Notes About The Poem
Sad violin tunes o heart of mine contest Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Steadfast Honeysuckle
They fell in love,
through the doorway of the eyes, as their souls
communed. Silently, they speak in the language
of soul and spirit.
Glimpses of this cadence, seen and heard
in the plaintive hum and lamentation of
bow pulled across strings, then pushed across to
ground us in this world again.
Soft drops of cool Summer rain drip from the clouds
above, playing the land like a piano.
Tender, swollen lips meet no resistance.
Each kiss wet with the slow, heavenly waterfall.
Their passions stir, eyes, lips, hands
caressing body and soul. Their tight embrace
is not nearly close enough. They long, yearn,
to become one, to complete the soul puzzle.
A warm wind picks up, pushing the rain sideways.
Somewhere a lever is pulled with great strength
and the skies open. The rain pounds now with
the force of great war drums, forcing the
tall green blades of grass to bow down in adoration.
As if they too were grass, knees weaken
with need. They fall gently to the earth still in
each others arms.
A frenzied feeding to match the rhythm of rain,
on lips, tongue, and burning skin.
Thunder sounds, so close. A brilliant flash of lightening
turns everything into a negative. As if God was
preserving this moment of purity with a photo.
Oh, how they fell in love!
Rising, rising, reaching, giving themselves
fully to the other. They become one. Singular in heart,
body, and mind.
Bliss and peace was their youthful playground
until they were cruelly separated by duty.
Him, taken away, so far away, to protect family
and freedom.
Anticipation became an addiction sustaining
them…wishes, prayers, hope, and always love.
Pleasure anticipated but never realized builds
walls of bitterness and anger. She, a prisoner,
her sorrows so consuming the air became thick
with its black smoke of grief.
She couldn't breathe.
Some say she wasted away, others that
her heart just broke into a million pieces.
Now, they lie together in the field of tall grass
where they first held each other in love's embrace.
A large pink honeysuckle grows there,
the curving trunk rising up in an embrace
resembling the two young lovers. The image
made by a flash of lightning so long ago, and
displayed with righteous pride.
Never losing its pink and white blossom
through every season and storm, it remains
steadfast as its roots gain nourishment in the soil
of true love.
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.
