Pastorale, François Boucher, 1761

 

Smiling Inside

We talk

Not often, nor enough

But the moment I hear you

My body responds as if cold water has trickled down my back; I shiver

Tiny threads of excitement spread across my skin, prickling

Does breath suspend?

For mine does in that moment…that moment of recognition that it is you

Your voice humming my soul

sharing your thoughts, your day

sharing a piece of you, with me.

Lucky am I,

the girl with no entitlement, no claim

to bask…no, revel in your being,

your attention to just me

talking…just talking

Little do you know,

the kindness you give,

the pure joy that lights me up inside

and I am happy

.

 

(Helga by Andrew Wyeth)  Flickr/Gandalf’s Gallery

My Muse

You don’t know I look at you

…the way I do

In wonderment; in yearning

Those eyes, dark and hidden

Depths so deep, I cannot find my way

My way to you

Closeted, kept under key

Safe from temptation, keeping all others out

Keeping me out

It does not stop me

From gazing upon your face

Taking in the light of God, it seems

“How can one be so perfected in such an imperfect world?” I wonder.

“I am not perfect…far from perfect,” You lament

I do not question the beating of my heart,  the weakening of my knees, or the illusory of my thoughts

I never knew there was such things…until you

Don’t berate me for longing, perfecting you with the paint fresh upon my canvas

Many things you have inspired

Immortal shall I make you

Unattainable by all; unattainable by me

You are all the person I have come to know, the lover I yearn for, the friend I need

Not just of lust, or the forbidden, but of the veiled attachment

Uniting the separated; completing the unfinished

Inspiring the creativity that resides in the essence of my being

The place where my soul resides

And where my love is imprisoned

Forever condemned to my musings

Released, bleeding ink upon parchment

(The Stare, Louis-Jean-François Lagrenée 1770)

 

The Stare

Everything…

Your hands

Your face

Your essence

I inhale you

I fall into your being

…I love

 

(Dante & Beatrice, John William Waterhouse, 1915)

 

Recognition

We know from a glance

Our eyes light up

A flash of memory passes

The feeling that has no physicality

But for that which stirs something inside

A knowing…

One cannot explain this, nor reason

 It is there, unspoken

You are eternal to me

The light of my being

The beacon to the heavens

And there is no way to shield myself from love

 

(The Weeping Woman, Picasso, 1937)

 

Sexual Encounter

The light came through the windows

The shadows of my body exposed

The female form all there to entice you

The curves of my waist

The roundness of my breasts

You calculated your approach

Declaring your need

Grabbing at your possession

Pushing your wanting

Your empty kisses invading my neck

Pressing your desires upon me

 

You wanted my lips

I turned my cheek

You grabbed my hand

I pulled it away

You asked me to look

I turned my eyes

“I disgust you,” you declared

No, I am disgusted with how you treat me!

I bruised your ego

You have battered my spirit

You will forget

I never will

 

 

(Interior, Edgar Degas, 1868-1869)

Forgotten Woman

Laying next to him

Wanting him to reach out

A touch is all she is seeking

No enrapture expected

Not Anymore

A mere necessity she has become

A fulfillment of duty

His possession of title

Ownership of her being

To grab and poke

As if the person inside was of no consequence

And yet she still comes to him

Seeking a connection to her being

A recognition of her worthiness

When will she learn

Surrounded only by the cold arms of the dark

She is but a comfort now

An image of the expected

Her desires inconsequential

Laying next to him

Wanting him to reach out

A touch is all she is seeking

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(John Brett, 1864)

Morning Greeting

Morning Light

Breath of life

Gurgle morning coffee

Coo in greeting

O, dove of mine

The spirit of  divine

Sing to me little birds

Quiet is my soul

Fill me up

My spirit’s need

And remind me of your glory

Her eyes glance down

Discerning with one look

Unabashed by judgment

Supple in texture

Sensuality of lines

Stitching of refinement

A glimpse of the man

She is not disappointed

 

(This poem was for my friend Julie! I hope this made you smile.)

Letting You Go

I am afraid…

Afraid to let you go

Afraid to wander this soulless world without you

Heavy is my heart with the burden of the emptiness

I have known loss

It has hardened me to endure what is to come

Fear should not constrain me

Sadness merely a state of mind

I should not fight what destiny commands

But why does it pull heavily against my chest, the aching so real?

I want to cry, plead with the universe to change its mind

To allow what I yearn for…

A fictitious entity you have been; a mere illusion of my heart’s desire

It never has been

And never will be

I hate truth, in all her virtue!

I have lived blissful in my denial

I have lived in hope

But I am too old to have dreams so reckless

And you are too oblivious of my love for you

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Touch

Soft strokes feather against the canvass of your desires

Following the curves of my body, your hands covet my nakedness

Swaying and caressing, exploring my feminine form

Your heated touch lingers as it slips across the silken cloth of my soul

I cannot conceal the tremors that erupt, the prickled bumps a witness to your effect

Or the warming that travels from the tips of my breast to the base of my spine, as your mouth consumes me

Relentless in its pursuit, your breath whispers the need to possess me

My body screams to be taken;  guttural moans murmur the invitation

My will weakens, and I succumb to your touch