Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Reading Between the Lines...

Poetry; the most intimate road between writer and reader.  James Scoles

When we make love out of habit, not heart
We pander with plebeian phrases, fine art
Finger-tip routine and word void of need
Scorns silver-linings with second-rate greed

There is no poetry in worn cliches
Cold, like an ember bereft of its blaze
Darling, how busy our bodies become
Deaf to the music that musters the poem

Surely the laugh-lines of yesterday’s bliss
Longs to replenish our mouths with its kiss
Touch; be the climax of hard-fought foreplay
Second-mile murmurs through guerdons of clay

Beauty is not in the shaping of skin
But bleeds from rudiments somewhat akin
To scarlet-stained front-lines where we over-threw
Common-clad odds to protect what we knew

Darling, let’s undo the air with our eyes
…covet the apex of want for its Prize
For when we make love out of habit, not heart
We desecrate its most venerable part

© Janet Martin



Thank you for your visit to this porch. Any thoughts you would like to share?