Poetry, vignettes, ramblings...

[Modjadji]

I wrote this a long time ago, for someone I've found and lost and just found again. So it's a celebration, really, through and through.



Psalm



You are my angel

I shall not want



Eternity flashes through me with each shared breath.

I feel your laughing warmth against my skin.

A quiet exploration,

Both the first and the last and the million in between.

Stolen, taken, given.

I remember every single touch, even those I’ve yet to feel.



You doze with me in the green pastures

You pull me with you through the still waters

You restore my soul



Your face lies waiting behind my eyes.

I want to scoop you up, wrap myself around you,

Never let your magic go to waste.

I can feel your power tugging at my stomach,

Pulling me towards you from the quiet places.

The lazy sweep of your hand across my ribcage

Itches my skin with dappled fire.

I let myself let you in,

Asking silent permission to lead you down that road.

You enclose me and pull me apart in the same breath,

In the same sigh.

Of all the touches I have known, yours is the lightest,

The firmest,

The most unbearable.



I can’t hear the outsider say that this isn’t how it should be,

That I’m not meant to fit you like this.

I’m your mirror image, not your negative space.

How could they complete you

When I know you are already complete.



There is no shadow of death surrounding us

There is no evil to fear here

I have all the comfort I need



You pull and push and curve and shudder into me

As I dip gently into you.

Synchronicity is something to be cherished.

You knew every other part of me before you knew this one,

And in every other part of you I found an echo of how this would feel.

I couldn’t read you like a book,

But the scholar in me could still turn your pages.

Now I know this language back to front,

Yet every shaft of moonlight lights another unread word.

I’m covered in you

As together we take the final steps,

Teetering on the edge of everything and nothing,

And then we fall.



I have no enemies in this house of enemies

I feel your heat anoint my skin

My cup runneth over



I open my eyes much later,

Desperate to study your calm face in the afterglow.

The dark glimmer of your golden hair is tousled into spikes and flames

I curl into you, feeling the fire in you wrap itself around me even as it cools.

You’re smiling into me,

Radiating joy.



Surely this moment will follow me all the days of my life

And we will embrace it, and dwell in it forever.

Edited by: Modjadji at: 2/12/04 12:57 pm

[Spikeizmine87]

hey! Awesome poem you have there! Great writting style! I enjoyed it alot! I can really grasp what you're feeling! I hope you write more! Write on!

-Rose

The only thing I hate in the world, is people who are dishonest with themselves. And people who smell.

[SJ]

Great poetry,thanks for sharing

[Stroke of Luck]

I just can say this "Great"



Cu

SoL/Natti

This is a duet, Amber! You need to sing!"- Tony

[Modjadji]

Thanks for your replies



Here's something else of mine, on a completely different vein this time...



Poetry sucks



Poetry sucks.

It sucks the life out of you,

Sucks you in

Sucks the marrow from your bones.

It twists you, breaks you,

Pulls your heart onto the page.



Poetry sucks.

It sucks your skin off, leaving you naked.

Are you ashamed?

Poetry sucks you inside yourself,

Shows you the darkest recesses of your mind.

Are you afraid?



Poetry sucks.

It sucks you together till your insides touch,

Curls you up, dries you and leaves you empty.

It moulds you, sculpts you, pulls you out of shape,

Sucks until there’s nothing left,

Sucks until you’re gone.

[SJ]

Good poem

[eveningstar845]

Great poem!

Thanks for sharing.



Dee

[Modjadji]

Thanks for your replies!



This is what a friend has labeled my "femme" poem, but it's actually more about the God bits



Dress-up



‘Mummy and Daddy went to say hi to God’,

Was how it was always explained.

Once a year, the mandatory church meeting,

Holier-than-thou and Sunday best for eight hours straight.



I loved it, because I could see my cousin.

She came to look after me every year.

We would play at dress-up and bubble baths.

I doubted their Lord would have approved.



First she would curl my hair and paint my nails,

Then cover my smooth little face in make-up

And put me in one of her party frocks.

Every moment I wasn’t in dungarees was precious.



We would laugh, and pretend I was a princess

Or a fairy, or a goddess, or a mermaid.

We would eat junk food and listen to Postman Pat;

Have crucial conversations over fruit juice.



Then they would come back every year

And say I looked a darling in my too-big dress,

Before changing me into shorts so I wouldn’t mess,

Cleaning off my make-up with stinging kiddie-soap.



And, of course, I grew too old too fast,

And learnt to like my practical, comfortable clothes,

And took care of myself while they went to pray,

And forsook my juice for coffee, just black.



Perhaps if I had been to those cold meetings

In that mouldy church, I’d see reason for belief,

But the alternative of junk food and laughter

Always seemed the better deal.

No matter how short life may seem, it's still the longest thing you'll ever do.

[SJ]

Great poem