When Death Decides to Whisper Plant a Kiss Upon Its Lips~

~soothing mortality~

He sat there

by the window

of stains

dreams still clenched

in his fist

he bent

a moment in a pearl brocade

unquenched

she unfurled her silks

like water

in cool drips

at his feet

against the tide

of mortality

ripe

which teased

against his ancient mind

 

She enjoyed him by the hour

capturing his gaze

he tasted her sublime

youth

throughout the  days

as dying went about

the figurines of glass

his cane against the door

in a stand of wood and brass

and she bent into his fixture

her hands into his bones

refusing to give meaning

to age

or to atone

for every sinuous curve

she brushed against his arms

of how she used her lips

to sooth him

like a balm

 

"You're greater than their fears."

she said

"Greater than their greed."

as she fed him honey

from a hive

and offered him reprieve

in the scripture

of her arms

embrace

and the psalms of what she was

she'd lift him

every night and day

to a dying time's applause

beneath the down of memory

and the crossroads of a scroll 

as he moved his youth out of his mind

to glaze her eyes of kohl

with his kiss

against her neck

unlocked and smooth

at her behest

sublime in every swallow

of her body made to sooth

 

And so the night enfolded

the old house settled

with a sigh

as she placed him on a bed

of oak

his hard hands had designed

and she kissed each fingertip

with a mouth of berry crème

and pulled him through the swelling

of her struggling

to be free

because

here

she wanted to be chained

to his days and to his nights

ached to enter him like water

to their horror and delight

as the hours fractured off the mirror

and lines deepened through his soul

she pressed her body into his

in that hour without control

curing him of life

feeding him in vain

as eternity crushed down

on another killing day

 

So smooth

she pulled him over

into a photograph from dust

she blew across its surface

and licked away the rust

until he stood against her gown

his fedora tilted to the right

she smiled against his chin

as death

transposed them through the light

where he took her in his arms

and she folded bright

into the tune

round

and round

to music

dance

he dipped her

and she leaned deep back

against the evermore of Time

where love may pause

but doesn't die

as long as there is just one left

to remember

to remember them~

 

And in a photo black and white

a man knelt down

a woman smiled

and the little girl who watched them there

placed her Ipod on a chair

and leaned in close

forward

to see

where she came from

where she'd be

to smooth the wheels turned in a clock. . . .

and a little girl sang

tick

and tock

 

 

 

copyright:2010vssmd/pa. inc

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 

 

 

excerpt from .. . .

Author's Note

~*~

Reviews

[Amy Bumpas]

The seduction of a woman....here she wanted to be chained
to his days and to his nights
ached to enter him like water
Love that line.

Such control, dominance, yet a willingness to surrender,
be the fantasy. You took us to the past, present, and brought a
house alive. And...here we go back in time...

[Janice Ann]

Selene, you dear have a wonderful way with words. This made me believe death can be and will be welcoming...kind, and beautiful...and it is weird to make me say those things, but a wonderful dream you do weave dear!
Thanks for sharing.
Janice Ann

[Wildfleour]

So incredible...........an immortal dance spun through your words.

[Crowley]

My God...you have such a smooth pen. I could pick any piece form your exceptional and prolific arsenal, and each one seems to be printed on glass for easy gliding. This was a wonderful thought and such a good contrast with the girl and the ipod and the picture. A wave of nostalgia definitely flowed over and through me. Someday you will hae to teach me how to write on glass.

[emmajoy]

' .. and offered him reprieve
in the scripture
of her arms
embrace
and the psalms of what she was
she'd lift him
every night and day
to a dying time's applause
beneath the down of memory ..'

i cry because your words are beautiful fact .. only you could write like this.There are times when dying becomes outrage and death is the most welcome of all visitors.

So beautiful, Selene:

' she leaned deep back
against the evermore of Time
where love may pause
but doesn't die
as long as there is just one left
to remember
to remember them~'

[Cheryl J. Turner]

A fabulous piece of writing. I love the end the most.

[Jibey]

I really don't know what to write... I coasted down your magical words and felt the blending of age and youth, of the rough and gnarled and smooth and sensuous, the moment of death that is also the moment of life...

You write with such ease, yet the vocabulary and imagery speak of a wonderful mind and skill...

[StacyPerry]

amazing.

nuff said

[Pax Analog]

"as she fed him honey/from a hive/and offered him reprieve/in the scripture/of her arms/embrace/and the psalms of what she was"

Stately, saintly, solicitous. Those lines stand out as mirrors of my own in empathic places. Strikes a mood of an eternal hour where old age, youthful adulthood, childhood hold hands while sweet memory rolls out the Scythester's white carpet.

This graceful pre-elegy keeps poignance and dignity in close embrace, echoing all the days of any reader's life.

[Hellslastwarrior]

nice structure, really liked the style you used in this poem, it showed a good depth of thought about what death could actually be? I really like the split sentences that let you take little split thoughts between each line.
Really liked it, keep it up very enjoyed it. !
! ! ! ! ! :P
Ted :P

[...]

. a tale of submission to time ... and of submission itself ... poignant beyond measure ... rare sensitivity from rare thoughts ... that belong to a rare soul ... a thoroughly consuming read ...