drowning not sinking
enveloped in velvet waves
breaking with desire
desire
Un-sealed
set first, my verse, in sealing wax
that it may avoid the passing day
for in its lines are passions taxed
to come to light when they’re away
from prying, spying jealous eyes
that may the songs misunderstand
thus must my poesy from all hide
’til set to candle by your hand.
and when the sacred seal is torn
the power of my love is born
inscribed first on the vellum’s rest
to be held but naked to your breast.
A Sonnet of the Flesh
a face engraved in sculpted whole
from photographs faded and torn
upon his shoulder seemed to form
and from this magic bore a soul
lips which held but silent words
laid as silver on the glass
opened and their kiss did pass
effortlessly the world disturbed
thus are dreams realities
within the confines of closed eyes
such reveries I dare surmise
are the birth of fantasy
for in my mind my love’s as true
as flesh desires I feel for you.
She Smiles
she smiles
as poppies blowing in the breeze
no guile or artifice
but nature being as it is
and as it always will
she kisses
as the warm July air descending
the delicate taste of summer
taking my breath
and breathing in return
SCARLET WHISPER
this scarlet whisper,
eyes afire with lust,
hypnotises my flesh
with a voice unheard
yet unable to resist
which takes hold of my heart
and steels my passion,
tumescent desires
to be driven deep
at her command.
She Wears Her Soul
she wears her soul upon her skin
painted hellfire from within
the forest’s spirit, nature’s child
a flower rambling ever wild
the dew that shines upon her breast
glows as if ’tis heaven’s blessed
I pray she lets my full heart in
beneath the soul that paints her skin
What Thoughts
what thought has moulded me this love
conscious though it seems
or was this desire
in passioned fire
cast in crucibles of dreams
Abstract
she paints her longing
in sensual colours bold
I am the canvas
Petals
I dreamt of petals dripping dew
and how their fragrance did arouse
then realised this dream was you
the beauteous of all the flowers
that in my reveries do grow
and fill sleep’s gardens of desires
to serve sensations’ morning glow
and scent my passions as I rise.
Waking
at the end of dreams
begged by a waking desire
I reach out for you