Poetry on a Monday

Been holding this one for a couple of weeks...the mindset is right, though.



I’ve never tasted a caramel
In the midmorning sun,
Whose cool embers
Give way to waves of warm butter
Poured over lips,
Adorn milky velvet,
Savored,
Indulged,
Melts into a rich mirth of nectar.

Sating flavors linger heavy on the tongue,
Promise more than the day can hold.

Poetry in the raw.

That's right...two Wednesdays in a row! Let's hear it for lit night! Let's try a bit of applied haiku tonight. This one is written today, published tonight. How's that for efficiency?




Slow burn. With a taste,
Beaujolais glares trickle from
Dark fermentation

In thirsty vineyards,
Carefully hidden, tended
To lush excesses.

Your riddle entwined,
Veiled in the blithe tannins of
A transient smile

Awash amongst the
Steep nose, frail legs of the glass
Of Dionysus.

At long last...

It is Wednesday and, as promised, I strive to bring you new literature. I have a poetry project that I originally wrote a bit ago and have been editing down a bit. Alas, I'm running into trouble with blogger allowing me to present this piece in it's original formatting. Fonts and the like I can edure changes on, but word spacing is an essential element of this piece. So, until I can figure out a way to rectify this problem, I'll bring you some past work I haven't broken out in a while...

If I played piano

Would you climb upon the frame?

In this musky otherworld
Could you bring to us a beam?

Of hope?

Of faded sunshine

Kept inside your pocket for a darker day?

Do not be afraid to toss your hair

Your dress

Your indiscretions about the glowing air.

Open your soul

And give shelter to prying minds,

A place to rest our weary hearts.

At what point do you cease to play this game,

Look upon the lost faces,

The vague eyes,

Admit defeat,
And call it a day?
Or does she seek to write her own rules?

And If I should play through the night

And if the first stripes of dawn should fall

Upon your shoulders with your tresses.
Would you still be swaying with the riffs,
Or beside me giggling?
Perchance to be riding the waves of my mind
Over a sweet chardonnay at the bar

And talking of the day yet to come.