- Erotic Poetry
- I Am Dressed Chill
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Click hereI am dressed chill in leaves on rill of bone
cold night spread against our rise. In the gleam
of moon I am your harvest, warming stone
in winter, shielding shivers in a dream
of starry skin underneath the season
of our discontent. Fronds dip. The tropics
yield in ocean me. There is no reason,
no logic nor wanting talk, for topics
fail to speak in the slurp of murmur. Care
ceases in the hiss, in the wind of breath
knit into the grass rustle and the air,
look you, awakens in the little death
of autumn, clear as eyes, as the pale kiss
of fragile blood frozen still after bliss.
- COMMENTS
I liked the way the rhyming words at the ends of each line fell in the middle of the sentences or clauses. That was very creative and not easy to accomplish. This poem was done well and I enjoyed it very much.
in everything you say and do. Your poetry never ceases to amaze me, to enthrall me, to take me places I never thought a poem could take me. Beautiful work, S.
~ NJ
I love the image "slurp of murmur". I did stop at "season of discontent", and furrowed my brow... but quickly moved on when I chalked it up as homage to Shakespeare's winter.
Soft and quiet. A very good sonnet. Just once I want to hear you talk very dirty though.:)