My heart cries for you,
hours pass and I‘m alone,
recalling how our lips touched,
how each kiss moistened the others lips,
now my hands are idle from you.
I am lost during this night's loneliness,
in these surroundings I call my house.
How empty it is, when we
are not together
lost tonight,
alone in
the dark.
@ @
******* @ *******
A night with Pablo
When ever I think about loving her or how I ache for her in my life I turn towards familiar words, writes of others who seem to have been there before me.
We all ache when love is lost, and we should.
from Neruda on this lonely night ~
“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way.”
******* @ *******
Oh the drama of it all!
As Billy once said ""Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under 't.". And no truer could it be if not here.
what is the sense of the trouble that is caused?
"So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt."
(now just so some know that this thought be it mine was not complete without the assistance of William Shakespeare.)
Shall I feel the wrath?
******* @ *******
Gelato
Io ho auguri non detto e non
desidero ancora noto,
ma assaggiando ghiaccio
al gusto di da bacio Suo,
riempì molte dozzine di quegli
auguri e mi presento ancora
a piu inadempiuto.
@
Mai solamente uno.
I have wishes untold
and wishes not known,
but tasting flavored ice
from your kiss, filled many
dozens of those wishes
and introduced me to
more yet unfulfilled.
© Oisin
******* @ *******
Her Lace
How I gazed upon her intricacy
I held her against the light
and marveled at the beauty
that came with this early morning.
For she loved this flower
above all others
but now would I dare
to gather even one
bouquet.
© Oisin
****** @ ******
IN HALF SLEEP
My arm laid outward stretched
looking for you somewhere lost
inside the wrinkles of the bed linen.
Somewhere within the morning's night
I could hear your gentle breathing,
my hand searching from inside half sleep
for your softness and that dance you
do when I caress your warm skin.
My arm laid outward stretched
looking for you somewhere,
perhaps it is I, who am lost
inside the breeze that whispers
good morning
© Oisin
********** **********
This kiss and you
I wait for the moment that I
can touch my lips against
your soft white milk skin.
I close my eyes and remember
each of the kisses that we shared.
I can not resist this hunger that
brings me to you over and over again,
for it controls me more then I control myself.
I have found myself again between this
kiss and you.
With each gentle wash from my kiss
I expose my temptation to you.
Each kiss is offered up to you with
my soul and my heart and my love.
I propose this pleasure to myself as if
I am offering myself communion.
I submit myself up to you and
you will have the power over
me for I am yours,
both before and after
each of these kisses.
@ @
© Oisin
********** **********
Four
Leaning up against the wall
dressing in the half-light
I couldn’t let you pass by
without one final smile.
So it was
I tiredly undressed again
and ate your eyes
and your eyes only
for breakfast.
Rod McKuen
Just a simple thought about empty Sunday mornings.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The tourist
Stand before me,
as a white pillar aloft.
I bow and kneel in front of
you, as if at some strange alter.
Out stretch your arms and
extend them towards
the nights spaces.
Let me explore this nakedness
you’ve placed in front of me.
My hands are there to touch you,
like I would touch the walls
if I explored a dark hallway.
My hands touching side to side
feeling their way along.
Grant access to my hands, to explore
this silhouette, like a man
who has been starved from sight.
Give to me, let my mouth taste the
softness that is the
facet of your body.
Let my fingers walk the path
your stomach offers me.
Grant me permission to feel
your flesh against my lips.
Let me find comfort from
your thighs, from your hips.
Let my head lay against
you as a support for my weaknesses.
Hear my words as I speak
to you as a tourist in a strange
and new land.
Let me exhaust myself once more
upon your gifts.
Then let me into your thoughts.
© Oisin
****************************
Saturday but once
I forgot the taste
of your skin, but
then Friday only
comes once a week.
I remembered wanting you,
but that was on Sunday
and tonight,
I am alone.
© Oisin
********************************
Adage
I taste the salty beads that
dance over your breasts when
you rise and arch between my kisses,
they fall like a ballet that was
choreographed for my eyes and my temptation.
Be it by intent or by fate,
I have become the captive
audience of your nakedness,
a witness of the stage I know
only as your milk white skin.
© Oisin
*****************************
Dun
Where your body closes into me
mine will arch to taste your swell.
Whenever our bodies ache for the other,
it will be together that we will share
the movement of desert sands.
We will bathe in the wash of a thousand winds
and be cleansed by the casualness of attrition.
You will feel me from under the parched sun
and I will embrace your umber flesh.
We will be joined in the ballet of Sedona sands
until the night sky shadows our love making.
© Oisin
********************************
* Unless identified, all poems shared on this site are owned and protected by writer. © Oisin
