Today's poet

[freckle]

Wow she is really good...it is almost 21.00...time for some passion (ooh I remember the days...)!

The Pleasure of Lusting
Susan McMaster
From: Uncommon Prayer. Kingson, Ontario: Quarry Press, 1998.

—the pleasure of lusting
after you is to stroke, with my finger
the hollow beside your eye so lightly
you only shift and turn in your sleep—
hmmm— a small, satisfied sound
and your arm drops across me
in sleepy caress, and fits
under its weight, the arch
leaves my back, I become soft
as the sheet, waver down
your snores

—or to lie, blanket to chin
while you warm last night's coffee, lie
with one knee turned out, fingers idling
casual as the stroke for the cat
who sometimes rumbles beside us
as we toss, feeling everything
become fluid, rounded
a watery terrain

—and then to pull you
down to me, turn with one motion
from back to front, close my hands
around your ankles, close the triangle
as you rock me from below, as we
climb a long, slow wave to the
top, glide down

—what pleasure, then
to drift into dream of rocking
together up wave after wave
or wake, cup palm around
your shoulder as you drowse
beside me, watching

—three small, sleek, blackbirds
in the tree outside the window
whistle and preen

—roll again over you

Some great choices Hes...and this one Ooooo la la !........ nice one

[Alf]

Some great choices Hes...and this one Ooooo la la !........ nice one

I liked the Young Crows. It is a difficult subject but does put into words well those feelings you have at times like that.

"Or will a gentler breeze
catch you, carry you
lift you against hope
to a nest of long grasses
on the hill's shaggy side

wings beat at my heart
fear takes flight"

[stevefoster]

Passion

Passion for the stars
Passion for the ocean
A moment of passion so easily shared,
With no fear o regret.
Passion is the eagerness to wake up with the light

A moment of passion I'll never forget
My passion found me
And what is my passion?
Passion and lust takes my mind

Passion the power to love,
The speed of passion: Furios
Passion is something you see
Passion its something you are.

Marisa Taylor

[Alf]

I think Richard Burton read this poem out at the funeral of Dylan Thomas.


Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas

[Derby Tup]

cystal winter night
Orion reminds me of
an absent loved one

[stevefoster]

Great choice Alf

[stevefoster]

cystal winter night
Orion reminds me of
an absent loved one

Beautiful DT

[Old Whippet]

Wow she is really good...it is almost 21.00...time for some passion (ooh I remember the days...)!

The Pleasure of Lusting
Susan McMaster
From: Uncommon Prayer. Kingson, Ontario: Quarry Press, 1998.

—the pleasure of lusting
after you is to stroke, with my finger
the hollow beside your eye so lightly
you only shift and turn in your sleep—
hmmm— a small, satisfied sound
and your arm drops across me
in sleepy caress, and fits
under its weight, the arch
leaves my back, I become soft
as the sheet, waver down
your snores

—or to lie, blanket to chin
while you warm last night's coffee, lie
with one knee turned out, fingers idling
casual as the stroke for the cat
who sometimes rumbles beside us
as we toss, feeling everything
become fluid, rounded
a watery terrain

—and then to pull you
down to me, turn with one motion
from back to front, close my hands
around your ankles, close the triangle
as you rock me from below, as we
climb a long, slow wave to the
top, glide down

—what pleasure, then
to drift into dream of rocking
together up wave after wave
or wake, cup palm around
your shoulder as you drowse
beside me, watching

—three small, sleek, blackbirds
in the tree outside the window
whistle and preen

—roll again over you

Good to know that some lasses don't mind snoring!!!
I liked this, and the other Susan McMaster poem - never heard of her til tonight.

[Old Whippet]

cystal winter night
Orion reminds me of
an absent loved one

nice one DT.
This loved one....canny with a bow and arrow? or good at dot-to-dot puzzles?

[Hes]

cystal winter night
Orion reminds me of
an absent loved one

Love it DT. Very romantic.

I have just been out to look at Orion having been tipped off by a good friend. He says you can see Mars clearly to the left. Unfortunately the snow has left a cloudy sky here so I can't see any stars at all.