The moon and stars
Mean nothing to me.
They are, but a sailors beacon.
Wayward romantics,
And self righteous poets,
Wither in ostentatious reason.
Love is hot,
It scalds the soul.
No balm to soothe the bliss.
Sweat drenched sheets,
Loves burning coals,
A kiss that blisters the lips.
I have kissed the sun
Caressed her heat,
Smelled her heady scent.
Be gone, yee bards of night
With prose, calculated and sweet.
Your rhymes borrowed, sad and lent.
Love dwells in the light
Not in the dark,
Waning moons and midnight lust.
Give way to afternoon delights
Naked, and unafraid
Till at last with the coming dusk,
My love retires,
Spent in her love.
One last searing kiss she gives.
Succumbed to her charms,
In awe I see the heavens above,
And curse the night,
Curse that which poets believe.
The moon and stars mean nothing to me…
4 comments:
simply exquisite. Wow you are such a poet. this is a 5 star poem. one of the best i have read so far.
keep on writing and sharing
Best wishes,
Mory
Thanks so much for dropping by Mory. I truly appreciate it. Thank you for the kind comment.
Love the rhythm and base of your prose. So true the words are.
"Love dwells in the light
Not in the dark"
lavishly amazing poem.
Thanks so much for dropping by Eric. Great to see you back! Thank you for the kind comments.
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