Dionysus Rising

Whisper, Sweet Muse, Your Song into My Soul
They tell me those halcyon days are gone,
that muses are but childish tales from long
ago centuries. They say that, along
with all the myths, the gods are dead, have gone
to give rise to science . . . They say no one
is home in the heavens, that we belong
in Nature [...]

Temptress

Meditation on Her Bust
Raised a Southern gentleman, I’m obliged
somewhat to euphemize these sentiments,
oh alabaster goddess. Rudiments
and archetypes of Love coil, and are pledged,
in those ivory hills (it might be alleged
yet that I am a scoundrel), torrents
of allure grace soft lips, curving laments
from mothers lost to sons astray and hedged
all ‘round with Biblical pitfalls, and yet
we [...]

Love Myth

Another Myth of Love
Desire is love’s seed, they said, but I knew
better even as I planted deep my
seed. Their infertile hearts desired lust’s cry
of carnal longing, and nothing more. Few
have learned as we have learned, love, and lust, too,
are but fires within our hearts and selves. Try
as we might, they smolder and never die
while we [...]

Monday Mantra for National Poetry Month

beauty surrounds and inundates everything;
our blindness to it is the only true tragedy
Beauty surrounds and inundates all
today my eyes are open to this
today my heart is open to this
now my spirit soars in beauty!
[This came from a reply to a comment on my blog; it seemed appropriate for a mantra and a short poem in [...]

Time to Grow

Time to Grow Up
Well, I guess it’s time
to get up off my proverbial haunches
roll up my sleeves
and decide who I am
 
Can’t wait
forever
for someone else
to come along
and remind me
who I was
before
or before that
or even yesterday
 
Now
time
to buck up
step out
step up
and make
something
of my life . . .
 

David M Pitchford
18 April 2008

Wendy’s Confession of Cupid and Peter

 
The Night I Died in a Young Man’s Fancy
He used to come to me nights. Cupid, I mean,
and he liked to rub oils into my skin
while singing songs beyond words. Oh, his thin
voice was a tonic, his body against me lean
firm as youth has hours to maintain. He’d preen
for hours, watching me watch him. It [...]

Orchard Sutra (rev)

 
Orchard Sutra
Beneath this silver moon we mingle breath and sing
our blood awake. How firm your grasp
of romance in orchards of love, lust, and bright longing
kisses flicker on tongues tasting, testing, merging
in consolation’s search—soft rasp
beneath this silver moon. We mingle breath and sing
songs written in heartbeats and hormones pulsing
through the longing lust, panting clasp
of romance in [...]