and
she was soft
my spatulate fingers
wiped her warm tears
her heart was melting with
fire hot like lava flowing down
curiously innocent caressing her
long neck tense and rigid could feel
i kissed her thoughts at the bay of her
lips like a stranger with glorious uncertainty
the green spread the horizon of love
smell of chlorophyl hung there
her face the radiance spread
and the waves rejaculated
into the womb of the sea
july 12 6.15 pm
I began to look around at my world
I tried to remember to keep it all in perspective
But...
My inner vision kept me running from the structures
At hand
The money the war the strife the blank faces the desperation the lack of regard
Has kept me in the generalized vortex created by the seemingly slow and the weak
It's very hard to avoid
I tried to keep these things so far from my family and myself
A force field of the strongest magnitude to encircle and to protect us
Through the nonsense
It's very hard to do
The ghosts at 3 am strike the outer electrons with vigor
Waking me with the strangeness of an unannounced visitor
The plants are vibrating in all directions
Shedding their chlorophyl onto my freshly painted flowers
The penumbra of their shadows
Deftly mixes with the fringes of my imagination
Is this sleep
Or have I inadvertently entered the realm of another
Constant dimension
The coyotes are alive down at the river's edge
Calling out with the sound reminescent of a howling woman
Tonight I will fight the urge to sleep
Until I have come to grips with my personal nemesis
Myself
Two leaves fell from a different tree
And the loss of the world was all the same
There is beauty in all diversity
Difference of temperature changes not the flame
The sun that comes down a barren sky
Prowl and prospect among all leaves alike, he
Don Juan, on green leaves lovers of lie
Bringers of semens of light, we yield in glee.
We have not fallen yet, my dear, unless
Our love shall wither up our root
Race is nothing but the skin of superficialness
Let us meausre all merit by truth
I transform light to sugar as much as you
And pull deep waters up to give again
More than oxygen, more than bosom for the dew
We are the maker and licker of rain.
Palmate or pinnate it does not matter now
You are sharon like the rose, and I
Thorn or petal am still apart of the bough
One storm, one season brittle and dry
And we shall lie together like mulch where
Yesterday our tongues were tied in
Words, moaning on the happy, happy air
Chlorophyl sweet desire stirring the skin.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.