Showers
After Spring Showers
Her beauty is the sky of my world, her flesh
my earth, her blood the rivers and ocean,
her eyes peridots faceted and star-brilliant,
her bones and hair are every forest and brush;
I fall to worship as drops roll down those hills
toward southern climbs, where the triangle
of her altar to femininity calls me to worship
and I speak in tongues to her murmurs,
low growls of pleasure and appreciation—
prelude to my entering the shrine of small
deaths for the sweet communion Nature
first decreed in the throes of First Passion.
David M Pitchford
2 May 2008
Filed under: Xenoneoclassicist Poetry, creative souls, ekphrasis, nude, nudity, obsessions, poem, poems, poems about paintings, poetry, poetry revolution, sex | Tagged: degas, poem, poem on Degas, poems about paintings
Stepping into the Bath
When stormy brews in the blue of his eyes
I hear thunder roll through my body and know
rain and lightning approach to bathe me;
ecstasy in my forecast as the clouds build high
along the western edges of my awareness.
My body dampens with the droplets, dew
moist and warm as one front meets the other.
I toss my head back, and so exposed,
offer myself up, no sacrifice, to pleasure.
His tempest cleanses my soul, immersed
in his desire, I am purified from the inside – out.
Generations are born in this passion’s maelstrom.
Siobhan
5/3/08
prelude to my entering the altar of small deaths.
Just beautiful!