Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Biting her lip.

Black eyes through darkened brows
look at reddened cheeks, lighten
your smile talking sweetly, glowingly
in undulating tones, your mother listens
as you bite your lip, more beauty
can not be known, I have eyes to see
the sweet aroma of your perfume
touches, tasting the saltiness of your skin.


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Love, when will you come?

Love,
when will you come
and hold me in your arms?
When love has filled your heart
and the world has left you empty.

Empty?
Why wait till then
to take and kiss me sweetly?
When you mind has emptied
your heart will be full of love for me.

Love,
when will the strings,
of the past be loosened?
Heart strings like gossamer
will dissolve when you choose to live.

Live,
with this torment
tempted without you love to show?
My love is there for you
already in your heart, take me.

See,
All I see is light;
why keep me waiting in the night?
The night is long, so too the day
In one brief moment I am with you.

Love,
come to me now
while my longing for you desires.
I have already come to you
always there in your heart, kiss me

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Kiss you in the night...

Soft hands touch
eyes blue as the sky
ruffle your blonde hair,
a pain deep inside
that rises and subsides,
let me touch your lips
and kiss you in the night.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

My Reflection

Why do you look at me so,
I’m tired and my work is through?
What more can you ask of me,
Now that all is said and done?
I’ve danced my last pirouette,
My Reflection: by Samantha Thompson
shown myself to all and sundry,
that’s all I have. And when
the gift that I’ve been graced with
has been weathered by mother time,
and each quill of my feather
has fallen to the ground,
will you still look at me so,
Wanting to cup my warm breast
and dream of suckling her milk.

You’d deny to me point blank
that you’d ever think this way,
magically beyond desire
you stare at me quite rudely,
wanting to overcome me
after all that I’ve done, you
want to take me! And then
like a babe at my nipple
you’ll look at me, call me babe
as you look into my eyes.
Still, you’ll not see me looking
or smell the drink on your breath.
Please go now, leave me in peace,
I’m finished now for the night. 

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Monday, November 22, 2010

My Reflection

My Reflection - Original painting by Samantha Thompson
Paradise mirrored,
tempts me to touch
a tree of knowledge,
I’ll never comprehend.




Her uncertain look,
lips barely touching skin
cup her shapely breasts,
caressing a curved hip.




Dark eyes echo a look,
kissing in unity
I long to feel her neck,
taste the salt of her skin.




A garter shows restraint,
a feather defends her
vulnerable to impress,
nothing comes between us.




Off you go, sweet woman,
fear no more the boisterous
crowd that calls out for you,
then please return to me
so I may admire your grace.

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Sunday, November 21, 2010

No need for goodbyes


Grey clouds blanket blue skies above
the warm winds feather leaves, flowers
blooming, shop doors open and shut
as people come and go, belly protruding
an unshaven old man, young women
dressed for fashion tap on phones, looking

We journey on together toward the sun
hoping beyond hope to be freed from desire
resting peacefully, grey beards and t-shirts
talk while young women chat and aspire
to a higher plane always there below them,
never looking up lest their hearts catch fire.

Freedom is already there for the taking
with nothing to search for, love forsaken
I would sing at your window on a warm
summer’s night, if I didn’t fear that such
beauty was already taken, so I sit by myself
observing my words, hopefully mistaken.

All is within you, you were born to a gift
that your mother sang you sweet lullabies
and cooked those dishes you can’t forget.
Happiness and joy already there, no need
for goodbyes, love fills you heart, spreads
to the world, a touch, dark glancing eyes.

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Saturday, November 20, 2010

A light that shines.


I see her hidden
behind dark glasses,
her radiant smile
walking towards me,
blonde hair says “Hi!
Remember me?
Perhaps we were meant to be
together, we talk over coffee.

Blue eyes radiate
joyfully dancing,
she smiles a whispy
blondeness, freckled arms
hang down, as if
we’d never parted.
A mosaic of recognition I hold
her hand, she gently squeezes.

