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deepundergroundpoetry.com
nomad like the wind
all the things that can be said of love have been said.
we know it to be a song without poetry,
music without instruments.
I stay up late at night studying the old runes on her belly to
search out her mournful history; wondering what they mean
& who put them there.
I crawl into her bed on these straw nights ‘cause I don’t want to
sleep alone. she moans in the grip of whatever dream she’s
having & insinuates her nude body close to me, a wall of flesh to
weld herself to so she won’t disappear in the cool dark. her skin is
August & marshland, arousing my wolfen crave, but I don’t want to
rape her in slumber, so I lay there with my hand on her ass & a
hard, unvagina’d cock.
she knows I’ve had a den of lovers, they left me or I left them. she
reveals her deep secrets to me, her private diary of kink, & I steal
her fresh words & use them in my sordid tales.
when she is lost in romance, she tells me we are parts of the wind,
cast about like fallen feathers; we are tangled in the chords of the
rain, wild & wet & fornicating our storms.
she has the desires of a woman, she constantly reaches for the
golden apples that are forbidden to her. my heart is merely a
desolate pomegranate, but she has already decided in her mind &
heart that I love her.
I give her as much of myself as I can bear to give,
yet it’s a meager dowry –
because a man can never give a woman enough…
Published 28th Aug 2016
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likes 11
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I give her as much of myself as I can bear to give,
yet it’s a meager dowry –
because a man can never give a woman enough…
A beautiful,meloncholy masterpiece
Amazing,John
Bold choice of artwork,loved it
yet it’s a meager dowry –
because a man can never give a woman enough…
A beautiful,meloncholy masterpiece
Amazing,John
Bold choice of artwork,loved it
28th Aug 2016 10:12am
Ahhh, JohnFeddeler ~
This poem is fascinating, luv. I find myself reading it over and over.
Your use of mythology here is haunting and tantalizing to me in the extreme for it seems to me you play in several pantheons and with multiple myths simultaneously, which is intriguing.
This play adds such significant teasing depths here, shifting meaning about, back and forth like hidden currents in a crystalline sea.
I think, mayhap, you give more than you realize, oh pomegranate one, and methinks this
because a man can never give a woman enough…
says more about you and your thoughts (what you wish to give ~ what you think you should give?) than it does about what a woman wants or needs you to give, luv... :-*
This poem is fascinating, luv. I find myself reading it over and over.
Your use of mythology here is haunting and tantalizing to me in the extreme for it seems to me you play in several pantheons and with multiple myths simultaneously, which is intriguing.
This play adds such significant teasing depths here, shifting meaning about, back and forth like hidden currents in a crystalline sea.
I think, mayhap, you give more than you realize, oh pomegranate one, and methinks this
because a man can never give a woman enough…
says more about you and your thoughts (what you wish to give ~ what you think you should give?) than it does about what a woman wants or needs you to give, luv... :-*
28th Aug 2016 10:50am
"she has the desires of a woman, she constantly reaches for the
golden apples that are forbidden to her. my heart is merely a
desolate pomegranate, but she has already decided in her mind &
heart that I love her."
John I agree with Savaja you give so much of yourself to us I think you give more than you think..
love the passionate layers of this write..
I always find myself lost in your ink wishing for a moment I was that woman..
getting whatever you were willing to give..
love Crim
golden apples that are forbidden to her. my heart is merely a
desolate pomegranate, but she has already decided in her mind &
heart that I love her."
John I agree with Savaja you give so much of yourself to us I think you give more than you think..
love the passionate layers of this write..
I always find myself lost in your ink wishing for a moment I was that woman..
getting whatever you were willing to give..
love Crim
Anonymous
28th Aug 2016 11:00am
<< post removed >>
28th Aug 2016 2:03pm
It's not how much is 'given that matters to women; it's the effort and attempt to empty all you have into their heart. A woman doesn't desire to be a favorite; she desires to be the one that he attempts to empty for.
Heartfelt tale, John.
Heartfelt tale, John.
Anonymous
31st Aug 2016 10:52am
<< post removed >>
