My darkness wanders,
your flickered dance,
magic scrim, across my walls
of sensual solitude.
In feathered dust, tracing stare,
river's air is common ground,
echoes weave in silent strands
as love,
emancipating shadow,
melting drips of molten memory.
I remember seasoned glow,
to gleam in golden skin,
your glance of space,
rising stem of slip through slide
to swill in smile, and grooves of grace,
finding face in shimmered disbelief.
But night is longer exasperation,
when faith is shaken inside flame,
her slivered aperture
of sorrowful eye,
condensing sky flying room,
as subtle stoke,
in fated blush,
hoping thought might shape a foolish rush
for fever's dream in passion's thrust,
embracing fire
to billow higher vision,
clinging to my muted miracle
in tethered lips of ancient wax,
dripping on my desk in puddles,
saturating scent, flowing ambrosia,
paralyzing touch
to know nostalgia,
as midnight dream,
when kiss was heaven.
A contest entry
- FREE VERSE, OTHER OPTIONS. by AngelicMistress.
1000 points, ended August 27, 2007, 18 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
-
Congratulations Rich for trophy, it was a tough to run the same contest with you.
~Sonja~
-
What?!! I cannot breathe... Amazing alliteration. Just simply mindblowing, breathtaking. I really did miss your poetry for the past few days... ~~Candy
-
YOU HAVE DONE A GREAT JOB WITH THIS PIECE, POET
GOOD LUCK IN THE CONTEST, AND THANK YOU FOR ENTERING IN SAME.
TANYA
-
This seemed to be a reminiscence, echoed in the presence of a candle and its flame, of past hopes of happiness. Sadness contrasts with bright light, and
in time subsides as inevitably, into memory.
Inevitably even good things end.
It left me thougtful.
Terry
-
"My darkness wanders,
your flickered dance,
magic scrim, across my walls
of sensual solitude."
I love all the lines within this poem, especially these,
beautiful poetry...
-
"But night is longer exasperation,
when faith is shaken inside flame"
I see that Carol and I chose the same line from your poem... perhaps because nights are made for dreams...even those dreams and "flames" we remember with a touch of nostalgia. A lovely weave of nostalgia and the rememberance of touch here. Such is life, my friend.
~ Nicolette
-
totally awesome... "But night is longer exasperation,
when faith is shaken ..." Why is it that night leaves us so?
Adding your comment:
1 - 7 of 7
