are you still stinking of me from that passion’s night and does that tongue bleed my bite? are you lost in the ocean of my fluids and drowning in quicksand seeking breath? the crumpled sheets of our unpoised fecundities are on the other side of the universe and you are a child lost in the folds the paths of sunken debris and moist waves the veins have somehow exchanged our bruises and a me-you cuts on the river of placid voids
are you still counting the moves of our carnal bends like the stormkissed edges sweeping thoughts? the tryst has stolen our paths of destiny unwrapping unknowingness withering tomorrows treads heavy like the soiled waited breath and you write the words of passion lost and we etch our souls on stones of silenced emotions I write on yours and you on mine as we trade fantasies on rusted frescoes on the walls that bind our worldly synchronicity
yet we have us still on the shaken bridge
unfolding time
Saberi, you are able to write with the beauty of words entangled in the intimacy of pain and joy simultaneous. The fabric of romance unfolds in the artistry of your heart.
very well thought out write. a touch of wit and sarcasm blended with such deep passion and desire. brought together "on the shaken bridge unfolding time " i love the last line. to unfold time would be a powerful thing.
this poem explores both side of love and passion, flesh and spirit ... it is a self-explanatory query into the temporary balance and shaky foundation they force onto our willing beings ...
i like the uniqueness of imagery and the amalgamation of sarcasm and desire ...
"the crumpled sheets of our unpoised fecundities"
"we etch our souls on stones of silenced emotions"
Very soul-searching, mildly cynical; the afterglow you have created in this is intoxicating. Well done!
Blessings ...
Richard
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on October 13, 2007
Quite a mind-stiring poem with questions asked without really needing an answer . . . Angst-influenced is the biting scarcasm and reality is the base from which it came . . . Exceptionally well done . . .
I met Jerome on a busy city street in Baltimore, Maryland, when he was forty-five years old. On that particular day, I was out and about, enjoying a much-needed day off from work.
I wanted to purchase a sukiyaki sub. I parked my car in an area of
I met Jerome on a busy city street in Baltimore, Maryland, when he was forty-five years old. On that particular day, I was out and about, enjoying a much-needed day off from work.
I wanted to purchase a sukiyaki sub. I parked my car in an area of
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always,
randy
i like the uniqueness of imagery and the amalgamation of sarcasm and desire ...
"the crumpled sheets of our unpoised fecundities"
"we etch our souls on stones of silenced emotions"
Very soul-searching, mildly cynical; the afterglow you have created in this is intoxicating. Well done!
Blessings ...
Richard