The Passion Pot

-The Passion Pot-

This passions pot in fiery hearth,
awakens to delight,
to find the coals of loves sweet art,
ablaze within this night;
Rekindled from the ashen grave,
the phoenix rises brightly,
and soars into resplendent days,
two hearts conjoin'd sprightly;
The butterflies regale in dance,
within this womb of love,
an opiated supple trance,
descending from above;
To shower both entwin'd souls,
with blessings and with mirth,
to gambol over blue bell knolls,
in celebrated rebirth.
Sweet petalled joy of passions gift,
rejoice in loves light wings made swift.

© Richard Michael Parker 2012

Vapid Fate

-Vapid Fate-

Where did my beautiful poetess go? the shining radiance of her smile, blossoming through each line, free from the rupture and the artifice of guile, where did she go, sweet lingering tongue, the measured kiss of succulence poured from her tremulous lips onto the page like gaslight upon a stage, dancing in the revelry of her risen heart. The dawn beckoning us to raise our heads from out some twilight. Compassionate resolve transformed into a kiss...

Was it remiss to feel the tug of folding fingers, the bliss of the sweep of your delicate shoulders, blending spirits upon a delta of crushed earth. The flood, awaiting dammed behind those silting gates of sobriety, a resignation in surrender, the soulful arms, the charms, forged beyond some vapid fate...

Fear not the transference of emotion, for the ocean that swells behind those solid banks will not plunder the town, nor seep between the walls, erected to forestall all that was felt in those crushing moments of oblivion. The ocean that we are cast within...

This vessel awaits, anchored beyond these harbour gates. The swelling tide, seethes beneath its fated planks, the gusting sail, taut upon the bursting wind, awaits.

Who can forget, the kiss? The simple soulful touch of encircling fingertips, caught within the whirlpool of this bliss... In distant memory, all that you have left me, shattered in the waiting hour, darkly lit in this whorling gale of reminiscence and remiss.

© Richard Michael Parker 2012

Artwork: Jaanika Talts

Rebirth

Rebirth

Unfurling winglets,
soft and moist,
like petals born upon a budding rose,
open and close in their own time,
the rhythm and rhyme of natures subtle filigree,
caught within the wind of all that is to be.
Dry upon this summers sun,
cocooned depths, a rebirth in little steps,
delicately opening to a warmer light,
the gentle breeze of a transmogrified delight.
Slipping between the gossamer chords,
a rhapsody of transcendence,
fleeting moments of remembrance,
cast into a nimble aperture of becoming,
delicately aroused from this brief sleep,
the butterfly born from out the deep.

© Richard Michael Parker 2012



Artwork: Jaanika Talts

Fingertips

Fingertips

Harmonized fingers slip
supple thighs, yielding lips,
gasping sighs, silken hips,
inside the lovers temple.
Sweetened oils, velvet palms,
passion boils, loving arms,
the sopping licking lapping balms,
of fleshly gifts entrancement.
The ripples and the shuddering,
peeked nipples in the suckling,
the lightning and the thundering,
of an opiated dance.
The delicacy of honeyed tongues,
orgasmically each body comes,
to sweet rhapsodic heartstrings strummed,
to melt into a Sun.
I felt you come, and in the gift,
I kissed your silken fingertips.

© Richard Michael Parker 2012

Artwork: Jaanika Talts

Pensive Heart

Pensive Heart

Lost in a forest of dark pensive dreams,
wrapped up in a bubble of light,
you heal, and are free, from those corpulent schemes,
Oh dear heart, I am with you tonight.

All we once knew and all we believed,
laid waste in an instants fragility,
sensate and naked, momentarily aggrieved,
metamorphically changed by reality.

To know the first fearless steps that we took,
were copied and pasted, with the glue of this love,
from the tattered dull pages torn from out an old book,
to kick start two hearts with a push, and a shove.

The faceted face of this jewel we have cut,
will shine in our light of resplendence,
not be borrowed nor taken from doors we have shut,
but a blessing to all, through transcendence.

Yet, still the heartbeats come with sighs,
boiling in a cauldron in the silent depths of memory,
a flight of efflorescing ever dancing butterflies,
transformed into an airy flight of wings to bring you back to me.

Twin wings, marked by constancy and devotion,
this swelling tide subsides into a calm and restive place,
to rest beside each healing silent depth within this ocean,
and heal within the living loving light of constant grace.

© Richard Michael Parker 2012

Sombre Reflection

“The world is indeed full of peril and in it there are many dark places. But still there is much that is fair. And though in all lands, love is now mingled with grief, it still grows, perhaps, the greater.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien

Crazy Like A Raging Sea...

