The chase

         I snuff out the candles in our room.
It is the time:  a forest awaits
for a hunt, breathless, under our bare feet.  
         Moonlight blazes above the sky,
         stormy as your eyes.

        In my dream before reality,
I am the hunted wolf  & you, the hunter.
You scent me better than the hounds,
        grounding me, my heart beating
        louder than my legs.

        You take your knife, slicing
me open like an offering, our bread. 
There is the taking & the giving-     
        as I burn, sliding down
        your throat like wine, feral & heady.

        Soon a heart
grows underneath my ribs.   Pulses  
and stretches like branches, into a tree.       
        My eyes hold your whispered awe, 
        tender  as  spring.

        We chase 
again.   But  I  do  not      let        you 
find    me          easily
                                        this       
                                                       time.

Posted for:   D'verse Poets Pub: OpenLinkNight - Every Tuesday, starting at 3 pm EST. Thanks for the visit ~ 

Picture credit:  tumblr.com

When spring comes

Unlatched,

spring explodes - this:

 - pouring rain, river spell-     

painting a canvas, oiled & dabbed,

breathless-

Unlike

any art frame

-you in me, me in you - 

layered in light, grey & darkness,  

curled tight- 

fisted,   

where the flames lick  

the sheets, we love harder--

bonding -- and this is where language

fails us -

Posted for:   D'verse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Thanks for the visit -
Poetry form:   cinquain (2-4-6-8-2 syllables)

Picture credit:   tumbler.com

Words at the tip of my tongue

at the tip of my tongue,
it dances slowly, 
awakening spring bud, 
unfurling pink leaf


it dances slowly
ballerina on tiptoes
unfurling pink leaf 
stretches arms wide open 


ballerina on tiptoes 
like a cocktail glass,
stretches arms wide open
leaps in mid-air, lingering    


like a shaken cocktail,   
awakening taste buds,
to leap in mid-air, then lingers      
at the tip of my tongue

~0~0~0~0~0~0~ 

I prefer the verb        
          to the noun
                when I am
                     with you


                        dripping  
        
                    so slowly
       
               or faster
       as I want to
 or moving up
and     down


as I like to


sweating
cradling hips       
gripping  arms


writhing to music   


at mid-point, adding dashes--


and punctuation points ! !, ending with a sigh~




First post:   D'verse Poets Pub - Pantoum form
Second post:   Flash Fiction Friday -for the G-man - Tell a story in 55 words ~
Shared with Poetry Jam - Verbs    


picture credit:  here

Glass and lavender

in this land 
of maple trees, i am a

sugar cane harvested in summer 

stripped of roots and leaves, my tongue 
twisted   as   you   blow   pipe   my   ears 

give me your lips, open your thighs, 

come  to   me  like  a   thunderstorm 

pen drips of molasses, darkening spoon on white plate 

rippling the rock garden, raked into stillness by monks 

how   well   you  cleave  me,  my  wind   whisperer, 

i thought i was made of hollow bowl, seedless grey,  

but i am young again in mouth-blown Reidel glass 

   flowing ice wine, soft lavender on your palms,      

stem bent listening to the  

    

sea and sun 

Posted for Imaginary Garden of Real Toads and D'verse Poets Pub:   OpenLinkNight 


picture credit:  here