Abyss

 

You are,

An unfathomable,

Sea,

Spilling and

Weeping,

Seeping,

Into the

 

Abyss.

 

Craving with thirst,

The taste of your mouth,

Against the salt of my skin,

In the tangled silk,

Of my hair.

 

 Open and

Trembling,

Starving and

Naked,

As a fledgling.

 

Hands,

Piercing,

The crimson skin,

Of Adam,

To taste the forbidden.     

 

Ninety-Degrees

 

 

  

 

A smooth, polished stone

You are,

Temptation written all over,

A quick-silver fish, ninety degrees,

Perpendicular

 

God the incongruence of

Your manhood,

And its beauty too,

An arrow, a bow, and me the mark,

You never miss

 

I crawl on bended hands and knees

To taste the bittersweet,

With madness and desire,

I lay prostrate at your feet

 

No agony or despair,

In the enclave of this bed,

A prayer to the stars above,

 With nothing said,

Just our hands as words  

 

 

 

 

 

 

21rst Century Woman (Part I-Continued)

  

Twilight finally descended,

With darkness coming slowly,

amongst murmuring voices.   

Eyes,

retreating now from the veiled

pretense of their quiet disdain.      

 

For he was unlike the other men,

his hands had been weathered,

by the gathering of red earth

under strong fingers.

 

A life of sun, 

and unforgiving winds had fallen upon his brow

and shaped the deeply etched rivulets, 

around his unusual face.

 

For he could make whole again,

Given to him by the power of dreaming,

That, which was forsaken,

in the place that had given him life.

 

As water might to a seed

which finds life from adversity,

amongst canyons of parched soil.

 

He was not ashamed of this

and so we danced, under the gleam

of pressing heat and white, flashing lights,

Beads of perspiration lining the fading

tint of my lips.

Hypnotized by the breathless air and

the feel of his hands along the curve of

my hips.

 

And slowly I am drawn

towards the core of something raw,

Aware of heightened senses,

primal, seductive.

Awakened by something indefinable.

 

My feet fade into nothingness, 

Spiralling downwards,

into the night which falls away to wondrous stars,

Where did they come from so suddenly?

 

When I awaken I am wilted and without strength,

And I find him there in a halo of light;
Dark eyes peering into mine, inscrutable,
For his arms have encircled me as the halo

of the sun might,

 

And in those arms for one brief moment,

I catch a glimpse of new beginnings.

     

 

The Kiss

 

 

Fine silken threads,

Soft to the touch,

Barely registered,

under my fingertips,

Perceiving so much,

from very little.

In you,

Desire,

Unwavering, unerring,

In that slow draw,

towards an untamed flame,

That ignites

the essence of my soul.

For you overwhelm me,

And I find myself drowning,

in the sweetest of sorrow.

Flailing in my need for the nectar that stings me,

Yet nurtures,

That breath of life

which sings from

your lips.

For you sting me, and yet,

As a moth to a flame,

I sing for you, at the top of my lungs,

And I cannot stop,

Seeking you.

And desiring to touch the bareness of your skin,

Fingertip to fingertip,

Under the hands which transform me

with no remorse,

So deep is my love for you.

You,

The very thing I cannot live without,

Painfully seeking those hands

which plant seeds,

in the tumultuous soil of unbridled yearning.

Reaching towards an unforgiving sun,

Granting me that simple treasure,

With untold joy

and gentle measure,

Infinite in depths of pleasure,

The heaven of your kiss.

 

Ausencia

Amor mio,

nos hemos encontrado

sedientos y nos hemos

bebido toda el agua y la sangre.

nos encontramos

con hambre

y nos mordimos

como el fuego muerde,

dejandonos heridas.

Pero esperame,

guardame tu dulzura.

Yo e dare tambien

una rose.

 

My love,

we have found each other

thirsty and we have

drunk  up all the water and the blood,

we have found each other

hungry

and we bit each other

as fire bites,

leaving wounds in us.

But wait for me,

keep for me your sweetness.

I will give you too

a rose.

Pablo Neruda

  

To My Lips, Wine

  

 

My hands trace the pale, smooth arc

that forms the curve of your waist,

along a narrow drop of

translucence.

Pale in beauty,

yet strong.

Fingers

entwined with care

along the slender stem,

that is you.

Within you,

the red substance,

of intoxication.

Held elegantly against

the sunshine of my

lips.

For you are the wine,

that creates the heady

heights,

of desire

to those who thirst.

The fruit of all needs and

wants,

held within the forbidden redness,

that offers food

to those who hunger.

A sea of red,

held upon a gentle stem,

that holds life,

and offers love.

For you are to my lips,

wine.

