love tendrils

Our fingers love tendrils knead each other
We fit together as spoons spooning

Your thighs are fleshy with contour and sinew
Gleam with tiny droplets of sweat forming gems of rain

Our tongues flames brand each other beneath the sheets
We speak no words through tapestries of tongues

skin to skin we kindle warm and close
as close as flesh can be
as close as possible…closer…

Taking turns to glide our hands over chest
back and leg hovering like clouds beneath Gods
tucked in the moment body to body!

All hot and passion fruit!
Our lips lock glue for seconds
glue for time we paint with our tongues
eahc body a canvas

sentimental romantic artist
melt the ice
drop
by
drop

we release
bestial peace
we fumble
toss
and turn

we unlearn
inhibition
turn on
midnights eyes

cupping as though
we could drink
from each other
for one thousand years…

(This needs work I wrote.
Fleshed out.
Loved)

For me personally, your poetic voice/style doesn’t “go” with the subject of love; for you to channel your creativity into love is like putting a squid into a big sack - there’s a perculiar kind of restriction at work. I think this piece would’ve worked better in prose form.

[This is the opinion of someone who has love near the bottom of his preference-list of genres.]

I love that it’s so tangible.

A

My voice doesn’t go with the subject of love? perhaps that explains why I have been so unsuccessful in love.

This was more physical love, passion, kissing and hugging and touching…and it did happen. The voice is real. The voice goes…perhaps I could approach i differently…but there is love in my voice…

Cheers liquid! Tangible is always good. It is clear and apparent.

^Your poetic voice; your “prose voice” is fine with love, even for miserable me. And this is only me - I daresay many other people will approve more of your love poetry.

heyo, colinsign got laid!

again, i always appreciate a certain level of fearlessness you have with your writing. it seems you aren’t too worried about breaking some rule or doing something taboo.

my favorite part:

hot…

my unfavorite part:

i feel as if this came into your head and you had to write it. maybe it should stay. i don’t know. it bothered me when i read it connection with the rest of the piece.
see you next time i come to wales. i mean scotland. SHIT

hah! and that was my favorite part… amazing how subjective literature is.

Although I really did like the gem line as well.

Overall, I thought it was a quite nice poem, and something that, judging from some of Colin’s other pieces, isn’t at all incongruous to his themes - they are almost getting cummingian! - I’d venture to say. (Oh that felt good to write, cummingian, hahaha…)–I know Colin gets the farce.

You may however, want to slowly re-read and tweak some of the grammar and spelling you got going on there.

p.s.

The sensousness of this poem did sort of have a cummings feel to it, well at least for me.