I ring her that night
and again tomorrow,
wanting to hold her
touch her speckled skin,
follow each crease
from head to toe,
at last a light that shines before
me, I let her go on a promise.

That light I search for
echoes inside me,
in a dream I see her
laying naked, hair
hanging down, sun
spangled shoulders,
still I wander endlessly
in the darkness for that love.

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Friday, November 19, 2010

Attendre pour le signal

They gather
looking expectantly
waiting for their call,
already in movement
fine feathers adorn,
their crowns bejewelled
sit delicately.


Silently
their patient eyes
glance motionlessly,
fine boned arms
attend to the moment,
outstretched around
anticipation.


Transient,
a signal begins
prancing elegantly,
harmonic union
building to applause,
the dancers move
in expectation.
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Sunday, November 14, 2010

I walk onwards ever more...

Dante and Virgil in Hell Dante and Virgil in Hell


For many years I dwelt
in the darkness of my soul,
lit only so that I could see
flashing knives and billiard cues.
I thought this Hell was paradise,
a woman hanging off each arm,
kisses caress a battered heart,
the loneliness of my long night.

Lingering darkness enclosed me,
soon blanking out the caresses
and kisses of those who’d take me,
courage gone and my warmth withdrawn
ever so slowly from my heart,
will to act receding to despair
with only memories to dog
my bitterness, I could not breath.

With all joy drained from my heart
I shivered and shook in darkness ,
my middle years had emptied me
leaving me only with clarity,
stripped bare of all love and hopeless,
I prayed for help and help arrived
restoring faith through charity,
hope melting my frost encrusted soul.


I moved out of that dark, dank cave
onto the mountain slopes, and saw
a flickering light before me.
A guide from ancient times appeared
and told me how he’d, too, been led
by one older still towards that light.
When he told me that this light, so pure,
was Beatrice, I knew his words rang true.

With renewed hope I start my climb,
encouraged on by the old man
towards the promise of paradise
ahead, the light flickering bright
above me as I ascend the rocky slopes
toward the pinnacle, suppliants
all around me , not looking back
to glance at the dark pit behind.

All the way praising He who forgives,
the rising sun that makes birds sing,
nor forgetting the delusion I’d lived
in ignorance, I climb ever forth
at risk of falling back below
to that place that freezes hearts
and saps your blood, taking the breath
away so that one can no longer speak.

At nightfall I recall the path
I’ve taken that day, ensuring
that I am moving ever closer
to that beacon of love above
that some call heaven, Beatrice
leads my way and draws me ever
closer to her, blinded as I am
by the opaque radiance of her face.

The curtains open, each word I speak
is spoken through me, a spirit
far greater than I’ll ever be,
each word given to me in love
lights the way forward for me.
The moon hangs like a gondala
above, her kindness shining down
mistaken for the softness of a kiss.

Soft is her touch against my skin
dried ageing, in the hour reserved
for lovers she silently glides
past me, warming my cold heart
that is torn with longing for her,
she who will one day be my reward
in Paradise, far away from these
rocky slopes and the deep ravines of Hell.

And,
Just like those who passed before me,
my path is lit by Beatrice
so that I may side step obstacles
strewn in my path, falling rocks
and grey precipice foreboding.
I make my way towards the light
that is she who will show me the way
to love, through to my longed for Paradise.

Gustave Doré's illustration to Dante's Inferno... Beatrice am I. Whom did bid thee go?Beatrice, deep down in my soul
far beyond my thoughts and my heart,
I know that one day you will take me
by your hands silkily, and lead me
on those last precarious steps,
and lay with me on a feather bed
sheeted with fine silk and linen,
savouring each other in sweet embrace.

Each honeyed moment we’ll taste
the sweetness of perfumed bodies
entwined in love to He who saves,
relishing in what is no sin
but freely given to us by Him,
to ecstasy we’ll soar, holding
each other in each others’ arms
we’ll be united in everlasting love.
So for you I walk onwards evermore
so that one day we’ll meet in Paradise.



