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"Sonnets I-III" by Brenya Rose

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-I-
     Stagger and whisper, sleeping in motion
Star-gazer, flame thrower, beautiful mind
Floating adrift, enslaved to your notion
Four arms and two hearts so softly entwined
     Breathing still and growing incandescent
Sighs like fireflies floating and fleeting
Eyes so insatiably iridescent
Heavy and hypnotic rhythmic beating
     I could drown here forever in this state
Just a child, mesmerized and jaded
Lost from all thought addicted to your taste
Quickly gasping and spinning elated
     So sweetly inspired with wings and with light
     I'm just a fire waiting to ignite
 
-II-
     I am a shadow crime, swayed by your breath
An idea that could never escape you
I am a harlot at your vigil's rest
A dream that you could give yourself into?
     Words that transform me into a child
Left vacant by the shoulders of your heart
A lead chest bears the weight of your smile
Removed, I am a shadow torn apart
     A pale moon feather, floating down your back
A soft caress rescued from these sad lips
Replenished whole with all that we could lack
Your music incarnates between my hips
     Punished with too much love, my chest grows tight
     Such painful bliss with melancholic bite
 
-III-
     Softly spoken, so sweet these night-time words
Such chill in a deep muted desire
of want, forbid, resembling caged in birds
Such yearning, spred open and inspired
     A doll to such presence, eyes so to haunt
As porcelain, fragile and frail to your touch
Lost angel, not nearly vacant of want
Cracked where your finger-tips lingered too much
     And if you could notice lips that would flush
Perhaps you might urge yourself to comply?
My luna, so watchful, cloaking my blush
Concealed my nature, left only a sigh
     You still remain my most beautiful night
     In secret I'll be your mistress of sight




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On Sunday January 14th, 2007, Sin (1622) writes:
this was so lovely...lefting me sighing ~kristy


On Sunday November 26th, 2006, Circe Avalon (179) writes:
I could see and vintage doll face with fingers lifting from the face and slowly cracks start to erode the face. very visual. very good


On Tuesday November 21st, 2006, Markus Porkwing (708) writes:
Beautiful write... beautiful writer...beautiful images are dancing in my head. Never die.



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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/2059/90548 on Monday December 01st, 2008 06:44 PM

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