deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Plume Of She
there was no
foreseeable poem on my horizon
until she strutted by
epitomizing sheer poetry in slowed-motion
kaleidoscopic...damn i couldn't stop it
got me stuck between the realm of boys to men
brought back a remembered joy to pen
waxing rhapsodic...I got it bad
watching her move from a figment
to the firmament of my swooning imagination
cascading down in a technicolor gown
brown skin crowned by a natural grown afro
smearing pastels and oil paints
engaging...engorging this saint-slash-sinner
feeding my sentimental..my spiritual
my sapiosexual..got my artistry on hyper drive
warp factor nine...she's so damn fine
deep diving in divine intuition
thickening dimensions..strecthing khakis
she makes wanna spell my name in elaborate cursive
Sanskrit her inner realm from right to left
gift her my primary colors
blend and stir them as she sees fit
within her tight fit...giving me sublime exposure
and closure within her melodic moisture
her palette..swirling my aftermath...her magical into
an exaltation of a multi-hued us
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