I need poetry in my life. I need Dirk to come back East and rain words on my life. He introduced me to Pablo Neruda but took all his books when he left. My tiny library doesn't have anything by him. It is not the same to read him online. I like the feel of the paper as my fingers skim the verse.
We have lost even this twilight.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand
while the blue night dropped on the world.
I have seen from my window
the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.
Sometimes a piece of sun
burned like a coin in my hand.
I remembered you with my soul clenched
in that sadness of mine that you know.
Where were you then?
Who else was there?
Saying what?
Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly
when I am sad and feel you are far away?
The book fell that always closed at twilight
and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.
Always, always you recede through the evenings
toward the twilight erasing statues.
Something steamy:
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
http://www.fillorburst.com/mt-tb.cgi/300
Oh, Pablo Neruda is amazing. His book, '20 love poems and a song of dispair' is cherished in my collection!
Lamentably, poetry is a difficult medium for me. I enjoy reading it, finding many song lyrics to be simply poetry. But to generate it, that's another matter, and I admire those that can. Anyway, thanks for sharing. The steamy one in particular hits a chord with me tonight. I get this way once a month, and tonight was the night for me. Wanton lust and desire, I suppose. I'm nearing my two year mark of my self-imposed celibacy. And I think two years is long enough. I lust now, lust for full lips, hair in which to run my fingers, a neck and shoulders for my lips. I desire a teasing breath on the back of my neck, to have someone run their fingers through my hair... Someone to flippin' detail my car already, as the poor girl is filthy! Look out for the mood swing! Dear God. Two years too long. Time is clarity's downside.