Wednesday, August 24, 2011

He Speaks in Rivers, Like the Winds...

I woke up late today and zipped off to the coffee shop as soon as possible. I chatted with Kyle and put on my lipstick for the day while he made me my mocha. I was there for about an hour, and this is what I came up with... I stole the structure from something far more beautiful in its metaphor. When I feel the muse, I move quickly to capture what is passing.

He Speaks in Rivers

He speaks in rivers, like the winds
do blow in moods all different.
When passionate caresses find
a breeze across my face, he spent
his gentle words on love so blind
with whispered meanings never bent.
The wild sirocco wields less heat
than how he scorches obstacles
against our love. No mighty feat
compares to ice and icicles
he volleys wide to ever beat
naysayers ways and spectacles.

The California zephyr knows
how he pulls upon my heart.
From his dark eyes to his trained toes,
I was a willow from the start.
My branches dancing, his winds blow.
He moves my being through his art.

--(c) 2011 Squid B. Varilekova a.k.a. Tanya H. A. Varilek

The truest test I have found for whether or not my mind is working properly is whether or not I can write poetry... metered or otherwise.

Sweetness, I have more than pretty words to give you.

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