run away

A  vanguard
wintertide Daffodil
reaches up
towards sunlight,
awakening aneath
sparkling powdered
snow white
on bended knees
and frozen teardrops,
cold yellow petals
pressed longingly
to frosty red ear

the sublime
essence of velvet
and like the ocean
in a seashell,
I hear the moment
of springtime
come by here

harlon rivers ... late-winter ... 2018
Post Script ―

If by chance you've read: "Snowflakes on a Lone Daffodil"
"The Moment  of Springtime" is the companion piece.

Even though the snow got much deeper these past days,
the sunshine has visited a time or two and the forces of nature
bestow a powerful synergy... pulling nascence from winter darkness
into the light

Thanks for reading
  19h patty m
Lora Lee
"It is a deepening,"
                         she said
and took his hand
to her watery bed,
beaming her light
upon those almost
invisible threads
in particles subtly
in sparkling aquatic tongues
like colored crystals,
felt in shards of icy wine
shells sifted
in far-flung
            seas of time
Shining down as
we dive to the depths
we lead each other on
We are the  
           explorers of the dark
We have
powerful equipment
to attempt to clarify
radiate it all up
              and if it fails,
the light from
our eyes and hands
is enough to illuminate
the murky
        waters below
our salvation,
deep-sea secrets
churning in undertow
         In fact, if you dare
to penetrate the dark
and cast aside
fear of predators
               you will see-
the ruins of
an ancient temple
just waiting
for you
       for me
to dance amongst
the algae-coated
alabaster, green
wisps moving
in hypnotic motion
to weave in-between
the fish and corals,
a magic breathing in
of ocean
in sync with our own
This expanse of endlessness
        …..so many layers to discover
to sway and trip the light
in quiet,
            breathless joy
The feel of electric
flow around our feet.
            turning sweet.
It is time
for the next stage
                     to begin
So tip your
head back,
my love---
       drink it
"Take me one more time
Take me one more wave
Take me for one last ride
I'm out of my head...
The sound of the waves collide.....
  19h patty m

You cradle me between legs gently

on milky skin a contrast shade

of passion penned in winter schemes,

your pelvic heat radiating wants

with urges flowing in a cascade

of loose desires-

I give you words,

you give me dreams-

I give you love,

you give me words,

but words like chants

bewitch my dreams,

if with a spell I could persuade

under my wings

for you to stay…

Would you let go and just be mine

and not confine

yourself to dreams?

“She was fascinated with words. To her, words were things of beauty, each like a magical powder or potion that could be combined with other words to create powerful spells”
- Dean Koontz -
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