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Portrait of Love on a Dove’s Tail

 

Pale, the circumstance cowers in the unperformed –

tasting, without pretence, nor confirmation,

whispering greatly,

opal veils of smoke –

tides, sweet, a constant

pain.

 

A pearl forms, a melting star  -

of curving universe locks,

 

born on the ever looping sail –

never held,  a well climb

or a fall –

the wounded cry given to the cliffs.

 

Therein swells a pebble cooing

in the ripples of

an iris,

wet with heaven

 

and swift with hurt - thunder

strip of feathers here,

you cover me, you cover me,

 

the nothing death, forever rocking -

 a wail wintered on the sea.

 

Stroke, part –

starve once more,

too much unkissed  -

 

her wounds, your fingers,

soft and white

repent.

 

 

 

 

 

◄ A Suggestion of Defence

Enter Violet ►

Comments

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Noetic-fret!

Thu 29th Mar 2012 18:52

Nice one Marianne, you truly are gifted.

Mike

x

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Marianne Louise Daniels

Wed 28th Mar 2012 15:05

Thanks guys.

I am snowed under with work this week Winston but going to be doing Stirred next monday if you are around? Have a good 'un tonight - I'll be thinking of thee. x

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winston plowes

Wed 28th Mar 2012 14:56

Couldn't agree more with Laura, Reading at Bad language in Manc tonight (John will be there too). win x

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Laura Taylor

Wed 28th Mar 2012 14:32

Absolutely lush from start to finish!

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