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Nat Lipstadt Jun 2023
Stroking


<6:56 Am>

this petite gesture, glorious in effect,
impervious to aging, speaks volumes
of storied nuance and sun powerful to believers,
inherent messages much refined by its singularity

all that can be, will be, transporting the living,
calming effervescence by simplest of motion implanted,
its sensory powers long lingering, instantly, uncovers
the furtive child in us all, tho well we hide it

stroking my woman’s body when errant dreams,
disturb the early morning scheming, returning a placid,
to her steady breathing, exhaling the disturbing,
erasing the fearful that wanders inside our night boundaries

stroking the cheek, of my six year old granddaughter,
pulling back the hair locks that impede her vision,
the whirlwind passes, her body sedates, and her
totality merges into mine, born, borning a Godlike oneness

these fingers air the words that my chest pervade,
there is power galore in their communicative physicality,
but nothing more powerful than skin upon skin, in motion,
continuous, circular soothing the giver and the receiver equally


<7:09 AM>
Silver Beach
Friday June8
2023
onlylovepoetry May 2019
stoking and stroking

very, very often, but not every day,
she wakes me with a tonguing
on my clean shaven heart,
I ask not why, lest it break the over ten year,
she be magic spelling, a hexagonal licking put on me

after
ten  years she gets cat curiosity bitten,
   asks me if I want to know the wherefore,
      pretend not to hear, re-awarded with an elbow
        between the ribs five and six, grunting me a ‘sure’
          (that’s a surly unsurely, no - not really)

“you don’t take care anymore enough of the body I embrace,
so I am my own your health plan, licking your chest cavern,
one of a defensive medley of many medical techniques,
stroking the heartstrings vibrato, stoking the hearth fire,
purely selfish you see, all I ask is you purr as you do,
lay still, accept my pill of vitae min no-calorie surgery,
for ten more years, let your heart be stirred,
keep the bad stuff excised, and let the desire of returning fire
of your taste buds, be forever for me...”
S R Mats Apr 2015
"I am a poet"
That is what our ego tells us
What we tell others
What others desire for self
What we desire to hear
So they tell you that you are
Quid quo pro
We stroke one another
Manus manum lavat
When I die I hope "they'll" say
"A poet has left us"
But then as now
I will not know it

— The End —