Something a Bit Tender

I am not much of a love poet. But, I am glad to say that my depressive poetry days are long gone with the whisper memory of high school. To this I say, thank goodness! Who needs puberty and all those rash emotions anyway? You think high school is boss and the bomb and whatever newfangled term you want to throw with it. It isn't. You get out of high school and you realize that there is a whole world of people to meet and learn from. There is a whole world that has been shifting, changing, and rampaging without you. Now you have to find a way to fit in and yet stand out at the same time. Sometimes we find that in a lover or a friend or maybe it is by ourselves we find our place in the world.

I am glad to know what I know and I am even more excited to learn what I am going to learn. Days are made of moments, and moments are just memories to have and lessons to learn.

I say this with confidence, seize the day!

Now, for you: A poem.


Art

My veins are pumping dependency.
My fingers are clawing at your shoulder.
The body becomes a maze of action.
Motions are lost in sound.
We are but solitary beings.
We follow nature to come together.
Worlds shrink in minutes.
Sweat builds in seconds.

Your hips are metered rhythm,
Your skin is a description.
Elegantly you are formed,
Legs around my body
And head relying on my shoulder.
Your eyes are ideas of
Severe punctuation
Conjoined by our lips.

Our sweat is paint,
Dripping and splattering
With wild abandon.
This world is our blank canvas.
We’ll wrestle in the stars
And swim in the sun.
Sketch our dreams
And smear our desires.

Moan me a song,
Whisper me the lyrics.
Keep the rhythm with your hands,
And exaggerate the bass.
Shut your eyes and feel the tune,
Dance to the rhythm.
We’ll be the artists,
Passion our creation.