Power in Play and Ink

Brendan, over at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, invited us to “write a poem about power in [our lives] and the world… about power or creativity or instinct… heavenly or earthly powers…” I don’t know of anyone who’s heavenlier or earthier or modest(ier) than moi. So, as you might’ve predicted, I birthed a wee poem about things that feed my power:

There is power in mind-kissing
words and wit, which quickens
hips and heart-bits.

There is power in dancing
to well-fingered tunes, which kindles
brain and groin.

I find power in song and story…
in loving play… in lusty ink…

a wee note…
– It seems that I also find power in ellipses… *cough, cough… cough*
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden and Poets United.

“…dancing, and seeing into the darkness…”
The Craft, by Patricia Ariel

Let Me Love You Strange (or not at all)

“How ravished one could be without ever being touched. Ravished by dead words become obscene, and dead ideas become obsessions.” ~ Lady Chatterley’s Lover

I showed him the woman inside,
and gave him me—a wild story
of living sex and dirt and blood,
a poem inked in flesh and bone.

I told him I wanted to
dream words that inspire
tangible realities, and said,
“Ink no illusion you aren’t
willing (dying) to live.

Love me in ink, or not at all.
I am a poem in love—words
brewing normal inside out.
Let me love you strange,
relish in it (in us).”

I wanted him
in ink, hot and alive
inside flesh that burns
like love-drunk lust
trapped in shut lips.

I showed him I wanted
him (all of him) in ink,
or not at all.

Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Tuesday Platform.

the visual poetry

and two more poem bits, here and here