"symphonics" poems
Aesthetics shuns at its pedigree of Adonis fine
Athena sleeps in imitated leopard skin
Bark colored sheets, maroon subtle and deep, performs symphonics for the eyes
Aesthetics shuns at its pedigree of Adonis fine
Mediated time arises, not an evident second passes by
Aesthetics shuns at its pedigree of Adonis fine
Idols of the twilight prevents all which is dim
And Athena, she sleeps in imitated leopard skin
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 7:20 PM UTC
* Waiting: Her spread legs rest upon layered lacquer::: the tides of her hips arch high, press and point needle North, in a nascent newborn lust
she is infectious in her descent... she draws down, slowly South... unaware I see her there... I am frozen, wanting only to crawl toward the taste
the hammer of my heartbeat plays silent symphonics, she holds herself, moaning, to the sounds of a harbor rhythm:::
i make my way toward her
this man's approach is unique.
Calculating the quiver of anticipation::: **the man is instinct, the man
grows hypnotized**.
The pendulum::: the zig zag::: our protagonist reads her inner thighs.
The vine of his attraction now extends to where those thighs meet.
She is ready.
Jan 17, 2019
Jan 17, 2019 at 11:17 PM UTC
Our love was a harpsichord;
sweetest songs upon
sinful symphonics,
danced upon by skilled hands
and hungry hearts.
Our love was a harpsichord,
bringing contentment and
melting bitter doubt,
the coldest goodbyes,
until the final hit.
Our love was a harpsichord.
No matter how I may try,
the keys turn to stone
and the notes bitter.
Extinct, it had become.
Our love was a harpsichord,
sorrowful beauty until
one conductor, giving up,
submerged our songs
into a sea of loneliness.
Our love was a harpsichord.
Now it is but ruins.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC