Scribbler Of Verses Poet I do not know?

Wrestling Verses

Wrestling Verses


Spilling ink onto paper,
reading tea-leaves,

fragments of mirth,
shards of anguish,

remain,
trapped in rolled-up sleeves.


Turning up my collar,
as blue as these days that slip by,

scattered verses plunge into,
the fathoms of unknown waters.


My ink runs, slips, treading lightly,
penning odes to love on bare skin,

your skin,
your bare back my canvas,

my fingers tracing, caressing, scribbling,
homages to our laughter, our tears.


Wrestling verses,

lie spent, exhausted,
famished and parched from saying too much,

still,

my fingers tickle your soft skin,

my ink would run dry,

were it not for your gentle touch

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Charmaine Chircop May 13, 2013 at 5:43 AM This beauty is one of my favourite of favourites of yours..Its sensual classic and romantic-Charma Scribbler Of Verses May 13, 2013 at 9:36 AM Thank you very much, dear Charma! :-)

Sima Mittal May 8, 2013 at 12:11 PM So much is said....thanks for writing... Scribbler Of Verses May 9, 2013 at 3:35 AM Thank you, Sima :-)

Juli- Michelle May 1, 2013 at 12:26 PM So complex and withdrawn. Keep writing, my friend, you have talent, I loved it. love, JuliMichelle Scribbler Of Verses May 2, 2013 at 3:16 AM I am touched that my scribble has touched you, JuliMichelle! Thank you for your warm words!