Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

She wears her hair
carefully arranged.

She is a word gardener.
She plucks weeds with a
pitchfork.

She has no need to portray her face
as any other face than the face she faces
each day when she presents herself to a mirror.

She does not enjoy deliberate assault to character
or virtue. Nor does she implore reasons in vain.
She would rather view the present tries
of juries as artificial televised events.

She cannot identify a lie -

and oh when he seized her, he seized her
ways, pleasure measured by days and blazes.
Lyric wordwaves are paramount to her spirit.

She does not adorn herself with virtues
or costumes she does not own.
She is owned by no-one.

Her patience slips into syllables.

She turns a phrase, folded with humus.
She digs roots with prongs.
Unfertilized soil tempts her.
She is the inventor of the harvest.
She waters soiled soil.

She wears her hair carefully arranged.
She releases pins to allow strands to
cascade to her waist. She speaks of a place
which greets dawn with
wind-scattered seeds.

And oh when he seized her, he seized her
ways, blazed fights ignited by wordplay,
flights with absurdities,
his hands, the hands of a god,
made way to capture breezes
of love in palms,
rubbed remedies like satin tease,
blooms of verse, the petals
loosed on terse skin, her tresses
dressed by a
dance around her waist,
her breast panting solemn vows,
her loin, empty, babies born of
patience slipped into syllables,
perennial goddesses born, umbilical, the
release.

I noticed the arrangement of her hair
from this I could tell she was cautious

by the tell-tale dirt under her nails
I knew she was a gardener.

but her face, her face
was like a mirror
in her eyes I saw mine

but I seized her anyway
she resisted
but only for a syllable

she claimed to have invented gardening
so I worked my tool
into the agriculture of her thighs

with the curve of her waist
I predict the seasons.

she is the
crease on a
horizon, written with
paint accents, blackened
hills ready for hues tinted by
lenses finally portraying his
value, each note dotted staccato,
each rhythm of his meter curved at
her waste, each taste of divine,
predicted like the seasons predict melting or
worth, each value of a syllable pronounced by
resistance seized and she loved him more than
air, the way a dilettante loves a possibility of
becoming.

her creases are anthems to moisture
inscribed, indelible and tinted
rhythm drips suspended
in syllables uttered
no, whispered
in her ear.

she is the air
he breathes

Oh.....get a room!!!!

Oh, you already have one I see. Sowwy!

Tres romantique you two.

Yes, I'm voyeuraging again.

So sweet the way you play off each other.

Sigh......

Thank you for reading me, mousey1. I very much appreciate it.

_______
LR - enjoyed writing with you... thank you!

doreen,
this is so lyrical and i was enchanted, till i read the word 'humus' and then i was taken to a falafel stand with fresh pita, humous and tehina and the mood went right out the window. only today - 2 days later, have i been able to read your poem without the food association.

and it's a pleasure.

judih

Hey DP...great piece...reminds me of a flick i was watchin the other night...Casino with DeNiro, Stone ...et al ...one scene with Joe Pesci's wife with hair up in 60's bun unravelled to allow smuggled diamonds to fall....Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds....

judih - Thanks for reading.... At first, I thought you meant I spelled it wrong, in error, like the pita spread, humous, which by the way, we eat all the time. Being half middle-eastern myself, humous is regularly included in our diet. My brother-in-law makes the best humous I have ever tasted! But no, I looked it up and I spelled it right. LOL!- humus - the organic component of soil - yep! So, I'm happy you read for two reasons.... one- the falafel stand with fresh pita, humous, and tehina, sounds delightful and I'm glad I took you there, though inadvertently and - two- if I was able to enchant you and you found some lyrical value here, I am delighted! Thank you!

Artguy - I love DeNiro and Joe Pesci! I've never seen that movie! Now I need to go rent it! Glad to hear you enjoyed this piece and that it came to mind when watching the scene where a woman let her hair down ...... You know why women wear their hair up to begin with, don't you? That's right. So they can let it down! Thank you for reading and for your kind words.

Seized,
and captivated.

I repeat:
You two knock me out.

Fantastic piece Dor......just gave me da shivers!
H

A lyrical and lovely write........the goddess incarnate~

hest - I'm happy that something in my words seized you. It's an honor to be read. Truly. Thank you! YOU always knock me out and captivate me .... If I recipricated in some way, well, hell, I'll just try to do it again, then, maybe! :p heh... thanks much, kind lady


ADannon - Thank you for reading .... To me, lyrical is the essence of poetry and I love your comment... "the goddess incarnate" ... I'm not asking for permission to borrow that ... i'm just doing it, y'know why? 'cause archibald macleash (or however the hell you spell his name) said, "good writers borrow. great writers steal." LOL! So, maybe he was an authority, right? I'll use it in the sonnet I haven't written yet.