Oh, Poetry, why are you not
What we think you should be?
Have you not been forever malleable
Pliantly submissive beneath our hammers
Assuming forms that mimic or surpass
The master crafters lingering tones
A thickening of thinning edges
Slicing through the arrogance of time.
Oh, Poetry, must I make you mine?
Court you, cajole you, dance your dance.
Could we not meet as passing lover’s,
Teasers, flaunting temptations,
Scintillating scents wafting wildly
Through a momentary passion,
A secret rendezvous
with desire’s
need..
O
the bane
of being so slavishly in love,
to face another bloodless sunrise alone.
Myself, I’m spun in silken strands enthralled
yet, still stung by the whip of your selfish whims.
Your fleeting presence flashes like iridescence in light,
an elusive rainbow whose colors escape my grasp.
I pine for possession of one I cannot possess,
my burning being’s bewitched.
This yoke of yearning pliantly possesses me;
ensnaring me in the exquisite twist
of the fervent temptations you weave -
as your amorous play strums the lusty lure
of a gossamer thread I wish to follow to your soul,
whilst my purring thirst is captured -- then ignored.
O
the woe
of being caught
in the frill of desire’s web,
aching for the thrill of arching pleasures,
craving to be melted by our molten fusion,
longing forever, wanting and waiting breathlessly
for your wanton appetite to ravish me
always and again.
Susan Ashley
July 3, 2019
N/A
Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 4
Sponsor: Mark Toney
~ Poem Of The Day ~
July 5, 2019
~ Third Place ~
Premiere Contest: Slave To Love
Sponsor: John Hamilton
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.