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The story: legend.
We are as tossed by currents
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The dawn light caught her,
half awake smile, and she
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Her kisses tangled my feelings.
I would answer them another time,
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The last butterfly, that brushed
my cheek, flew into the sun.
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Restrained from slipping
into more than what is
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I drink the silence.
The full moon wears the clouds
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I wanted to write,
fell asleep by my pad . . .
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Breeze slips from the branches
tangles my hair with playful fingers.
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Barefoot and fancy free with a touch of mud
upon the cheek, you wandered
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by tomisb
53 lines, 82 comments,
on Jan 15 9:47 PM 2008. In Adult, Erotica, Sensual, Magical, Joy, Hope, Love, Lust, Laughter
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The rime has left the salt crystalized
upon the mouth of the sea, snow burns
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Oh! little butterfly flap your wings
You are so pretty when you fly
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Cogent, concise
logic driven, precise
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long ago
in beautiful days
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Her smiles danced --
froth on a wave,
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The wisps of magic stirred
round ankles. Cats -- electric fur.
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Fog to mist to gentle rain,
my light is obscured by waters,
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Her laughter curls
around flames,
teasing them
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Skirted breeze spills the dandelion seed;
lets the ballet swirl spin as far as I can see.
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She climbs through my branches,
breaks off leaves, makes fans to ease the heat,
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Sat on a rock -- the light played across the brook --
let the sun soak into me. The light danced
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The glass organ sang its hymns.
Finger on rims tuned as gems.
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Sharp, cold the off shore rain
complains of aches and how the wind
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your eyes answered my question before I knew to ask.
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Caught in the stillness of an echo,
the fog betrays itself, smearing
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The morning air: cider fresh, crisp as a MacIntosh.
I soak in the sanguine maples, roll in the gold of oaks.
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where each wave is crested with the froth of joy ~
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We were the wind, the white sails
feeling the hard thrum of the waves against the hull.
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our fingertips, when touching,
look like a bridge of flesh collecting trolls.
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Your fingers on my lips.
held my whispers, let them collect ~
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With toss of froth,
spume splashed, spreads
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The last lance of sunlight,
‘ere the sky becomes bloody
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Trust crushed
into the roots finds no answer.
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These words that lie scattered across the page,
the black and white shadows of the verbal camera
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Poets make love out of waves, feathers left on a bench,
the endless progression of eternity’s that knock
upon a door.
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Everything I am demands I become more
than this role I have been destined to portray.
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My reflection ~ found in her
waters, carved into a possibility.
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Tree’s memories run deep
where the earth becomes liquid.
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Silence has wings and they are full of colors
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The moonlight’s silver brush
reveals what’s hidden by darkened hush.
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