Woman

by

Phoenix Flight

Flames of her passing

stream the silence between

breathless twines of human grace,

the air, her plane–the smooth fall

among the flesh,

a look to pin the longing touch,

thirst for the flight they cannot share.

Merely human, cries the hush

of lights along her occupation–

no remedy for the pale drip

her candle set upon the choir.

Night lies in the dismount.

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One Winter Morning

She woke before me,

straining her brush through aurora strands,

smiling at the pale gown

reflected in the blue-green mirror.

 

When she stretches,

pink melon breasts exposed at the nipple

collect prism dew, drowning

in the throb of rehydrated crystal needles.

 

The vapors of her perfume are scentless,

senselessly caressing the rivers of her eyes

like butterfly winds—fluttering out

from east to west; an oriental song.

 

But the lantern burns—

by night she is radiantly departed:

she lays her head in my lap

and the mascara runs in shadows down my leg.

*Out of season by the title, I know, but I hope you’ve all enjoyed the cool touch of this one all the same…my contribution to what may well be the last, or one of the last One Shot Wednesdays at One Stop Poetry. It has been an honor and a pleasure, everyone. I look forward to visiting you all outside of the linkies though, and to continue basking in your poetry as time rolls on.

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Bloom and Wilt

Enfold in me

your light, your life–

sweet summer child

turn not your color from my heart,

the scent of pine trees,

sculpted in the dawning,

where all of nature is the swell at your sweet breast,

the gathered breaths cultivating

convalesced coercion of my soul.

Breath to breath, I seek your notes,

the tantalized texture of your smile

writhes still in me, in places

only faith should know.

You drink me, though you do not know

the taste of my desire–

the character in the caricature–

myself, I, wilting in that shade,

in those dark places where your lips and light

shall never know, nor ever sing.

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Enjoy the Show

Photo © Mike Roemer.

Smoke curls on skin,

The taste of ash in flickering den –

—Like candy, almost they –

Swill it down in cabernet, the swirl

Around me howls revelation

And they think that I’m salvation –

—Little yellow dress and a

—Come hither stare gripped –

But hunny, look again –

Everybody gets a taste, but the wine

It’s just for sipping –

—I can smile at the sensation

—But it’s just a Vegas show;

—No dipping, you dip.

My submission to the latest One Shoot Sunday Photo Prompt, with that spicy little pic provided by one Mike Roemer, a Wisconsin Photographer I interviewed for One Stop. Great guy, with some really crisp commercial photography…very high quality stuff. Have a look when you get the chance, and check out all the other poets inspired by the prompt!

And also, a writer’s note. WordPress was being uncooperative today. All lines with the “—” in them are meant to be indented. So when you’re visualizing the structure of the piece – bear that in mind.

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The Power Within

This next Haiku is dedicated to my sister-in-law: a wonderful woman, with a strong spirit, and a smile that could light the darkest of rooms. She also packs an unexpectedly strong right hook. Perhaps not the image you would expect when someone utters the words “Black Belt” to you, but she certainly lives up to the title she’s earned.

Small frame, strong spirit

The smile no indication—

Power sleeps within.