 

 

The Promise…

                                                           

I am working on getting a photography album together for all of those who love photography. I must admit, I am not a very good photographer, but I am a genuine and supportive “back-seat” cheerleader for all of those who wander the planet in search of the “perfect shot”. I generally have an eye for form and structure; but lose all semblance of technique and skill when asked to perform the skill of combining an “eye” with that special attribute called technical skill.

Based on this premise,  “never the twain shall meet”. What I do best is paint, in acrylics and oil. Therefore my plan is to take some pictures of my paintings and post them onto flickr. I have been attempting to do this for the last few days without luck; so please have patience as I try to figure out how to accomplish this; given my obstinance, I shall find a way….

My paintings are rather abstract; I do not get obsessed over trying to capture the details of “real life”.  That being said, I use texture and colour to interpret the essence of reality and to construct what I believe to be a close definition of what we all see, not just a personal analysis or interpretation of our shared visual reality.

For example, I painted a picture of the family dog as he sits and looks upon a forest with some pretty wild mauve and pink colour combinations as a representation of the forest and sky. This painting hangs on the wall of my sister’s bedroom. The only kind of painting I can think of that resembles this style is Van Gogh. Imagine “Starry Night” and you might get an idea.  I too love heavy texture and colour and would rather paint with a wild hand then get hung up on minute details. I am hoping to share with you my paintings as well as the photography of a close friend, so please be patient.  

My next poem is called, “The Promise”.  Recently, I have been thinking about the “yin and yang” of relationships and the motivation that exists between men and women as they strive to form relationships that compliment the “who and what” of their being. The truth is, when all is said and done, no matter what the “outside appearance”; we are most satisifed when we discover someone with whom we can laugh, share secrets, enjoy conversation and generally have a “shared vision” for life, love and happiness. Nothing about this or the person is “perfect”, in fact, they are quite often ”imperfect”.  Thus, a dissonance exists between what we perceive as “perfect” and what is ultimately a whole and unconditional fulfillment of our needs.   

How do we know that such a person is the “lock that fits the key”?  They will love and care for you unconditionally and seek your attention and company long after others have left for more promising shores. They see in you what you see in them, a shared vision and understanding, a desire to overcome obstacles; and an overwhelming desire to be in each other’s presence, no matter what the circumstances. 

So, as I have alluded to in previous posts; we often spend a considerable amount of time and energy seeking what we “want”, but in the end, we often receive what we “need”. This what I call serendipity. We all have a need for understanding, unconditional love and happiness. This desire, if recognized, exists in us all. We are motivated to pass along what we have spent a lifetime attempting to achieve. That unexplainable and indefinable gift that occurs only once in as lifetime. That nebulous concept that is so difficult to explain but forms the foundation of life.  Without further adieu, I present to you my poem, “The Promise”. 

 

 

 

The Promise

 

Her skin is soft, pale,

and speckled,

Like the petals of an orchid,

Fragile yet strong,

Hiding the dusky stems

that nurture

the pollen,

In the center,

of a circle,

that is life.

 

With knowing eyes,

She sees though the thickness,

of his skin,

And the walls he has built,

around a soul,

that is invisible

to all,

but her.

 

She climbs easily,

over the walls,

of his garden,

To find what he

cultivates with care.

 

Climbing with ease,

She circles,

and entwines

her pale arms

around the walls,

Like tendrils

of vines,

As they seek,

the morning sun. 

 

That part of him waits

for her,

Quietly,

as roots might,

Lying dormant,

Remaining hidden.    

 

Growing there are buds,

Tightly folded,

and waiting,

For the life of her breath,

And the wetness of his lips,

against the paleness of her skin.

 

He speaks to her

about the gift,

That waits

beneath the ocean

of his desire.

Within him,

Seeking,

with patience

and love,

For what is soft

and expectant,

Folded,

yet giving. 

 

For they shall plant seeds

together,

And scatter them,

But none too far,

With careful hands,

In the soil of their

roots.

 

For he desires

the flowers,

Which remain hidden

beneath the ground,

So that he may place them

gently,

in the silk of her hair.

For they are also

part of her.

 

Their promise,

is tightly kept,

Like the leaves of the bud,

Around the stems of their flowers.

Waiting,

For the breath,

of the sun,

to awaken them.

 

He listens to her,

Eyes closed,

Comforted by her presence,

Waiting once more

to become part of her.

Seeking roots

within the soil

of their desire,

That brings life,

and feeds nations,

Forgives,

and brings faith.

 

Entwined,

Inseparable,

Expectant and vigilant,

As the seed is,

within the woman,

By this man,

With a love,

That even eternity,

cannot surpass.