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K Balachandran Mar 2019
breeze in morning stroll,
signal call of the love bird;
the rendezvous fixed!
K Balachandran Dec 2018
White night, frothy light,
Moon wears a mischievous smile;
Take a deep breath, wait!
nosipho khanyile Nov 2018
if my mind could speak for herself,
she would tell you of our late night rendezvous.
❁❁❁
Sunshine Tibod Jun 2018
why won't you control what is inside?
the pleasure you cannot hide,
the memories you bribe,
the emotions that kept you alive?
Mary-Eliz Apr 2018
You have
without knowing
reached inside
and
touched my soul
awakening it
with urgent
pulsing
like an electrical
surge

I yearn to
connect
with you
completing
the circuit

My soul seeks
yours
for a rendezvous

to mingle
in an ethereal
embrace

to share
a repast
in the soft candlelight
of awareness
and
the sweet scent
of the roses
of incorporeal
passion

filling plates
with
the words
and
cadence

wine glasses
with
the music

of poetry


You speak
the language
of my soul

whose words are
garden
          flowers
                     unfolding
                               pathways

sojourn
                   reflection
                              struggles
              ­                             life

whose syntax
is poetry
and
song

You
more than most
have taught me
to heed
and
understand
the language

to recognize
the melody

and

to dance

its rhythm
This was written some years ago upon discovering a wonderful poet, one of my favorites, Stanley Kunitz, who was also an avid gardener. I think he was in his 90's at the time. I heard him reading a poem on NPR and I was "smitten".  I bought several of his books of poetry. The one I love best has a lot of pictures of him in his late years still working in his garden.  He died in 2006, just two months short of his 101st birthday.  He's a beautiful soul. You can see it in his face, in his garden and in his poetry!
fire spark of lover's sweat
hazy moan engulf the air
gripping sheets and bending pillows
moonlight streaks on wet windows
energy reaches dream state
then disappears through the keyhole
and there is nothing more than silence
before the quiet escape
and the unspoken acceptance
of this graceful mistake
oldie - revised
ilo Mar 2018
My stone like heart
Now has soft spots
Like that of molding produce
And you are relentlessly on my mind.

Yet, my heart and brain have regular rendezvous
See, my brain is insecure
And my heart: a bit unsure.
Yet, as I sit in crowded rooms
I wonder how this can be my dream
When I dream of being with you or in solitude.

The self demolitioning chaos I crave recommends you as an adventure.
But I don't know if it's okay to be so gleeful at it's sound
Though, I do so crave your presence.

And I pleasantly await
In fear to hear
The lyrics of your heart.
As they will be stained onto my heart
Like a temporary tattoo
And will be chiseled into my brain
Forever
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