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Mickey White Poem
Our love begins
like the shy child that turns from a kind eye,
stealing peeks through timid smiles,
or the sleeking bronze fawn that stills at the sounds of soft winter rainfalls.
But cool waters stir, and the golden dawn warms the chilled morning air.
Emerald jays awaken to join the light dances,
kindling pastel petals to stretch and sigh,
glowing as they unfold the day.
The tumbling earth now lurches, and the scorned sun mounts the sky,
while crimson orchids quiver and cower below,
The heat and hatred of the world rains down,
pools into our souls, and they suffocate,
sinking slowly into breathless oblivion.
Grace awakens, light changes, softens,
and hands of white fire reach down
into our very hearts,
illuminate our hopeless corners,
and carry the darkness away on the peaceful night winds.
We wake within this quiet moonlight,
our love reborn again
beneath the silent stars of our Father.
Copyright © Mickey White | Year Posted 2009
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Mickey White Poem
Well, is this poem doing it for you?
Should I dress it up in black lace and garters
and shakily strut my stuff in haughty heels
for your emotional erection?
Just what I thought,
a pathetic poetry pervert,
another silent stalker
eavesdropping in the thick midnight,
snooping through shameful shadows
(hold on while I reapply the crimson lipstain)
Oh, you like it like that?
I’ll do whatever you need to get you to
feed and suck
on this saccharine heroin
Here, let’s get it over with
Slide the drapes closed will you?
Under darkness, over muffled traffic
come crawling wet mouth sounds . . .
That’s right
I just caught you gawking in shock
at the silhouette moaning my depravity
What, are you done?
Then roll back over
and let me shake in your vacant silence.
Copyright © Mickey White | Year Posted 2009
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Mickey White Poem
Oh hi there!
Yes I'm fine
can you hold on just a sec
while I prepare myself
There
I think I’m ready for you
to read this
No wait
Lemmie get my words in order
Have you seen my heart anywhere?
What happened to the hope
I put on this shelf
It was here just a minute ago
I don’t suppose you came across
inspiration or passion on your way in
Okay sorry things are a mess over here
can I just straighten up a bit?
Now I think I am ready for you
Wait,
You know I’m not a real poet, don’t you?
I hope you weren’t expecting
emotional revelations or
deep understandings or
spiritual awakenings like
what did Mrs. Halfpenny call it?
anyway
Forgive me this place is a wreck
There’s not much more to me though
than this is what you see
I’m not sure what you were expecting
and oh I think I hear the baby
Well this has been pleasant
May I get your hat and coat?
We’ll do this again I’m sure.
Okay they’re gone.
Copyright © Mickey White | Year Posted 2009
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Mickey White Poem
What did I do
To deserve you?
You are an angelic blessing,
You blossom anew each season
As you find new strengths for new struggles.
Your loving, radiant smile kindles and warms,
And your inviting, dark eyes love and tease and smolder.
You have strength in spirit that burns like white fire,
you are kind and compassionate,
and beautifully vulnerable.
Wife, mother, sister, friend, human,
and God’s little girl,
I celebrate each imperfection
as my own perfect creation.
Copyright © Mickey White | Year Posted 2009
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Mickey White Poem
He comes.
Graceful as the ghostly moonlight
glittering among the thorns,
he comes.
I feel him,
the warm whispers of the quiet forest listener.
He saunters, leans, and looks,
approaches, crouches low.
I cannot let his deadly perfection come so close to me!
But see how he relishes me?
See how my blood-heat kindles him?
See how he feeds on my submission?
Look—His hungering eyes grow dark for me,
reflecting legendary, horrifying depths . . .
he fights himself,
and his stone shoulders tighten
with restraint and desire,
with wicked control.
But he is too much, even for himself,
so the night lion growls and pounces.
There . . .
slowly . . . I feel it . . .
My inhibitions
are his infinite delicacies.
His breath is hot upon my neck!
He turns my face to him,
his eyes flash and blaze,
he caresses me with warming fingers,
and floods of sweetest fire weep over me!
Not to drown, but reborn
as his consuming desire
feeds my resurrection in him!
She waits.
Beautiful as the silver moonlight
pooling among black petals,
she waits.
Poor prey . . .
Why does something so preciously helpless ever evolve?
Why so tender? so perfect? so submissive? so sublime . . .
See, she struggles to conceal her quaint scarlet blushes,
and her small pale hands make weak display.
But there is strength in her, and she knows . . .
She senses the warm breath of my desire hover over her.
Poised, I pause above her lips.
The clinging mist upon her flesh is sweet!
With graceful sinister motions,
her full, bare throat yields her honey drops.
Her neck’s thick pulse pounds,
hearts plunge and bound,
blood-oiled bodies
joined in deathly counterpoint.
I soak in her sounds, while
she bellows longingly in the glade,
echoing moaning notes,
black sounds escape the velvet forest,
revealing the heart’s darkest parts.
Her trembling life retreats, revives,
releases . . .
Now, my gentle fawn,
You will rise angelic against death’s glowing darkness,
reborn within our sacred ceremony,
sacrificed, for our secret moonlit marriage!
Copyright © Mickey White | Year Posted 2009
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Mickey White Poem
If I understand you correctly,
I should keep my distance
Unless you need me
Then come running
To your rescue
And when others are around
I may be virtually ignored
But when you have time for me
We can laugh and reminisce
But I shouldn’t say much
To avoid misinterpretation
Although too much distance
Will make things awkward
When you feel lonely
Or tipsy
You retreat into our friendship
But when happy and confident
You primp and strut, chin up
and I should keep my distance.
How am I doing so far?
Copyright © Mickey White | Year Posted 2009
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Mickey White Poem
I like to imagine you
sleeping warmly
hear you
breathing softly
sense your body
rising slowly
within the tiny peaceful silences
between dreams
in these dreams
you embrace my warmth
and fold your own soul
of honey and gold
into mine
now close your eyes
this is me . . .
this is you . . .
as we drift softly to sleep,
a quiet night rain washes
over heaven’s silver shores,
echoing the peaceful silences
between my dreams
and yours
Copyright © Mickey White | Year Posted 2009
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