poetry; love in thunderstorms

[cridecoeur]

So, while I was in the hospital I kind of took up poetry writing as one of the few things I could do that was not reading or going to trauma classes. I have several of them. I am going to post them in a hopefully not aggravating way, by which I mean not all of them posted in one day. Here is one that was heavily inspired by Pablo Neruda.

I was shaking trees like storms coming close,
Slipping cloud to cloud, lips like rain,
And hair like the water below, rolling,
Lingering on rose petals, the bells of angels
Singing soft mourning over your burial grounds,
Your dead doves, your bitter heart,
Singing one clear note, a round sound,
Resonating to shatter,
The spider web of glass on your little cottage,
And the spider spinning fiber like the very
Heart-strings of God, plucking life from the air,
In the world of never-been and will-be,
One fingertip the map of stars,
And comets like the scatter of freckles on your skin.
Visit me with your matchbox eyes, your tinder-flint skin,
Enflamed by touch, raising wild fires in nuptial hours,
Burning the bed to the ground and then making love on the floor,
Skipping stone to stone the torched hours,
Until we are consumed.

Comments

[olamina]

Burning the bed to the ground and then making love on the floor

This line! I love it.

[cridecoeur]

Thank you! :D This is, I think, my favorite poem I wrote while I was in there. That line just kind of slipped itself nicely into place.