Aphrodite Anadyomene: The Deep Allure
"Aphrodite Anadyomene: The Deep Allure"
From churning foam and restless, crashing tides,
upon the silver shore the Goddess stands supreme;
the sea-wet silk of early morning slides
o’er burning skin, a breathless mortal dream.
Exotic ocean blooms exhale their scent,
as swaying sea grass move in rhythm slow,
her fingers trace with delicate intent,
where swelling heated shadows merge
and the breathless murmurs of passion grow.
Her emerald eyes reflect the deep consuming blue,
and trap the stars that pierce the coming night;
the heavy secrets of a flesh made new
awaken in a maze of pure delight.
In shimmering light the siren rises from the silken deep
her naked contours flushed in moonlight pale;
where silver tides and moody penumbra creep,
her fierce allure tears through the ancient midnight veil.
Entwined in warmth where silent currents flow,
and waves caress beneath the trembling breeze,
the glistening sea mist leaves a twilight glow
o'er the moist satin skin, of two entangled there.
Upon the mons where sea anemones bloom,
a soft and quiet peace fills all the air;
within the silence of the twilight room,
a sense of wonder lingers everywhere.
Now Sapphire starlight caught within her eyes,
the opalescent Goddess claims the night;
as if the very heart and soul of all the land
submit to beauty and her sovereign might,
the spirit of time stilled at her command.
Born of the restless crashing tides,
upon the silver sand she stands.
The sea-wet gossamer of morning hides
her true nakedness, her blushing soul smile,
her ink-spun spiralling strands
now form flowing hieroglyphs across white sheets,
a god-given gift, the grace to transfigure and translate
poetic messages from the cerebral -
the Goddess uses her celestial hands to speak.
One breath of sea-salt air sets earth ablaze,
from moist sea foam to passion's afterglow;
beneath the moon, her endless rivers flow,
bound to this magic and beauty for the rest of days.
Upon the heights where sacred roses bloom,
a soft and rhythmic calm fills all the air;
in the quiet moments Phryne writes her way back home
in quiet temples and the starlit room, she holds alone
the weight of longing and despair.
From cresting waves to evening's gentle glow,
Beneath the moon, her endless mercies flow.
From churning foam and restless, crashing tides,
upon the silver shore the Goddess stands supreme;
the sea-wet silk of early morning slides
o’er burning skin, a breathless mortal dream.
Candide Diderot. ‘26
Dora Maar "Untitled (Hand-Shell) 1934”.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
