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To My Wife Joyce Standeford

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Below is the poem entitled To My Wife Joyce Standeford which was written by poet Don Standeford. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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To My Wife Joyce Standeford

    My mind's a naturalistic blur;
    She is a hazy green image
    pressed up against the lens
    Our hands press against each other
    only separated by the glass;
    her body is in the shape of crucifixion
    tired arms sagging, feet clinched
    But she sprung from a garden
    once clothed in leaves and life;
    I will die with her, a green tree.

    My Joy, sweet, true,
    Greenish in petals, nature's favorite hue
    You've reached the hill-tops, and
    The sun's yellow flame
    Is now a streak of red, racing past us
    To the land of the dead
    And one day we will meet it there.

    Day unfolds Joy's velvet face;
    She yawns, stretches her
    Round slight jaw at the yellow
    sky. I die for her; she dies too.
    Her desire is for flesh foods;
    Her groans consume my logic; fire
    Clothes her nakedness, her womb
    She gasps for breath and wants
    To drink the sadness of men.

    My Joy, sweet, true,
    Your body's green, tears blue
    Body bowed, droplets of dew
    Do all but taste your sweetness
    And look how sorrowful you shine
    Spinning your petals
    To turn water into wine
    How proud you are of what only the sun
    Has done; I poke gently your stretched skin,
    Feel the strained tenuous echo
    Of strings I've played within
    Wrapped in your body
    I feel enraptured now as then.

    I die for her and she dies too.
    Her heat gasps with the warmth
    Of glowing coals within her, fiery;
    I quit my desire, strangle myself
    With my own bone, cut short
    To calm the bursting blood; red-faced,
    The strength within me starts to bud
    So I am young once more and willing
    To be dumb again in love.

    My Joy, sweet, tenuous,
    I once could play you soft and timorous
    Tears swashing green upon your skin
    Our morning dew did know no sin.
    But dusk falls rapidly upon us
    Skin once beautiful now onerous
    Wrinkles us in shame, still honor finds us
    In the dirges that remind me
    Of the life that's lost behind us.

    My Joy, sweet, tender, kind
    How proud and sorrowful you shine
    I must carry you within
    Buried bodies know no sin;
    You are beautiful and bright
    Burn your brightest here tonight
    And as dusk begins to call
    Let us here upon it fall

    Our closely sewn shadows touch silk, the cloth of our doom
    And the curtains of death do shroud us in eternity's womb.

    Don V Standeford 

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  1. Date: 4/8/2013 4:16:00 AM
    This is a great write Don. Welcome to the Soup. Namaste Rick

  1. Date: 4/7/2013 3:37:00 PM
    Don a terrific write...David

  1. Date: 4/7/2013 12:22:00 PM
    this is a beautiful poem Don... a deep and some what sad dedication.... Linda