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Open Poetry #46

Soul Slivers

Richy
Member Elite

since 2003-05-03

Posts 3050

0 posted 2010-03-20 05:00 PM

This white sheet
aglow,
of virgin light.

It glistens loud
in its silence.

She yearns for me,
always there.

Eyes closed wide,
in her waiting.

As prey to the poet,
muncher of
muse.

Imbiber of language
and smoker of
hues.

It is here,
where her harbor,
and mystery
abides.

As she lays in the
corners
and points
of both sides.

In between
right behind
all the words that
are read.

She hides behind
letters
that fear to
be said.

Don’t try
hard to find her
where lost
goes to hide.

That place
you won’t look,
right in front,
of your eyes.

Reach out
and caress it,
she bites
if you let her.

Her questions
have teeth
to answer
you better.

She’s the canvas
of capability,
this shroud
of delusion.

A sounding board full
of your sin
and confusion.

As she beckons
with promise
of legacy and vain.

Like the wily
little vamp
who has nothing
to gain.

She coaxes
the cockles
of my spirit and
loin.

And grasps
on the grips
of the height of my
groin.

Her light,
incandescent
that kisses
my eyes.

Begs me
to cover
her porcelain
thighs.

With contrasting
warmth
of my font number
12.

Her alabaster
back drop
is where I do
delve.

A sea full
of snow drift
she awaits
for the thaw.

Her melting
of meanings
and seasons of
awe.

Her sure expectations
foreseen in my
word.

This visual passion
of things yet,
unheard.

She tempts me
with bareness
I clothe with my
eyes.

Her naked libido
she fills with
her lies.

My fingers pressed
softly
her need for my
touch.

They push
on her buttons
and give her
so much.

Finally her voice
starts to
wither alive.

She hithers and
comes
and her story
survives.

When its
all said and done
these are slivers
of soul.

Two needs
put together
still make up
a hole.

These lone sheets
of blankness
we stare at
each night.

They ask us
to give them
the power
of sight.

We give it
a voice
and we
breathe in our
life.

Then we
slice off a poem,
from our
heart,
with a knife.

Margherita
Member Seraphic

since 2003-02-08

Posts 22236
Eternity

1 posted 2010-03-21 04:03 PM

quote:
A sea full
of snow drift
she awaits
for the thaw.

Her melting
of meanings
and seasons of
awe.

Profound sensuousness unfolds in your incredible poetic creation, dear Richy.

quote:
Then we
slice off a poem,
from our
heart,
with a knife.

And this knife is called true passion.

Love,
Margherita

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