Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

wrap me in prose
for poems are not enough
they limit your warmth
to lilting little phrases
that barely cover my soul

shining like a lure in
the sea of consciousness
hoping to be taken
off the hook of poetry
into the full description
of your waterfall words
cascading over my chakras
- spellbinding me
- confining me
- divining me
with your pen in hand
drawing forth intense
ruminations of desire
locked in fabled storerooms
of castles lost to another's eyes

bathe me in your verse
so my heart will see
your real eyes staring
deep thru this mask,
shadow plays of ego
gone berserk upon stage
quivering in anticipation

i whisper with love burning :
wrap me in your open words
mesmerize me while we dance
through this mystery of life
embraced, locked arm in arm
as one until life's final breath

and so she wrote -

'chapters may be written
the verses penned in love
pages washed with brilliance
illumined high above'

feeling the way with fingers
aloft upon wings of passion
burning in unison
we traverse the verse
penned with intimacy
words beginning with drops
ending in a flood of emotion
engulfing our senses in a holy union
defying the edicts of bitter fools
... scribbling nonsense in darkened clouds
... scribbling nonsense in darkened clouds
... scribbling nonsense in darkened clouds

i drown in words sometimes. it keeps me alive

Poetry does so much more with less.
But sometimes even poetry is no substitute for more than less.

you demonstrate with deft hand, the power of language....
a very interesting journey through a mind that understands this power
and wonder.............nice write.....peace....steve

very well crafted. i like the visual effect of the triple repetition dwindling. very imaginative.

sweet, beautiful poem Cecil!!!!!

yeppur, smileGRL... to drown in words one never loses the will to live.

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mnaz : "But sometimes even poetry is no substitute for more than less."

I'm still trying to fully grasp that line...

____

saw... the language of this reply was very much appreciated.

peace2U, steve

_____

gracias, constantino. a little imagination spices things up... as you well know! TY

_____

Ah, arcadia! and a sweet, beautiful reply from you... muchas gracias, amiga mia![/i]

mtmynd wrote:"But sometimes even poetry is no substitute for more than less."

I'm still trying to fully grasp that line...

Poetry is, among other things, economy of expression-- "more with less". Prose, while some economy is desirable, is a more spacious unveiling-- "more than less", if you will...

ahh...that's right! "more than less" is not a common expression for me, but i do understand this line now that you've explained it. thank you, nazzer!

you're an old man. you'll be dead soon. that is a fair comment. i'm sure you've realised this. you've sent me a gift of art in the post, which i still have. beautiful art created by your hippy hand. Buddha bones...

but:

i whisper with love burning :
wrap me in your open words
mesmerize me while we dance
through this mystery of life
embraced, locked arm in arm
as one until life's final breath

i'm moved when i read this. that such an old, emaciated, close to death fucker such as you can write such beautiful and honest words. i can imagine you reading, or simply saying these words to that Buddhabitch you call a wife... and i love that i've "known" you for close to 8 years.

grateful for the memories and looking forward to more.
Xx

Bennie, my friend... those pictures you have in your head of me,
painted by a pallet of words read throughout the passing years,
tend to portray the object to which your speak of as somebody
I recognize one day passing away under the shade of a mesquite
while the butterflies and bumbling bees pass overhead in search
of that which I will hopefully have already attained in my own time,
but as of today, much like yesterday, I am happy to say -
my health is quite good, much better than one year ago,
as my habits of excess have come to pass with the knowledge
that desire is a trick of the mind that signals a necessity to consume
any thing that will produce a change inside the mind always restless and needy of alternative methods of behaving, and this is
all happening between our very own two ears
which miss out hearing the precious silence concealing
the real meaning of our limited lives measured upon the quantity
of spins around this burning gaseous ball we call

<center>SUN

the creator of life
the maker of time
who judges not one's path
for this one sun
illumines all paths
with equality</center>

Life gives us all that it has received in return...