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Saturday, November 13, 2010

She lights the path ahead

 A cool breeze brushes my skin
as clouds drift aimlessly by,
lovers kissing on a bench
sprout green leaves against the sky.
I long for something, unsure what
exactly draws me to desire,
a light I know ahead of me,
a path to which my heart aspires.

An old friend walks beside me
uttering a comforting word,
one by one in the street we pass
girls all dressed to strike a chord.
In his company I feel secure
as he gently laughs, as we talk
my red heart is no longer torn
by the desire we pass as we walk.

Oh, to find her! She’s not there
I must admit, not meant to be,
though my search will not be in vain
desire’s longing contained, I’ll see
her light brightly my path ahead,
certain that she won’t be let down,
even if I’m meant to wander
and accept my fate without a frown.


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Entwined in the World

Entwined in the world,
cocooned in your heart
we travel together,
while the city drones
one hand touches another.

Stillness and laughter
toing and froing,
we roll as we cuddle
stopping and starting
the silence is broken,  we laugh.

Exhausted we sleep,
hearts unite as one
as loving arms lightly
touch each other,
a magpie chorales
as the sun slowly rises.

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Fan Me

Original painting by Samantha Thompson
Red lips entrance me
held back, face looking on
eyes speaking to me coolly,
the smooth curve of her neck
beckons me, and I stand still
as she passes by me waiting.

Gingerly around me
she moves, red wine lips
avoid me through dark eyes,
I am drawn to her slender
arms, fanned in her stillness
as she passes by me waiting.

<<Come to me>>,  she whispers
softly, embrace me now
bedazzled by her fans,
her beauty withholds me
against the darkness of desire;
<<Fan me>> said  softly <<with a                               kiss>>.
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Sunday, November 7, 2010

I kiss your kiss

original work by 2010, Samantha Thompson
Your eyes
softly looking
ask me,
touch my lips,
my hair
wants to run
through your fingers.

Soft frown
lips poised to touch,
my fingers,
your shoulders
neck their way
up, your chin
gently touches.

I am
drawn to touch you,
nothingness
draws me closer,
I resist,
futile to,
I succumb
and kiss your kiss.
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Searching for love.

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Friday, November 5, 2010

The Troubadour

A cold wind blows in from the cold, dark South,
the fresh wind blowing against my bare neck,
I stand  looking down at the flooding creek below,
fields greened by heavens above, trees whispering,
in the distance the birds are still settling their young,
I'll go to her tonight and sing to her in a soft voice,
plaintively calling "Come my beautiful darling to me."

I'll sing to her as I've sung so many times before
outside her window, curtain's drawn, lights down low,
praying to the Lord that she'll come speak to me
and take me in from the dark night, cold and wet,
out of the soaking rain to her bright warm hearth
and feed me with the nectar of her  gentle kisses,
take me in her fine warm arms and soothe my soul.

Oh! I long for those arms so warm, all embracing
that are now so far away across the muddy plains,
dark horizons, I can see her prancing, black dress
and pink shoes, a freshly picked flower in her hair,
dancing gracefully across the golden parquetry floor
with another, my heart, heavy with the thought of her
so far away smiling and happy, without me at her side.

I tune my old guitar before departing, my old friend
that has accompanied the song in my heart for her,
a tear trickles down my old, lined and weathered cheek
that longs to touch hers so soft and young, the hairs
bristle still as I think of the many times before I'd sung
love's song, bringing warmth to many a warm heart,
lighting the fires of a passion that I fear too will pass
with my singing, "Come my beautiful darling to me."
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Art

Each word I place
With the precision
Of a painter,
Standing at a canvas
Palette in hand.

My canvas lies
On the knee before me
I draw the colours
drawn from my mind,
hues of the times. 

Each phrase alone
Follows an another
Build to a sentence
Like so many strokes,
Colours of my mind.

One day the page
Will lay blank for someone
Yet to come, to follow
and fill the gaps
left by the world.

I will leave songs
Of life's progression,
The details of my heart
Are no secret, for all
To see as they see fit.