Shiver,
And my fists tighten.
Whisper,
And his grip strengthens.
Music,
My moans to his ears.
Playing,
His love with my fears.
Touch,
He withdraws and I crave.
Coy,
To his love, an eager
slave.
Closer,
His breath, his sly grin.
Heat,
His skin on my skin.
Persistent,
His burning gaze.
Abashed,
Tender body, vulnerable
face.
Deep,
In passion we fall.
Bliss,
Two bodies, one soul.
 |
| Afremov, on my blog after long. His colors lend the best effect to my words, I feel. |
Note - This poem has earlier been published in The Viewspaper, as an entry to Ode to Keats campaign.
For one, Afremov is one of my favourite painters. And two, I loved this poem. Beautiful, sensual, fast paced, conveying the emotion in not too complex words. Keep it up!
ReplyDeleteThank you! Afremov is a favorite for many of us! And somehow, when I put his paintings us here, the whole feel of reading becomes better. Isn't it?
DeleteBrilliant. It flows quickly, and in rhythm. Agree with Enigmatic Soul.. successful in conveing the emotion without complexity. The ending especially.. two bodies, one soul. Really well done.
ReplyDeleteIn two lines, you almost gave me a critical analysis of my poem. Thank you for that. I am not much of a poet, but comments such as these always encourage me to write better.
DeleteDon't know if there is anything such as "much of a poet" :) but it's always good to write. What you wrote didn't need a painting, because the words do it in itself. The fists tightening, the sly grin, the "moaning" music and all the details.. so yes, do keep writing such gems.
DeleteEr, yes. Very few readers leave a reply on a reply. So refreshing! You redid the visual and audio imagery in the poem. Nice!
DeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteImmensely sensual, quickens the pulse.... beautiful use of the painting too...
ReplyDeleteAah, thank you!
DeleteIf it quickens your pulse, it achieves its end :)
here saumya here i want to share here something useful & motivational stuff i am certain that youwill like it...
ReplyDelete“Writing is something that you don't know how to do. You sit down and it's something that happens, or it may not happen. So, how can you teach anybody how to write? It's beyond me, because you yourself don't even know if you're going to be able to. I'm always worried, well, you know, every time I go upstairs with my wine bottle. Sometimes I'll sit at that typewriter for fifteen minutes, you know. I don't go up there to write. The typewriter's up there. If it doesn't start moving, I say, well this could be the night that I hit the dust.”
― Charles Bukowski hope you will like this...!!
Thanks a lot for sharing this with me. Keep commenting!
DeleteSuper!! :-)
ReplyDeleteThanks bhaiya!
DeleteLong, long time!