"nosetip" poems
Now,
there is the contour of her upturned forehead
nosetip kissed by the moonlight
and shadows frame the shape of her eyes
soft wrinkles at their tapered corners
And my god, the color of them
I stare, squint
A misty night, but they are distinct even in the dark:
bronze beads nestled into slight furrows
gossamer, reflecting starlight.
The sweep across the peppered sky that we stand beneath
Chestnut disks floating in milky spheres
unmistakably hers
full and round, soaking in curiosity
handsome mahogany irises bound by the gold tracing their edges.
The way the light makes those disks look glassy
Semitransparent in the moon’s glow
How they shed their boundaries
shifting, swimming
layers on the eyelid horizon
They shimmer, and stir.
And now,
they rest their gaze on me.
I inhale
dare to step closer
The bustle in the back of my brain—
A hum, and the purr of pleasure at her beatitude.
Mar 7, 2023
Mar 7, 2023 at 10:16 AM UTC
brrrr...
snow-capped mountain
air so crisp
neat lines
nosetip gets sleety touch
warm inside
cosy in here
with memory-touches
of rain
so
here's a clear and crisp dispatch
abiding little dispute -
amidst the falling snow
on coldened hands
and needed fingertips
a brush of temperate smiles
all hid and bundled up
in ready bows
just for you
smile a while
you never know
when the sun may catch your dial
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 12:59 AM UTC