Unravel

The Notion of Love

I want to know
what midday confessions
you won’t whisper through
phone lines, but might confide
to the curve of my neck. Just
like the time when you unraveled
Orion on my back and the universe
fit in our bed, when we came undone
and allowed ourselves to be loved.

*Midday confessions
For #mayfalls18 hosted by @breath_words_ and @a_sea_of_words_

*Beloved
(Though I used it as be loved, sorry✌️)
For #cherryisamaybaby hosted by @__got2haveit

*Unravel
For © Our Poetry Journey Contest
#OurPoetryJourneyMay18

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In the Gold Room – A Harmony: Oscar Wilde

Here’s one of Wilde’s exquisite poems. He knew for sure how to excite the senses.

Her ivory hands on the ivory keys
Strayed in a fitful fantasy,
Like the silver gleam when the poplar trees
Rustle their pale-leaves listlessly,
Or the drifting foam of a restless sea
When the waves show their teeth in the flying breeze.

Her gold hair fell on the wall of gold
Like the delicate gossamer tangles spun
On the burnished disk of the marigold,
Or the sunflower turning to meet the sun
When the gloom of the dark blue night is done,
And the spear of the lily is aureoled.

And her sweet red lips on these lips of mine
Burned like the ruby fire set
In the swinging lamp of a crimson shrine,
Or the bleeding wounds of the pomegranate,
Or the heart of the lotus drenched and wet
With the spilt-out blood of the rose-red wine.

No credit taken for the image used.

 

To my other half

MY VALIANT SOUL

i have swallowed the stars
in my tropical mouths of nostalgia,
coping the insanity, wireless tracks
with sweat and ink
ink and tears.
a blush of my cheeks
and seizure occurs
between our wild sheets
our vermilion warmth.

i sniff the old papers
to give me paper cuts,
threading a crisp jawline
point of felicity
& elision of this
moon dust heart,
i walk spherical
fetching your wet lips
wet mouth and language of Gods
i pronounce you my dalliance
& my nails clutter
in your toxin scent.

©MVS

#NaPoWriMo- 22

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The way- I am

MY VALIANT SOUL

do you remember the blues
penetrating my veins
of penumbra stoic
sheets?
your cutting voice of thunder
like a thorn poking
my chiselled neck & colour
my white skin turning weird
a stinking smell of appearance
& a missing map between cities.
cities of loss, cities of despair.

And i danced in the hollows of horizon
where liquids formed circles of numb rain,
you haunted me, ghost- like lemon peel.
and i peeled the layers, still & obvious.
With mercury dropping, lightings of heart.

( I am a sun- soaked, mosaic formation of wilderness & weed growing under your chin)

©Image and words- MVS

#NaPoWriMo#25

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