Anticipation

08 January 2016

12:56

Through this fog of longing when I see your face

Your cheeks, your lips, with fingertips I trace,

Then you smile at me with infinite, tender grace,

And touch me back at your own gentle, slow pace --

Then each bit of your skin, the soft, the smooth, the rough,

Comes alive to my touch; but it's never quite enough

to taste your sweet mouth with unbridled hunger

as passion deepens as it grows stronger.

So beautifully you push me to the edge again

And pull me back from that gorgeous flight

and I grapple with emotion just to stay sane

watch your eyes glow with wanton love light --

So time stops, stills, anticipation untames:

I drown, I burn, I go up in flames.

Cinnamon

08 January 2016

08:44

(The first two lines were written by someone to me... and I gave in to the overwhelming urge to add 12 lines to it!)

Now, I taste cinnamon, feel your skin touching mine,

Making a poem with words that strain to rhyme.

There's the distant singing of the stars calling out through space and time,

to ask the moon to dance, longing for you to be mine.

Once more a divine chorus will play,

As our lips waltz the night away.

Your scent on my skin to mingle and make the world sway,

as we make love through the night, perhaps the day

will dawn slowly to an insane sanity that calls

out to the gentle love's dew as it falls

on otherwise barren fields and walls

and defeats loneliness as it caterwauls.

Soon, my love, this fire will course through our blood,

when with love and passion each other we flood.

Eternity in an Hour

“To see a World in a Grain of Sand 

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, 

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand 

And Eternity in an hour.”

- William Blake

one script meets another on roads dreary

merge as the warp and weft in an insane bed

with some intolerant indecent fantasy 

black inveigles the eternal red

of blood that flows as miniature streams

blazing fires cloud an azure expanse

and the screams... dear god, the screams

that echo, ricochet, break immense

decibel barriers as miseries spread 

like a warm cloistered undermined rug

like the moth-ridden musty-smelling dead

that cling to the idea of humanity like a drug

in the eternity of that fanatical hour pictures emerge

of hatred, intolerance, faithlessness that surge

(November, 1984)

The Shoe

The strong stench of burnt concrete
Mingled with another and another wheeze,
An olfactory overdose stirs the nostrils
into an involuntary, embarrassed sneeze;
Three days after the burning genocide
smoke still wafts with the breeze.
Under a pile of undefinable ashes
under an ashen canvas crease

I saw it peeking out like a scared haunted animal
The only char-free object in a blackened room,
Human remains were long gone from that black hole
Eight members aged three to seventy, gone to their doom.
And there it sat, in mute testimony to inhuman savagery:
A three-year-old's shoe that lived on in the gloom.

(November, 1984)

Daydreaming

Daydreaming, huh? Join the club, as they say:

I have daydreamed many weeks away!

Daydreams are made of the gossamer stuff

Trapping in their complex threads

The warp and weft of reason, rationality, logic,

and envelop the mind in its softest folds

from which the heart won't let it escape.

For oft-times daydreams can conquer the moment…

But when imagination meets sense perception

Fantasy begets Reality.

For the way you love me

I feel like the goddess you say I am

The world's most precious creature --

Without objectification!

Then when we create miracles with our magic

breach clinical possibility in the light of our own golden moon

discover chords (perhaps) never played before

and wonder, with degrees of regret, how long it took --

and of journeys and paths travelled 

sans the other

and why indeed we wandered far

on roads we need not have taken --

But the time gone by, what of it?

It made you who you are today…

And I,

the less said about the younger versions

the better it is --

Though the saving grace lies

In simply knowing

That the rest of life will be

made of choices 
made here and now ...