|11-24-2012, 10:44 AM||#1|
Join Date: Mar 2006
for most of the night
dancing figure cut
with beams of light;
an acoustic set of healing chords,
weaves body language sheet music
we tap feet to unconsciously;
wraps the bare walls up,
seals the windows leaking heat,
beacons in her shadow,
resonating like a warm wind stirs a field of wheat;
a joyful reverence
for the infinite
call to arms
to bring color to the colorless
for most of the the night;
laugh that wildfire that burns away the underbrush and wills the saplings rise,
skin that barn-house in Iowa whose red paint guise never seems to falter,
hair strands are those fireflies that haunt the Georgia skies,
and eyes contain a sparrow’s first flight, awkward and triumphant, small being
being filled with wonder and surprise
for most of the night she is a flaming bush,
an autumn thrush,
the early morning dew,
the twilight dust,
but after each shadow has been extinguished,
and i stand there like a child fumbling to unzip her dress,
and as the straps fall off her shoulders and she steps naked from the cloth,
she runs her fingers through my spirit
lifts my chin enough
for me to watch her dissipate
as her human form, overflowing and supremely bright
is again forsaken
to return to walk this world as moonlight
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Last edited by #1 synth : 11-26-2012 at 07:22 PM.
|11-25-2012, 10:35 PM||#3|
Join Date: Oct 2009
I know the feeling.
This is very good, I really enjoyed reading that. One of those pieces that makes me regret being a lazy writer and at the same time look forward to reading/writing something, reliving a moment like that.
|11-27-2012, 07:30 PM||#6|
Join Date: Mar 2006
my problem is that this is still coming off as way too cliche for my liking. i generally strive to be more original than this, but perhaps a love poem necessitates the slightly cliche. maybe i should just cut out the middle portion?
|11-27-2012, 09:17 PM||#7|
Preserving the name...
Join Date: Feb 2004
Location: Stoking your fire...
Dylan, this worked on so many levels, enjoyed it, a lot. Keep it up bro.
Looks like I'm nesting.
Filth, pure filth... That's what you are.