Smoulder
I wish to dance,
With frolic motion,
To lie supine,
Gazing,
At your iridescent
Mirrors; furtively,
Of teal emotion,
Hiding behind
Reek of whiskey,
And many a cigar,
Vanilla-scented,
Many a tome,
And words, and phrases,
Embellished, finely attuned
To your enchantment.
Oh, how does my heart
Yearn for abasement,
Divine consortium,
Chafing on whetstone,
For soft canopies
Of velvet,
And the underpass
Of Shame!
A barefaced lie,
The juries ought say,
But a magic one,
Indeed.
Actuates the deepest
Senses,
Makes a fight,
In hours of need.
One does not take note
Of others,
Granulous as
Common sand,
For what purpose
Serves the oyster
When the pearl is in thine hand?
And to what avail
The bonfires,
Burning slow with petty smoulder,
When the flame of gilded hairlocks
Poureth deeply
From your shoulders?
Comments
Dianna Mendez on April 14, 2018:
Your poem really brings out the emotion!
Larry Rankin from Oklahoma on March 30, 2018:
Wonderful description.
Ann Carr from SW England on March 24, 2018:
Superb! Unbridled emotion with reckless abandon!
Well done.
Ann