Tag Archives: patience

Fruit

you hang low, plump …inviting

sumptuously spawned in summer sun

fleeting fruit so tempting

luxuriant on lubricious limb

the one

should I pluck you now?

anticipating viscid juices, trickling down my chin

should I wait for fuller flavour?

as it intensifies within

i hesitate with such a thought

i spin you, stem spliced with spiral strain

observing the peachy pirouette

seasonally engorged

to please again

The Bookmark

i am a tattered bookmark

nestling between feathered pages

the best time of your day you say

with coveted book, to read in stages

..

but alone in the light of day

to leave this worded catacomb

i’ll edge away from threaded spine

seeking freedom from paper home

..

so many of your transient reads

have evoked smiles…private tears

i’ve watched them come and go

i the constant,through the years

..

but these pages are not my friends

they constrict with musty damp

so rest me on your bed time lap

there us both, by oiled lamp

The scent of morning

you are succulent, sublime

a titillating triumph

worthy of rhyme

presented to bewildered senses

..

oh, if i could but breathe you

..

but your scent has been lifted

in flagrant defiance to my need

a fragrance deified with floral emollients

into a crystal vial

lush, concentrated

tucked under Raziel’s wing

contents sealed, angel warmed

to wait

until our empyrean dawn

..

for, on that day

mere misted drops of you

melding with the amber morn

shall rhapsodize

such a horizon resplendent

with dawn’s resonant sighs

 

Float

i am at one with a morose mist

it creeps over, draping

it’s moist tendrils

merge, shaping

shivered fingertips

to settle

on prostrate limbs

so inviting this mellow of

malleable depths

..

lament not

these quagmired proclivities

i chose this home of drawbridge splinters

of fenland, forest and fortress

to nestle your frigid winters

and linger in murky,

mired martyrdom

a stagnant slimed moat

together beneath ice sheet

our cloistral bodies still float

Wilted

I have all the time in the world

for you

Which is to say

I’ve found a little fertile patch of ground

Sheltered from the sear of the day

And there place, with gentle press

You, single seed

In state of pre-pumule* undress

..

But the early spring

Is cooler

than most

And the frigid ground

a near inhospitable host

for your translucent roots

..

So you turn from my hesitant gaze

You course through weeds,

their maze

a convolute of root and thorn

such wayward course, I try to warn

..

you

wilted shoot

I shall not mourn

*The plumule is the part of a seed embryo that develops into the shoot bearing the first true leaves of a plant.

Home

how have I ever been able to call anywhere else home

when home is here

enveloped in your tantalizing valleys

your fertile undulations

invite lush thought

empty years

traversing empty

to find you in suffocating winter

dormant, cracks permeating ice crusted lakes

branches bare, devoid of bud

patience now my sweet

as ever close, our time to meet

then to part these mists that choke

and sweet spring

our love invoke

Lacrimas Profundere

i wrap myself in solitude’s cloak

tightly bound

concealing, errant

feelings to impound

 

harsh wool collar, lacrimas damp

scratches

numb skin, inducing rashes

neither felt nor seen

for in shadows

grazes convene

 

tattered truth parchment

tucked close to breast bone

fragments on tongue, stutter

dry choke, mouth open, then flutter

as doves from a magician’s hat

bet you weren’t expecting that!

yet…

no sense to be made

from this chaotic word scatter

 

where are you….

kneeling, I await

my amphora bearing spectre

parched heart to rehydrate