Midnight Lovers

Lips pressed to lips
hips to hips divinely so,
curtains flung wide.

Clouds pressed to moon,
beams flicker upon their bed.
Passion illuminated,
bodies melding move
like strobe light scene.

Muddled love,
pressed thru paroxysm
finally splays itself.
Breathing deeply,
hands clasped,
they sleep.

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It’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. De is hosting and asks us to include the word “muddle” in our quadrille (poem of exactly 44 words, sans title). From the kitchen.com “Many warm weather cocktails us fresh ingredients such as herbs and fruit, and often muddling is reuired. To muddle means to press the ingredients agains the side of the glass. Muddling helps to release the flavors of the fresh ingredients so they bind with the alcohol.”

For George

Travelers
in our speck of time.
Daily steps
in mnemonic state.
Treks by car
and plane
and train
to wander
in some different space.

The longest path
shadows behind us.
Still we seek the sun
match our steps
slower stride
hand clasping hand.

Lessons learned
span cities large
cities small.
One constant
across them all.
You have always been
my home.

 

With Apologies to Pablo Neruda

Tus Manos (Part I)                          Your Image (Part I)

Cuando tus manos salen,               Your image curls within my being,
armor, hacia las mias,                    love, unyielding tenant,
que me traen volando?                   will you test my volition?
Por que se detuvieron                     Why is there denial
en mi boca, de pronto,                    as if my time is unhurried,
por que las reconozco                    why is this revealing
como si entonces, antes,                how essential you are to me,
las hubriero tocado,                       like a harbor to the sails,
como si antes de ser                       how is this so hard
hubieran recorrido                        harboring releasing
mi frente mi centura?                    my feelings, my confession?

Pablo-Picasso-Sleeping-woman-Meditation-

This was the most difficult prompt I’ve ever responded to! Day 4 of NaPoWriMo: choose a poem in another language; do not look at the translation. Also choose a photograph (this is a photo of Pablo Picasso’s Meditation). Now, “translate” the foreign language poem into a poem applicable to your photo. Use the “look and the feel” of the words in the original poem but do not look up a translation of the words. I have no idea what Neruda’s original poem says…….so as the title of my post says, “With Apologies to Pablo Neruda”. His words are on the left; mine are on the right. Also posting for dVerse Open Link Night.

Quadrille Passion

Murmur me
sweet poetic words.
Play softly
fingertip arpeggios.

Mirror my passion.
Bounce you to me to you,
rhythmic cadence
tonal harmony.

Blood moon
burns ebony sky.
Come lie with me
in lunar lust.

Staccato.
Allegro.
Crescendo.
Nighttime symphonic love.

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Created for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where it’s Quadrille Monday (poem of exactly 44 words, sans title). Kim hosts, asking us to include the word “egg.” I’ve included “egg” within a word: arpeggios. Past prompts for this quadrille series have included burn, murmur, poet, and bounce: all are included here. We may always use a form of the word . Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us! Postscript:  I think this may not include all the words afterall….as in I think there may be others in this Quadrille series and I may even have listed some wrong ones. I claim Bermudaful scenery outside my window as an excuse….but the poem stands as is 🙂

Tryst

Flambéed love letters
braised the heat,
slow burned me.

Tonight,
succulent strawberries
dipped in champagne,
our effervescent midnight feast.

Windows flung wide,
erotic shadows cast
by flirtatious moon
swoon ‘cross silken sheets.

Your form undulates
‘neath gossamer negligee,
my heart plunges deep.
D’amour delirium.

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Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today Victoria is our host, asking us to use the word “burn” or a form of the word, in a quadrille (poem of exactly 44 words, sans title). For a second and more humorous take on the word, go to my second post, Summer Treat. 

Velveteen Love

Magic is very strange and wonderful.
The moon had risen,
the fronds of the bracken
shone like frosted silver.

The windows stood wide open.
The loveliest fairy
went swooping about like a great wind
amongst the flowers and the butterflies.

At Last! At Last!
When all the house was silent,
love stirred.
To be loved
forever and ever.

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Victoria is tending bar at dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets. She asks us to do some Erasure Poetry. A new form for me. We choose a book or text and by “erasing words” from it (or an alternative way to say it is by choosing words from it), make up a poem of our own. We may only use words as they appear in the book/text. We cannot add any of our own words.  Each line in Velveteen Love is an exact phrase from Margery Williams The Velveteen Rabbit. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!