POETRY AND PROSE

The Sunrise smiled on my upturned face today

I feel good
Enough to eat myself
Of course I mean that figuratively
Or do I mean metaphorically?

POETRY AND PROSE

A Metaphor

A One Night Stand

My thrust is true
Your lips are tight
Your body hard
For my delight
What pleasures we'll know
This darkest night
No sound occurs
Your breath held tight

As I lay inside this guilty sin
Your senses sharp as clay cooked steel
We come to dock on uneven keel
An ode to lust
Love's outer peel.

Yvonne

In the silent, cold of the night
Beneath our table moon;
In your mild, soporific light
Your piercing eyes show through.

In a weary night undressed
A passionate word in black caressed;
Cradled by your exotic lips
A touch of emotion slips.

Sometimes

Sometimes, I feel today’s the day
Sometimes, I sense the month of May
Sometimes, I’m sure my words are true
Sometimes, I know they’re sad and blue
Sometimes, I try to be legit
Sometimes, you know I’m forced to quit
Sometimes, I wish that I was dead
Sometimes, I eat the words I said
Sometimes, the pain is in my heart
Sometimes, I know it’s time to start
Sometimes, I find the sky is blue
Sometimes, I paint in scarlet hue
Sometimes, I speak my heart’s content
Sometimes, I’m sure my ethic’s bent
Sometimes, the time is ripe to mend
Sometimes, a poem has to end.

Sunset/Sunrise

I startled the Sky
By blowing it a big kiss
It blushed deep red

"Goodnight," said the Sun
As he slipped in his bed

The blue/black of the Night

Tell me

So tell me why I succumb to Fires
Of long summer days or hot desires,
And on what cool cave shall I depend,
Or to what frigid fountain shall I bend.
Alas! I look for Ease in vain
When remedies themselves abstain,
No moisture but my tears confessed

Nor cold but in her frozen breast..

The Return of the Unconquered Sun

Broken, shattered by a flower
Lost, rejected into space
Grief-struck, haunted by the hour
Tainted, tempted out of place
The nectar that once flowed so sweetly
Dripping down my fluted beak
I never knew it would be fleeting
Hurting as it made me weak
But now I’ve grown
I ate my fill
And now I’m home
I’m stranger still
Those petals close, the luster fades
I sense the seasons come to end
While flowers fall to gardener’s blades
Although they were supposed to tend
Now the leaves must fall to winter
The time has come to fully mend.

The Veil

Let me smell the air you breathe
And taste the sounding of your voice
When senses rebel at the day
You come to me without a choice.
Huffing, as you spew your scent
Excitement builds inside your soul
Tempting me with sights so bold
Ripping that which makes me whole.
I long to touch you in that place
That makes you Venus to my Mars
And stimulate your silky tones
Eradicating mental scars.
But will you come and spend the day
Making that which means the most
And can you come and settle down
Happy that I am your host?
And when the time to die arrives
I’ll be there with you at the end
We’ll trek the heavens, running hard
Holding hands around the bend.

Time Flies

She was my love of this world
Who never came to me
The promise that was robbed of old
But yet has ceased to be.
Her message was omitted
A bible carved in stone
Such passion she committed
My name she would intone.
The special words she cried at night
The mantra that she said
A tiny mortal’s forlorn plight
A curse upon my head.
Yet softly that she steers her way
Unto my loveless shore
And wanders to that ivory play

That shelters me no more.

Lies

On the crest of the hesitating heart
What a smile seizes the mouth of the hesitant penitent!
What unprecedented slowness in that smile!
What suppressed song in that smile!
And as much as gravity
As much as anticipation
As much flight as return.
What a smile! We would call it provocative yes?
If in its double audacity, in its bright boldness
It were not so damn complete
And so absent
So as not to face anyone.
I ask it
"Where is it that you are leading me?"
"Where is it that you want me to go?"
Those words wait for me everywhere I turn
And after all my days of prison
All my days of quiet contemplation
After all the memories of my incarceration
Have slipped away like an unwelcome dream.
After all the days of work
After all the nights of writing
After all the echoes of past laughter and tears
That have slipped away like a forbidden lover
In the early hours of the morning.
After all I hate and after all I admire
In this chain of change
Comes the refrain
"Is it you my cell-mate, my fellow prisoner?"
You who boasts that all those charming women in your life
Loved you too much.
Is this one of them now singing above my wretched grave?
For not one of my friends has understood me;
When I weep in church
They tell me "That's life."
Not one of my days on this earth
Holds my hand;
I wait in vain for what I dread most:
Love.
Not one of my nights has brought me peace;
A tenderness that holds me close,
A dram, a rose...
I cannot believe that that is all there is to life.
So I flee this compromising cemetery
So full of avoidable resurrections
Like parrots drunk on necromantic words
Their impervious tongues infatuated with the sounds
And taste of the fruits our demise.
The lie is the plaything that we must shatter
It is a garden where we change pace
And find a new place
To hide ourselves better.
Or where we might let out a cry
Just to be half-found.
Is it a mask?
No, for I am much fuller with it
And the lie has such resounding eyes.
Rather it is a footless vase, an amphora
That needs us to hold it up
No doubt its handles ate its feet.
It seems what carries us completes us

And the very moment that lifts us is so remarkable..