An english
professor is of the opinion,
An oxymoron
best communicates loves icy-fire,
But your
eyes deny words and define this condition.
They
engrave my heart deeply. I know
he's a liar.
Lips speak
well closed mouthed, when words only fumble.
Hips sway
gentle rhythms more subtle than alliteration.
Masterful
metaphors make meaningless mumbles.
To desires
meaning the sonnet is hardly amelioration
How is it
that your hair flows more freely than print,
Your neck
more graceful, your teeth more biting?
Watery
words won't stick to waxy places they're sent,
But here I
continue, persevering, still writing.
No literature can hint at the breathtaking ecstasy,
When being compared to your body's warmth next to me.
From your
wavy locks to your wrinkly toes,
I swallow
up your body whole. My eye
Through the
hills and curves of happy trails flows.
Your sexy
curves cause a natural high.
You're
petite frame, a sensual delight,
A careful
sculpture of most perfect art.
In all the universe
nothing's so right,
As the
repetitive rising of your heart.
I love you
too much, fore I know your mind.
Translucent
halls lacking restraining walls.
Outwardly
breathtaking, inwardly in kind,
Enamored
soul, head over heals falls.
Thought and appearance combine well so rare.
These two (in you) are a puzzling pair.
Is Passion
so hard to explain with words?
Poets may
speak so gracefully, but
I lack the
sweet sounds of sweet songbirds.
I repeat
grounded verse while poets fly.
I dry with
thirst for which I can't provide.
There lies
exposed oasis blue. A well
that I
can't touch. Alights a bird beside
my well to
bathe his tongue refresh his quill.
What type
of bird is this that enters my mind
To draw
forth dreams well rounded and alive?!
However
when inside I turn there find
Nothing in
that unhoneyed multi-chambered hive.
To thee poets I can't withhold most praise
My poems wander, my verse a maze.
Love's
first year empties my frame of breath.
Salty waters
and smooth kisses first meet,
under a
setting sun near swelling crest.
Alone
together, a contradiction sweet.
The
following year we were bestest
friends.
Whole in
one soul. Inseparable.
But
togetherness had premature end.
Far flung
schools made me too miserable.
Now three
years have past, and I hope you'll sing,
"looks
like we made it...we knew we'd get there some day."
Always
looking forward to the phone's next ring,
but also
looking back into warm memory.
Three
years gone and only two more to go,
If
only they wouldn't move so damned slow.
My aching
heart refuses heartfelt pleas,
So to you I
turn, the relief and source
Of all my
hurt. Oh could you tell me please,
Why
pleasure and pain follow one same course?
I am a
beast burdened, and still master.
Unhappiness
rides me, yet I choose it,
I'm caught
between rock and alabaster.
I chose the
weakness, I can't refuse it.
Sandra why
do you relieve me only,
In my
dreams? See you my desirous flame?
But we must
be, deserted and lonely.
Here
between us are invisible chains.
With
my heart so distant, it's no surprise
I
write badly. Feelings don't
compromise.
Sonnet
#6
Salt soaked
streams roll down my sunburned face,
Sparking
recollections, solidifying liquid thought.
Sunshine
arrives and melts the fragile lace,
Evaporating
all agony against which I fought.
Why does
the proof of hearts discontent,
Nourish the
desire and skills of literacy?
When the
satisfied flame of love disallows comment?
Drying my
tongue, satiation stops all but gravity.
Stinging
chilled droplets left when my sun arose;
language
died with cloud's dispersion.
Ensconced
in the heat, carried by loves single dose,
No shelter need
be sought in word's immersion.
Unbridled sorrow is fertile ground for poetry,
But if there be a choice I would never sow a tree.