Seizuring so as if escaping from fright
You awoke suddenly near about midnight
Then rolled over meeting my body halfway
By instinct, drew nearer and kissed me straight away.
Your cheek, always soft, nestled against mine.
Your muscular hand came to rest upon my thigh.
In my ear, your breath came like wind rushing.
By the touch of your tepid skin, I sensed flushing.
My eyes perused you in the moonlight
Convincing me for a moment that all was right.
You fell again to sleep peacefully it seemed
Perhaps to dream that time a pleasant dream.
A DREAM is a butterfly
Fresh from the cocoon
That is realized and soon
Flutters up into the sky
Or faltering, goes astray
Is suddenly killed
While young still
And fast fades away.
PINK is the morning sun ablaze.
Gray is the balmy air.
Purple is the city's haze.
Brown is the wren's bleary stare.
White is the glistening dew.
Night – adieu!
MANY a door, many a door
Along the complex's corridor –
A symbol meant to welcome –
That's what they're for.
Rows of doors, floor upon floor –
Sometimes a thief they lure.
Nobody asks how you've been –
They just close their door.
Envious of the Clouds is my first book and although I didn't intend to publish it, I decided around poem #30 that I would go for it. I revised a handful of poems from my teenage years and then wrote a lot of new ones. When I created 101 poems, I hit the publish button!
Here are my seller's pages:
From a 5-Star review on Amazon (by Nathan Kross):
"The poems are mostly rhyming, and only occasionally metered; and the book is full of half-rhyme, which results in some very interesting effects. For instance, many of the poems require careful study to see if they are even rhyming at all!
The result, if you simply read through smoothly, is that the words sit in your consciousness like musical notes on a score, occasionally reinforcing each other, occasionally not, but all working together with a sort of mystical quality...
...This book is technically adept, and full of a wonderful kindness, patience, and wonder."
RABAT is a black pearl
Of cellophanic rainbow
Gazing upon waves that curl
And lick a shore little known.
Gibraltar is the dock
Where it stedfast moors -
Enjoying sailboats that flock
The Mediterranean course
Yet Barbary lions live
Not far, in the Rif Mountains -
Golden, assertive -
Their kasbah amid the grass.
HIDING in an empty room
To have a minute with myself –
I sat on a plush chair
And sank about as low as I felt.
Heaving, I lied, saying
In my head – All is well.
Ticklish electricity then
Stirred the surrounding air.
Slowly, I felt the sensation
As of a fly entangled in my hair
Except two little tugs followed.
I turned – alas – nobody there!