your breath
drifts across my nostrils
soft as dandelion dreams,
floats past my ears
whispering mystic riddles,
touches my lips
with promised kisses,
lingers like laughter
o’er our tomorrow.
.
.
Pondering workshop advice from Garry Gottfriedson at Word on the Lake. “Love poems should use soft sounds,” and “never mention the word love…”
You rise from the basement
like Venus rising from the ocean,
your underwear in your hand,
modestly hiding the assets,
like Venus’s demurely draped hair.
Dripping from your outdoor exertions,
you stand on the carpet–
a modern half-shell–
and your beauty begs for
Botticelli,
but embraces me.
Lying in the afterglow
Replete with loving,
My head dances with flutes and violins.
A happy haunting
of my own song,
a lullaby of love,
a token from then,
lulling me
as I’m full to bursting
with now.
.
Submitted to week 7 Poetry Picnic http://gooseberrygoespoetic.blogspot.com/. If you are visiting from the picnic, please include a link to your own submission with any comment. Thank you!
the lawn mower roars
back and forth across our yard
to show love in action
.
.
the dishes clatter
in their cleansing bubble bath
to show love in action
.
.
Happy Anniversary.
Your eyes awaken tender dreams in me
That call across mere lifetimes to the past
Revealed as twinkling stars in skies so vast:
A universe that’s less than we can see.
Beyond the Earth the roof of Heaven glows;
Beneath the ground the molten rivers glide,
Yet in your love securely I abide.
Without you Hell is close, but Heaven knows
That love like ours parades across all time,
Encircling all who come within its arms.
No sorrow can hold long against a joy
entreating me to fill the world with rhyme.
We rise on love above all Earthly harm
For death has lost its power to destroy.
.
.
.
Persona of Ben writing about Grace again. Poor guy. He’s got it bad.
(I really do need to work on proper sonnet structure that incorporates a volta. You don’t see one in this, do you? No? I didn’t, either. Sigh.)
Shawn L. Bird 