As moments pause and hearts take leap
When breaths are swelled and passions peak
When moans, unheard, break the surface
And passion's dew... finds her graces
When life is found for broken hearts
Then hearts are sewn ...give light to dark
When all the vastness of scarred tissues
Mist the form of hidden virtues
Then broken parts are left to fly
When eyes are opened to crying...cried
When guts are groomed and passion found
Then light is given..love abounds.
Its colors, rainbows...light is blessed
Its prismed moistness on the breast
Its trails of silver laden lips
The peacock splaying in love's mist
Back to front and then reverse
Its push and pull until it hurts
Its flames of red hot...whiter cores
Its love unlike none before
Its more than love as mortals know it
Its unlimited passions...married...fitted
Its friends and second sort of senses
Its leaping bounds and pent-up fences
Love is lips so full and fluid
Southern women...stately Druid
Merger... kindling... starting fires
Firey fusion in love's desires.
Susan
this is pure passionate love poetry at its best
haven't read such beauty for a while
great to read you heavenly thoughts once again
Love & Peace be with you
OMG You sorta got me hot with this one [It'sa man thing]. I'm so glad that you have risen from all your troubles with such passion--Wow!
Ron
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on November 26, 2009
Love it when you bare the southern womanhood, my friend, because you are absolutely that and in spades. Beautiful phrases and wonderful images you conjure in your black iron pot of love's grits and chittlin's and romance's southern comfort and warm smiles. You da bestest . . . jpb
You capture the veritatble tug of war that loving and being in love often is, the highs...the lows, the passion...the withdrawls, the elation...the depression, the sadness and the happiness all do hand in hand...
fee
I was reminded of all those things I want, in careless contemplation and dreamed of a statley Druid to answer through your words. You are a wonderful poet, what else can I say.. Happy Hoildays My Dear Friend
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
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this is pure passionate love poetry at its best
haven't read such beauty for a while
great to read you heavenly thoughts once again
Love & Peace be with you
William
Ron
And Stately Stated.
The poet's fire,
for a moment.....sated.
Pretty good stuff, Susan.
~W~
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Happy Thanksgiving: I'm thankful for YOU. =]
fee
A perfect poem for the senses Susan!
Love it, and the pic!!
Thank You!!
xox :-D