That kiss is still moving,
lips pursed, migrating in time
until my own lips pucker
sensing bubblegum lipstick.
That unseasoned taste of young lips
now wayfaring and rekindled
within a hundred mature women.
Landfalls, rainfalls, waterfalls,
all that falling into willing mouths
as if we were parents to each other,
a consuming need
to nurture and be nurtured.
Then those savage collisions
where blood is the thirst,
where lip to lip, fevered senses
are ground into ash or embers.
All those lips perfumed with honey,
bitter root and raw moonshine,
all exploring ways to drown.
That first sweet kiss
still moving on, as a question
in transit, transient, yet as deep
as a desert succulent
or as light
as any other wild flowering.
Categories:
landfalls, poetry,
Form: Free verse
If I'm moon in night's sky and love's warmth's not apparent,
rhymes' truths seem reflected at best, light’s eclipse
still’s a rare thing and not of my choosing! Love dims
in life’s shadow, emerges, but orbit’s unceasing
and lovingly followed, I gravitate to you, space curves
in its presence, all matter’s poetic, though ‘love’ lasts
a second, a blink of sad eyes in the Grand Scheme of Things.
Though at times you look through me, this song’s not transparent,
its waves lap your beachheads, its verse tastes your lips
(light as breadth of a smile felt), makes landfalls on whims.
I’m not panning for gold here, grok heart that’s releasing
your heart to denouement, what’s yours (mapped by stars), not reserves
I might claim, keep in thrall! Might ‘Big Bang’ be what contrasts
God’s Love from all others? Aren’t Rhythms, is Rhyme how She sings?
Brian Johnston
3rd of January in 2021
Poet’s Notes:
I am one poly-amorous poet of platonic love. You may not recognize yourself
in my poem, but I assure you that each word, each letter, each space, even all
punctuation was written with you in mind, for you! InshAllah
Categories:
landfalls, humor, love, poetry, science,
Form: Rhyme
RIDING ON
Destination Dallas
home of the cowboys
land of the brave
intentional target
aimed with precision
at new paths to pave
gravitational phase
surrealistic
skyward wave
spurred on to
something new
beneath God’s
sun and moon
eyes turn inward
anchors pull out
onwards toward
landfalls legends
devoid of doubt
brevity flawed
weak kneed but
hardened jaw
riding on….
© Kim van Breda—14 August 2015
(moving on in life to USA)
Categories:
landfalls, immigration, introspection,
Form: Cowboy Poetry