His tongue, a sharpened cavalcade of knives,
Does cut aptly excising hurt from trust,
Asphyxiating doubt the soul does thrive,
And in his madness wounds heal o’er with lust.
Experimental words soothe savaged pasts,
Forsaken histories of sacred vows,
A wonderment I yearn for, one that lasts,
From him whose passions fervently arouse.
Across stretches of highways reach his words
To tease and tempt coaxing my mind to fly
Back to his facile wit as a blackbird
Which he then plucks from out the moonlit skies.
Throughout my flight I never cease to sing
In spite of struggling with broken wing.
Though innocence doth flee in face of war,
Replaced with worn and battered hearts that must
Return to lives reclaiming their pourboire,
Newlywed hands search to establish trust.
Soft murmurs warmly breathe in hair and breast,
Deft hands caress her ribs, her back, her thighs
While eyes imbibe their secrets to divest:
Wartime transgressions or chimeric lies?
Against the fields they lay down arms, enmeshed
And bare their bodies to a pleasured deed
To recreate themselves in bone and flesh
And tightly bind their future through their need.
Yet Time against them reaches out to steal
Desires of unity; their fate’s unsealed.
Two kings do battle on the chessboard where
The fair one steels to calm his heart that beats
From fevered passion. For without the leash
He forged in military drill, he’d swear
Aloud, enfolding his love’s height and breadth,
Then combing fingers gently through red waves
And rubbing lips across a jaw unshaved,
And running hands down skin into moist cleft.
When “Checkmate” rents his vision and eyes lift,
He drinks in waters bluer than the sea,
His thirst ne’er quenched, his prick swollen with need.
With passion soul and body he would gift;
For prisoner’s soul and body he’s no key,
So scanning battlefield he quips, “Indeed.”
words by Dàrsaidh, picture by Foxy@_CurlyMe
Her corded harp
With missing strings
Plays music soft
To which she sings
At fleeting wings.
O’er head they sigh
Raining down rings
To which she clings
Babes in the winds.
Their day will rise
With music bright
Laughing their tunes
Within her sight
She’ll join their song
apricity: the sun’s warmth on a cold winter’s day
My present abhors my past
Sending my future into the abyss
Before it breathes.
She skimmed a stone across the dancin’ light
O’er yonder round a bend in th’ bayou’s night
And tip-toed back, face flushed, a dirty sprite.
When y’all looked up and saw her mud-stained clothes
All hell broke loose. And when she wiped her nose
On Daddy’s linen handkerchief y’all froze
Like gators lyin’ in wait to tear her ‘part.
‘Twere grandma who exclaimed, “Well, bless her heart,
she’ll be a picture perfect debutante
‘A once we scrub the tomboy from her dress.”
But ain’t the soap that made her luminesce,
‘Nor Mama’s drills in southern politesse.
But secrets down ‘n the holler of her soul
Whispr’ing the truth of her life to unfold.
Ethereal the raven’s shadow slides
Across the ice – tracing a hollow scar
That mars his bruised and swollen heart. Then far
From ties along the tow’ring wall he cries.
Releasing misery from cause unjust,
A warmth invades within melting his snow-
Clad mien. A respite rents the armor now
As foe become his brothers sworn in trust.
With word and sword his oath he gives til death
To don the blackened embers of the knight.
In agony his loyalties divide
When he learns his paternal shibboleth
Is slaughtered. His ensuing revenge flight
Turns back to winter’s coming unified.
Under my bed rest sepulchres of love
Tucked tautly in grayed ribbons. In malaise
I forfeit restraint dragging coffins of
Remembered sentiments writ as ballets.
For coryphée you were in life to me
As we performed a haunting pas-de-deux.
Your hands I still feel lift me steadily
Despite the distance wrought between us two.
For Clotho spun your thread to touch my heart;
Lachesis measured out its length too brief,
And Atropos who in her bitter art
Excised you from my heart which bleeds in grief.
But as I turn my eyes from tear-stained page
The mirror announces death from this stage.