A Little More

constructive criticism always welcome

The yawn of morning
Always asks for more.
More than incents in the air,
And more than
Half-black, half -yellow,
lips as if photographed
Centuries ago
And only shadows remind of
Their whispered
‘j’adore’,
More than that silhouette
 Of candles spilling rivers
On the floor
To reach the fingers
Dug with well-drawn pain,
Of which were born
A spasm and a moan.
In the yawn of morning,
One always asks for more.
Not theatre décor,
Nor the depth of your
Ecstatic soul
Stripped of layers
Of untruth,
The yawn of morning
Needs a little more
 than a naked heart
And naked legs
And naked arms
And a vulnerable neck
That you voluntarily
Allow me to break.
In the yawn of morning
Being you is not enough.
What you need is coffee
And dreams. And a string
Of ideas around the throat
Which can be tightened
Only at night.

 

Reviews

[Circe]

oh my gosh.... this is so good... you darkling!!! I'm so delighted to see the soft imagery infused with violent imagery... I think this has to be felt poetically.. there is no other way of sensing what you write.. the want of a little more... further than the human reach in the waking hours.. when you half remember what you are... so beautiful the candles spilling rivers and fingers dug with well-drawn pain! marvelous! you conjure the most wonderful responses in my psyche... feel like a different person having read this. the nakedness so necessarily sensual, nature stripping itself... Breaking of neck feels like surrendering fully to a lover, an experience, to trust and be more than yourself. coffee and dreams... simply beautiful. throat tightened at night, that is perfect. choked by a string of ideas... they can suffocation is liberation from breathing with too much ease.... we need a little more!! thank you for this inspiring piece.

[Marri]

I am so humbled!

[Circe]

also love the spasm and moan of which we were born..... life is like a spasm.