morning ritual.

bit of an impromptu written straight to this page piece..

a simple word woke me today

blinkering sleepthick eyes slanted

against the burgeoning light

a ghost of a dream of a wish

embedded upon my lips and

i stretch my fingers to the sun

 

one, two fingers.. three..

 

watching the rays limn them with golden copper

as long hair,

mussed from dreaming's movements,

sweeps down my bare back

with a shivery languidity

only fragmented

by the wish it were your fingers

tracing syllables of desire on my skin

 

i rise..

 

soft pyjama bottoms encasing my thighs

giving a tiny warm embrace

with each movement  towards the kettle

 

one, two steps.. three..

 

long sunpainted fingers encircling a mug

hefty in my palm, warmth within my flesh

a teabag swish, a melting of sugar, a splash of milk

focusing on each step of the ritual

as it grounds me to the new day

 

i place my cup to my lip

blowing softly to ease the burn

when i realise

 

i've forgotten the simple word

which broke my sleep today

Reviews

[bluessadmood]

Ohh I think I will write my morning ritual one day though its not as exciting as this ha ha..
Long hairs sweeping down my back wishing them were your fingers
Pyjamas encasing thighs giving tiny warm embrace
I wish I could join you for a cup of coffee one day..ha ha
who knows ,it would be wonderful..ha ha
lovely write

[Robin]

this poem is so good in so many ways , indeed sensual , becalming like your tea with a dash of milk . most wonderful writing

[Devons]

This to me is a real, sensual examination of isolated life. A feeling of momentary rebirth on a beautiful day, but conveying a sense of the lonely appreciation of oneself.. An appreciation of all that is sensual and erotic about one's own existence; the beauty that goes unattended and unappreciated by another.. alone but loved. An awareness of one's own spiritual sense of living, yet longing. And the word that has been forgotten is the feeling that has spread that beautiful morning... a feeling that has only an elusive representation as a word.. perhaps it is love... but perhaps it is life.
A sensual, spiritual, clinical appraisal of the life of love and the love of life. Strong yet subtle emotions encased by tender words.

[Wildfleour]

A lovely write, my friend. I enjoyed every line........

[Arthur Crow]

Yes, very dreamy and passionate. The word play is captivating as the mood pulls the reader into altered states of exotic wonder. Very good presentation and finely crafted with a silky smooth pen.
Very much enjoyed!

[R J Askew]

Great focus and observation as you lead us to the real point of the poem...the absent other. By focusing on the details of the ritual you make everthing seem acutely real, so by the time we get to the pay dirt at the end we feel that the absence is similarly as real as the tea bag is. Also the poem goes along in a gentle way and then springs like a trap at the end. great job!

[Jonathan Ballam]

This is a wonderfully dreamy and heart warming piece. I honestly wish i was that co-ordinated in the morning. I usually fall out of bed, go the to kitchen and look at the dirty dishes, and then retreat back to the warmth of my bed. I particularly liked the images "blinkering sleepthick eyes slanted" and "soft pyjama bottoms encasing my thighs".

This piece caught my attention because i vaguely remember writing a piece with exactly the same title. I'll dig it up some time soon and share it on writerscafe when i have the energy.

Lovely piece :D