8 stycznia 2012
Luna
On the cold solstice
the velvet magnet
of Luna's magic
pulls
quietly urges
whispering
gentle spells
into dreamy ears
compelling
her lover
to rise
quixotically
coaxing
him from
the warm sleep
of winters
first night slumber
she summons
a willing lover
inviting him
to follow
her stark
alluring light
illuminating
the lonely blackness
of a bleak universe
her
seductive powers
transcends distances of
a thousand solstices
her
resounding light
a sure mark
braces any weakness
emboldens desire
guiding the bidden
to unforeseen
destinations
standing
in your presence
my face is flush
reflected by your
resplendent light
my heart
broiled
by your
vexing
radiance
the roiling tide
of a midnight reverie
ebbs
as my
earthen shadow
begins to pass
over your
indelible
whiteness
I witness
my dark countenance
eclipse your light
defiling you
fearing
to forever
mark your
effervescent silver
with the baseness of me
without shame
your smile
allays my fear
you understand
you anticipated
the expression
of my
coy reticence
a sweet chant
sings
unencumbered
reveries
gently
reassures
you've danced
through many
moonlit nights
with eager lovers
only to return again
in virginal whiteness
across the
endless cycles
of time
released
relieved
abandoning
all restraint
now
I
summon you
my blackness
your whiteness
breeds a
sensuous
orange
sweeter
then an
open mango
she rules the sky
a celestial monarch
forcing Mars into
a sheepish retreat
commanding
mighty Orion
to sheave his sword
while
Venus
seethes
with envy
my form
begins to swallow
your lines
and
soft curves
my blackness
disappears
into
inviting cracks
falling into
dark creases
the soft billows
sweet mounds
voluptuous craters
gay playgrounds
for my mouth
mysterious hillocks
eagerly explored
with hands and
limbered fingers
a quixotic Eros
the scent of spice
swells in my head
everything
enveloped
like a
holy ghost
playfully gaming
hide and seek
radiantly moving
through
darkened canopies
of a lush forest
nostrils fill
with
tang of spice
a scent
of Caribe
face buried
in thick tresses
of maddening blackness
becoming unhinged
by eyes speaking
a thousand languages
as lips whisper
joyous whimpers
a silent kiss
of an orange lit night
writhing bodies
splayed together
ravenous tendrils
shape sloping
cloud pillows
quivering lips
unveil smiles of
alabaster pearls
mocha darkness
sambas through
the night
she exhales
her lovers name
Luna bathes
her cinnamon curves
in delicious
mango light
offers generous
dollops
of nipple
peeking
baying
drifting
I cast off
onto a sea
of lucid dreams
drinking from
a dark aureole
as the tresses
of her
sweetened nest
moistened my member
in a sacred communion
to a hungry lovers mouth
her dancers legs
slim, supple
unbounded
and open
sweet to taste
smooth
so soft
to touch
the fullness
of our rumba
se los tango
con cha cha cha
light steps
close caress
kinetic commotion
wild laughter
fills the sails
of bold schooners
Luna's smile
commands
the seas
to heave
un poco loco
ola de feliz
los hablamos
un contrara
la estas
la esta
the lavender sky
of the mornings
twilight
inspire
Meadowlarks
to herald
the emerging day
still
drunkenly swigging
loves nectar
sleep creeps closer
confessing
small regrets
she fell
victim
to passion again
Luna
comes back
to her lover
pets his chest
with delicate fingers
in a voice
as light as air
she sings
a poem
into his ear
of passionate nights
beauteous art
longing to express
heartfelt truths
The mango consumed
Luna's whiteness returns
my shadow recedes
into inconsequential
nothingness
naked
I stood
sadly witnessing
the dark horizon
overtaking
my fleeing lover
swallowing her
in tiny bits
as morning drops
a final veil
over the face
of a now
vanished love
Music Selection
Grant Green, Moon River
jbm
Oakland
1/19/11
21 listopada 2024
Drżenia niewidzialnych membranArsis
21 listopada 2024
21.11wiesiek
21 listopada 2024
Światełka listopadaJaga
21 listopada 2024
4. KONTAKT Z RZECZYWISTOŚCIĄBelamonte/Senograsta
20 listopada 2024
FIANÇAILLES D'AUTOMNEsam53
20 listopada 2024
2011wiesiek
20 listopada 2024
3. Uogólniłbym pojęcieBelamonte/Senograsta
20 listopada 2024
Mówią o nich - anachronizmMarek Gajowniczek
19 listopada 2024
Bielszy odcień bieliMarek Gajowniczek
19 listopada 2024
Niech deszcz śpiewa ci kołysankę.Eva T.