Once upon a time, a poet named Aberjhani meditated for some months upon the spectacular multi-media literary constructions of another poet named Nordette Adams. The first poet was so moved by the second poet’s sultry lines, curvaceous metaphors, and Frillie-the-dragon-goddess-like demeanor, that he was inspired to write a poem in honor of her birthday.

It had been his plan for weeks to post this poem for her birthday on the very wonderful AuthorsDen site under the category of poetry when the first poet’s mother died just two days prior to the second poet’s birthday. This created what some would call a dilemma because upon his mother’s--WillieMae Griffin Lloyd’s--death, Aberjhani posted a poem in her honor and wanted it to lie in state (in a virtual sense) in tribute to his mother, for at least the weekend. In addition, his poem inspired by the brilliant works of Nordette Adams contained what some might describe as erotic elements and consider inappropriate to publish right after his mother’s death. Well, what should he do?

Aberjhani decided to meditate some more. In his meditations, he heard his mother, WillieMae Griffin Lloyd say, “I kind’a like that girl cause she don’t take stuff off no man just like I didn’t take no stuff off no man. She got her problems but who don’t.  Plus she wrote that real nice poem about you being such a good son and me being such a woman named WillieMae, which she don’t know half as much about as I do but still it was a beautiful thing she did on our behalf. So my counsel to you son, with the understanding that the final choice is yours, is that you give that woman her poem. I’m not saying you need to marry her or nothin’ like that but give the woman her due ‘cause good women don’t get their due enough. Is that something we can agree on?”

Of course we could. So here it is:

  THE GOLDEN ART OF DREAMING NAKED

1.

The sound of drums strip us nude,

bang heated spells around

a circle of dream-dancers

diving in and out of painted flame,

chanting light from one heart to another.

2.

“What a lover’s heart knows

let no man’s brain dispute.”

3.

Above our heads

twin cyber-moons blink

silver kilobytes of secret pleasures

and naked joy shooting meteorites

across the trembling midnight blue

of our slow red rhythms screaming gold.

4.

“What a lover’s soul declares

let no woman’s tongue refute.”

5.

Together we open a book with pages

made of chocolate. And words

written in warm strawberry cream.

We read aloud and make a mess.

Understanding comes slowly,

sweetly, as we lick it off each other––

this tasty language of poetry and dreams fulfilled.

By Aberjhani

© February 10, 2006

Thank you for reading this story. To purchase select stories and articles by Aberjhani distributed exclusively through Redbridge Premium Content, please click here or paste the following link: http://www.redbridgereview.co.uk/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=149&Itemid=44