Friday 1 October 2010

Colder

Colder

Where did you go?
while you wandered in that snow,
was it cold?
did you feel my lips, or delicate finger tips,
play upon your still frame,
in that frozen place;
Did you remember my name?
Did my soft lips embrace your warm mouth,
passionately sucking a heat between us?
Did your body, pressed down,
trapped beneath the fire and the ground,
slip in the wheels of your mind,
round, and round?
What were you thinking?
when your tiger eyes rolled in the heat,
and that porcelain skin shattered,
searing the succulence of your sizzling meat,
screaming at the church across the road,
while you came, like it mattered.
When you ran home, melting,
desperate to hold me, to feed me your fire,
to stoke the hearth of salacious desire,
did you stop even for a second,
to wonder, how do you build a snow cave?
As you wander now, in that winter wasteland,
beaten by the drifts of frozen snow,
did you ever stop to think;
You just might not know?
how to heal a broken heart,
or mend those desperate scars,
or give yourself a loving start,
from out behind those bars?
did vanity have its way with you before me?
did pride cripple your soul before i got there?
It doesn't matter,
because as you slip again beneath the icy surface,
drowning, as that ice sheet widens,
thickening above your breathless body,
it will be the cold numbing forgetfulness that takes you,
breaks you, like the little girl inside,
who drowns every time her mothers love is denied.
But I didn't forget;
These blazing hands, that fought the fire,
and wrenched the living coals from out your soul,
ripping the white hot steel of desire,
from the belly of that corpulent hole,
were forged to break that icy flow,
to reach beneath the shattered surface,
into the icy depths, where love lingers still.
To pull you screaming, like a spanking babe into life.
knowing that winter ends,
and the snow melts into spring again.

© Richard Michael Parker 2010 

Tuesday 28 September 2010

I long to read you poetry in the morning



I long to read you poetry in the morning

I long to read you poetry in the morning;
to watch you half slumbered,
eyes still seeing another world,
walking on a sun shot land,
in the dim light of another moon.
slowly awakening with a mellow breeze,
blowing away the cobwebs,
singing in the trees, of this love.
I long to read you Poetry in the morning;
An orange sun glowing in your tummy,
as my soft low voice whispers,
'remember me'!...slowly,
A smile shooting from your toes,
the smell of coffee, and musk,
all the way up to your nose,
the sweet scent of the evening's dusk,
lingering on the bedsheets still.
I long to read you poetry in the morning;
Softened joy spread across your face,
hypnotically holding you with my voice,
washing you with my words of grace,
you, moaning, like you had no choice,
spread, like the soft morning dew
on the lush grass of spring.
I long to read you poetry in the morning;
To watch the ocean in your eyes,
stir those calm waters into peeks,
as my wind, sweeps, gently across your surface,
and plunges into the depths of you.
I long to read you poetry in the morning;
and have you feel my resonating chest,
reverberate beneath the sheets,
rippling into your soft warm frame,
waves lapping against your alabaster shore,
my heart, in lilting tones, echoing your name,
the silken sands, seething with sighs, 'Je t'adore'.
I long to read you poetry in the morning;
then throw the book to the floor,
and kiss you deeply, longingly, forevermore.

© Richard Michael Parker 2010 

 
Amy Knutkowski's Artwork

Monday 27 September 2010

Daydreamer


Daydreamer

Did you wonder where we had gone?
did it cross your mind,
as you crossed the road,
buried in your feet and thoughts,
at the middle of your intersection.
'I wonder where the patter of those footsteps has gone?'
the ones that used to walk beside me,
sometimes racing ahead,
at times shadowing me,
like the back hoofs of a slow horse.
Well, We are all still here! attached;
Stopping the traffic,
removing the obstructions,
guiding folks around you as you walk,
with your head down low...
peering through the earth at the sky on the other side.
if you look up,
you just might find the same sky,
but see it from a different point of view,
and if your lucky,
and if the earth hasn't moved too much,
while you've been away,
you might just see me too.

© Richard Michael Parker 2010 



Artwork by Julie Bergmann

Sunday 26 September 2010

I will not ask you


I will not ask you

I cannot ask you to feel pain for me.
I cannot beg that you ache,
or demand that in the silence,
you burn and break.
I cannot tease that time from you,
or stir your gut like a simmering stew,
nor force you like a rusty screw,
to turn your heart inside out,
with all the fear of loss and doubt.
I will not do that to you
I will not make a martyr of a lover
or ask you to watch as I walk
or wait while I talk, with another.

When all the wasted time is totalled,
and those moments in which you came,
and went again, are remembered,
it will be the bleeding of time,
the ebb of carelessness,
that finally, washed the sands away.
The lost minutes, seconds
hours of avoidance, the silence,
that spoke loudest of all.

So I will not beg, nor wallow
or ask you to sit in this eternal sorrow.
I will not ask you to join me there,
I cannot, you see,
because I've loved you,
and I care.

© Richard Michael Parker 2010


Artwork by JoyusLion