February: The wild, the sweet and the unpredictable

The thought of rose wine comes to me
when I touch your lips
and I fall away deep into the natural laws
of the cosmos—
the best love is the one which is unexpected,
long nights of lost sleep
and deep conversation,
I watch as expression changes from bewilderment
to delight
in the garden of your mind;
your eyes
a form of provocation which seek the stories in mine.

Have I told you just how baffling it seems?
To adore one with all their flaws
and beauty
the way you seem to accomplish with me—
I am taken by the curve of forgetting the storms
of past decades
which laugh at the approach of midnight.

If innervation is first
then let me taste fully the extent of your kiss—
causing me to make brave wishes;
I’d do anything to make your heart sing,
guide your hands
irresistibly with my voice.
You are the sky that cradles my poetic being,
my sun,
my venus and my moon; let me hold you
I am on the edge of something that goes beyond words.


Photo credits: Pinterest

Posted for Writers’ Pantry @ Poets and Storytellers United

His lips are petal, are thirst

Only time will tell,
residue of longing, luscious, on the edge of lower lip
is truth,
is fallaciousness,
chained in curiosity or is merely an illusion
your lambent green eyes
a slight intake of breath
and before I could realize, I lost track of time.
Come, strip the night of indecision,
sometimes we just let it slip away
this love of mine is as old as the hills, cutting deep
into poetry that sings,
I suppose it makes sense
I see your name and say it softly out loud;
silvered, like the moon
even the smallest traces of you make me radiate,
make me glow,
you say

I leave lipstick notes without a care in the world
only time will tell.



Photo credits: Jarek Puczel Painting, Pinterest

A potpourri of words from Skylover Wordlist:  Lambent,
illusion, chained, curiosity, strip, silver. 💝

Posted for Weekly Scribblings @ Poets and Storytellers United

What more can be said, that

Poem inspired by the title of Rumi’s poetic masterpiece, “What was told, that.”

What more can be said that raises a faint blush on,
embers of wanting
smolder marmalade-like over a pair of brown eyes,
copacetic these clouds murmur
not a thought, not a kiss, nor a glance is forgotten–
your beauty akin to a cream rosebud,
to winter sunshine illuminating the trees.

What more can be said that molds the heart
with such strangeness,
the crescent itself seethes when I utter your name
and I, seeing through pretense smile
I plead pardon for having my breath perfumed—

Darkly whispering the underworld beckons,
I gaze upon the flowers pinned between rocks
sprouting deep purple,
the violet
being one to address blood consciousness.
To repudiate living darkness that exists in one’s soul
would be ideal,
I thought to myself as I rise from dreams unreal;
I bury my face in the wild storm of your being.

There is faith in the fog, I cannot see the ground
and yet
I tread further into the abyss of the unknown,
let lips decide the distance between us
love, I have witnessed many a February cold—
weave foolishness into my heart;

it’s perfectly easy, every atom
belonging to me as good
belongs to you;
what more can be said that raises a faint blush on.



Photo credits: Pinterest

A Skylover Wordlist: Underworld, crescent, seethe, faint,
sunshine, foolish 💝

Posted on Weekly Scribblings @ Poets and Storytellers United

& Posted on Open Link Night @ dVerse Poets Pub

Storm Moon ~ Part One: Beyond the Boundaries

Brooding, the faint slender crescent
living with ache and no serious sins
perhaps a memory surfaces to a mirrored abyss
reaching but never truly grasping–
I press my finger against the subtle breath of the East,
feel its presence
the churning chaos of scars long lost and forgotten,
I say they evaporate
or how else
could I even walk on this part of the colonnade?
Nearby, flowered and craving for a moment of rest.
On quiet nights,
in the absence of dreams, I breathe your name
there are moments when vulnerability overwhelms—
it makes us believe unerring safety, a recherché calm
and everything comes gushing out;
while I, betrayed by evidence of my body’s reaction
feeling no different than the crescent,
than the wordless bewilderment of the East—
how foolish.



Photo credits:  The Pre-Raphaelites, Pinterest

A Skylover Wordlist: Colonnade, seethe, crescent, faint, east,
brooding, foolish, silver. ❤

Posted for Writers’ Pantry @ Poets and Storytellers United