"underlaying" poems
Sleep, sleep, dream about his mother,
how surprised you have been when she proposed,
that we should visit
and give it a try
in fresh air, at semi-high mountains,
we can wash there the old soft blanket.
You're holding her in your arms
and swing your memories.
The translucent sea
water is curling waves kissing
one tiny piece of our great mother's web.
Earth has sandy plains
We are shores of time awaiting
magnificent wave of fortunate
Fate.
White coral necklace on the bronze, beautiful shaded
delicate skin; breathing mild Mediterranean.
Scents.
Fishermen have captured seabasses, seabrims
gasping for air on the wooden deck of Aurora.
Two kids are crashing the sea urchin's armor
with a stone.
Shield.
This contrast transfixed his attention even more
on the contour of her graceful figure
and ripe ***** waiting under her summer dress to ..
He could not withdraw his gaze.
At that moment.
The urge of yearning attacked his intricate muscles
belly was on fire and he knew at that precise moment
his lips were destined to kiss this charming cusp, this
ineffably bronze spot between her neck and a slick collarbone.
Someone is already stroking on strings
The chords of cello have blended everything.
Even the
Bundle of hot dust.
Around.
You may view seagulls. Flutter.
Their gaze, and the sun particles may have caressed you.
All in the highest promised secrecy of silent
Transformation. From silence to melody.
From forms to underlaying space.
Time.
Guards and fights are between me and you. From teen. Age.
Albeit ! Albeit! Murmuring sounds have just overlaped the sensible reason. My usual rhythm pounds with frenzy
I can not ignore. Her! Her! Her!
Me!
I hide among the crickets.
Their song allures me attached to your scent.
Woman. Lemon trees flower.
Mandarins. Laurel. Olives.
I look up at the whitest cloud and in it's form
There's the image of us..
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 2:29 PM UTC
The underlaying metaphor.
Tapped out notes into the night.
Then I was, but now just do not feel right.
But then, we was.
Now not right.
Now I am.
Now that it just not right.
That girl so warm so bright.
I know that in the morning.
I will Wonder.
What I metaphor!
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 4:08 PM UTC