Sunday, July 29, 2012

Celestial Theft

If every star in the night,
shined as glorious, shined as bright,
as the one I gaze at with my eyes,
'twould fill too full the midnight skies.

Oh that I could hold in my hand,
that star so golden, star so grand,
to see its beauty and feel it close;
it sheds light on life so morose.

Would that it be so very fair?
And should I venture, should I dare
to pluck such beauty from its home,
deprive the world, call it my own?

Have I such gall to up and snatch?
Beauty so real, beauty unmatched?
Or shall I share this shining star,
with people here and lands afar...

By latter's will I'll sit at night,
wishing to abscond with light.
It is not mine, but still I'll share,
its radiant beauty, stark and rare.

Friday, July 27, 2012

Arresting Edge

Fingers trickle across my skin,
light and slight and tight within.
It builds and fills and tinges trills,
a testament to sensical skills.
Anti-climax and full halt,
No repletion this assault.

Cute Ears

Velvet comfort wrapped around
a heart the size of the world.
Snoring softly, breathing gently,
tucked under and curled
against my side, under my arm,
and trusting my embrace.
Adoring eyes gaze back at me,
cold nose, long tongue - puppy face.

Sunday, July 22, 2012

Radiance

The sky shimmers tonight.
Tonight
stars shine so clearly bright.
Bright
comes the sun at dawn.
Dawn
plays its radiant song.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Drought

Sweltering, torrid,
parched, stale,
wretched, agony.
Open pores, salty,
gritty -
I lament the rain.

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Nocturnal Iniquity

I feel a beat to our fun through my toes,
and not just from the floor.
This elixir dulls and enhances all at once;
it's hot, cold, easy and sweet.
Sometimes it burns in a sickeningly slow descent to my stomach.

You asked me to dance,
but this rhythm smells like old sweat
and mauls my hips.
I'll play until the sun bakes my dry eyes.

Monday, July 9, 2012

Black and Mild

Warm needles whisper down my throat,
dancing with nuances of black cherry and vanilla.
My guilty pleasure carries the scent of death and clears the room -
conditionally outlawed,
consistently ostracized,
and for a woman considerably odd.

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Fresh Baked Earth

Searing black thatch on chairs or sizzling concrete,
standing has its merits.
Butter thick air crawls around me,
a steaming mantle which prevails,
clinging and clogging the lungs in deafening silence.
This warmth oppresses the savage beast;
it humbles the hum of life.
(heavily quiet power)
A green breeze carries the musky scent of freshly baked earth.
Today, nature burns.