April 30, 2012

poem 145 of a poem a day for 2012 (NaPoWriMo33)



a satyr spied a dryad 

I happened upon
this spun clay
cupped bent
kneel drink
of water
and what I found
was that I was
quenching my thirst
with every tremble
pouring of the fool
wanting to feel
his way home
wrapped of her again

I wanted to dance
outside my physical world
in a smile of pure devilry
with a hearty lust for her angel wings
if only to fly in her curled vines
where a night together starts
a capitulatory story spill
of waiting arms wading
into morning's glorious recall of

slow sips
vined lips
and hips that fit
spooning nectar
to the bloom
through the loom
we press and whorl
lever and string
the murmurs of moan
sewn into where our soul's
cages meet our bones
crawling in the wet sand
that time often writes
our names into
when chanced upon
a choice to eat
and drink only of
desire for more bliss

and some may think that 
this was never a choice
and that makes me smile
at the chance
I've just taken
with a hush quiet step
and my oh so nimble tongue 
savoring her fingers

EJR ©

3 comments:

  1. Rich and deep like wet loam, smooth and elegant as silk.

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  2. ...as eyes are the vines of what our noses know to find when praying on all our corners of woods and sublime,as trance rhythms please with knees,happenstance rides to rhyme...thank you... : ^ )

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