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...

[Larry Dyson]

hmmm...life leads to death ...but oh the stories it could tell...no asumptions ..just wonderfully loving and sweet stories..encuenten...told..
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 the lines deepen 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
buttery smooth

[luciddreamer]

Beautiful

[Kesha]

Very good Selene! Right away it drew me in 'He sat there by the window of stains' with that line I wanted to read more and I'm glad I did! Very enjoyable read!

[dovetailer]

I think it is good to dwell on the end of days...
we celebrate our birth and the passing of each year
but do not face the final act when the play draws to an end
and we make our final bows to the audience
who've been with us...spellbound...
from the beginning...
who stand and applaud
crying "More..More...
as the curtain closes...
and if it is our lot..
we return to give another taste
another glimpse...
another blessing to the crowd
of friends...foes...family...
but sooner or later...
the play is over
and the house lights fade to black
and the herald cries
the rave reviews
to all who have an ear to hear...
Death is not an end...but the end of a chapter...
we must unzip our skin that constrains us
in order to be eternal...
another star in the heavens...

I love your thoughts...
the depth of you musings...
that you embrace life each day
and seem to wring every drop of life from it...
You write of a relationship with Death...
his cane by the door...
knowing the tilt of his fedora
a dance relished...
an bond...shared...
Indeed...he is not a stranger
to show up at our door one day unexpected...
but one who has walked beside us all our life...
teaching us to value what we have...
be conscious of every moment
to the end of moments
when he grabs his hat and cane...
takes our hand gently
saying...
"It's time to go..."

Wonderful...again...

[Brad]

sheer nirvana...again your words are sweet but sometimes leave a bitter aftertaste...your writing sometimes reminds me of clive barker if he would be a poet...love your liquid language

[Sweets]

Nicely written poem =)
Loved the title (:

[Matthew Kult]

Very captivating. Kept in close and salivating for the next line. Excellent work.

[Nancy S.]

Sigh

I must agree with everyone's observation of beauty, but with a sense that it is not a literary art created for the readers of your books, but a combination of two memories, then and now, as your words flip through my mind like your photographs of family I have seen, black and white, and revealing layers of your heart centered on the love, the life, then and now... hugs

[Aven]

This is one of the most beautiful poems I've ever read, if not the most beautiful. It has a grace unbeknownst to this life. It is incredible how it flows from one line to the next, like a girl - dreaming of being a ballerina - skipping from one stone to the other, in the middle of the creek. I loved this, truly.

[TheOther]

Definately an amazing write. Such a beautiful piece that flows wonderfully. Good job on this one.