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Open Poetry #25

Last Virgin Sigh

Sandpiper
Senior Member

since 2002-06-15

Posts 738
land of flora and fauna

0 posted 2003-03-10 07:18 AM

the smell of wet grass
painted glass soles of an artist
stepping soft in the shatter;
a summer night,
weeping humid
over wet flesh,
became that place
where thighs rise and fall

while the girl chased fireflies
her woman was born
in silent blinding;
suns paled
to screaming moons
and stars
begged touch,
all she had to do
was reach beyond
innocence,
as her last virgin sigh
rode the hot winds;

such heat smothered
the Augusts of her memory,
branding sweet musk
into every pore
and into
as many tomorrows
as she could ever know

she watched
fireflies disappear--
nothing,
would ever be the same

"And it was at that age...Poetry arrived in search of me...And something started in my soul."
Pablo Neruda

Cpat Hair

Member Patricius

since 2001-06-05

Posts 11793

1 posted 2003-03-10 07:26 AM

wonderful write.. both sensual in a way..resigned sadness or tinged regret in a way... but acceptance.that indeed... nothing will be the same...

enjoyed...and perhaps my own reflected moods taking things out of this not intended..if so.. my apologies

Brad Majors