Crazy like a raging sea...

Crazy like a raging sea
that rolls in heaving peeks,
and slaps upon me endlessly
each vessel moans and creaks;
Beneath the howling tempests gale
the seething foments touch,
your fiery wind, that bursts my sail,
and luffs upon the crutch.

Full fathom five,
you pulled me from the wreck alive
and threw me on some distant shore
upon our bones we chew and gnaw.
Full fathom five,
you pulled me from the wreck alive
and all the years we cast about
were flooded tears to drown the doubt.
Full fathom five
you pulled me from the wreck alive
and here we lay betwixt the sheets
these sails full blown are now replete.
Full fathom five
you pulled me from the wreck alive
then down we two who charged the fates
will pass between the pearly gates.
Full fathom five
you pulled me from the wreck alive
I would have drowned were not for you
you would have burned, I saved you too.

This ocean we are cast within
it roars in might and thunder
emotions tumult, surging din,
we threaten to go under.
Yet soothed, climactic tempests peek
is shattered in a kiss
and calms each vessel soiled and weak
orgasmically in bliss.

I love you like a raging sea
full fathom five, for you love me.

© Richard Michael Parker 2012

Dust to Dark

-Dust to Dark-

This roaring tide of great love
the malady of sadness left inside
caught between the hawk and the dove
not knowing in which room we ought to hide.

Silence, overwhelming the moment
time dropping through an open slit
a wound, through which the memories trickle
splash the present, drip by drip,
to fall into a quiet solemnity of passing feeling,
sown together again in this dark retrieving.

The gentle choice, of each great love
the cleansing of the house, proud martin,
to know, what one must dispose of, and keep,
the beat, revivifying hearts in parting.

Making space, in the fracture of that place,
the settling of old fears, the packing of the boxes,
the tearful remnants of all those bygone years
the hounding of the foxes,
swept from off the benches and the tables
the cleansing of those Augean stables.

Hoarded clutter in those treasure chests
guarded with such firm resolve, night and day,
fiery hearts, wept within the beating breasts,
washed from off the surfaces, warily swept away.

The living remnants of all great loves
carefully honoured and wrapped,
with grace, remembrance of the gift thereof,
each diamond kissed and packed.
The curtains are drawn as the light invades,
silence from the dawn ekes between the cracks,
all is saved.

The herald of a brand new day,
is born upon a lark,
the nightingale is packed away,
its song is dust to dark.

© Richard Michael Parker 2012

Loves Torpid Touch

-Loves Torpid Touch-

Waves of love,
emanations in the air,
the flowing streams of flaxen hair,
this soak, of yellow fingered beams,
slipped into a dream,
lingers long within a kiss;
The tidal constancy of bliss,
drawn into an ebbing sea,
the languorous lethargy,
of loves torpid touch.

© Richard Michael Parker 2012

Grace

Grace 

Grace
I heard you tore another hole
and from that solemn place
bore all the fire from your immortal soul.
I thought of you,
winding through some lonesome alley way
the detritus of forlorn days blowing down the avenue,
and in my minds eye you stood alone,
blinded to all the fractured cracks you had left at home,
knowing only the footsteps,
the hearkening forward rush in your heady plunge,
driving ever onward,
too silent and reticent to turn your back,
a sponge, soaking in the light,
your constant driven hunger,
rapacious in the flight.

Grace,
I heard you call my name,
and turning but for a moment, bursting into flame,
your ruddy eyes socketed to the law,
knowing where you had been,
only God, and some trembling sear,
could ever tell of what you saw.
The precession of judgment, meant little in your eyes,
for yours was a timeless vision,
a holy spell between the cries.

Grace,
enfolding darkness,
wrapped in the light of your infinite face,
your wings wrapped in circles around my heart,
turning into flames, the coddled mendicanted chant,
of love, of forgiveness, for sins not yet spoken,
paths, where only dreams, could herald those choices never broken.

Grace,
when all the world stood in horror at what was done,
you alone stood serene, and standing on the sun,
shone a light that dulled the crackens roar,
and swept between the multitudes of fangless beasts,
and more, you took the chance,
where none before had seen the fateful tide,
and ripped the spanking babe from out the titans bloody side.

Grace,
when will we learn,
that yours is not a calculated state,
but an end at the start,
a choice beyond some forlorn fate.
You smiled, and all the rays,
and gentle love, shone through those pores,
the balm of loves deliverance,
washed upon those bloody shores.
And still, I love you still, and being still...
Love, in Grace.

© Richard Michael Parker 2012