Moonlight
like a cold
damp
trembling finger
traces slowly the line
of my defiant jaw
set firm
as my eyes pen lines
too imprecise
for timid hearts
sunk deep
in the soft
down of you
i nearly rest
unaffected
intention suppressed
instinct undetected
until in dreamlight
resolute promises
flicker like worn filmstrips
counting down steady
seconds till the show
your smile flashes fast
innocent like the beckoning
curve of your breasts
until the cold
rivers of truth flow
unchecked and remind
I like the interplay in the poem, and how I am asking myself if the action is real or imagined. Writing by moonlight seems like a romantic endeavor, and I think many of us writers, whether we admit it freely or not, get hung up on romance in one form or another.
Anyway, I like the way this slowly unfolds from the in to out- how we often encounter the world. And again, really digging the moon imagery here:
the stiff jaw...the resistance..and then---the giving in..she is beautiful...she is beckoning...resistance wearing down...in that damp moonlight..audacity camps in my veins tonight...i am brash, i am crazy, but i am going to love this woman...i no longer want to "nearly" rest...i want to rest for real.
Mmm...this is quite stunning. I am sensing a little bit of sensual sorcery in your words this eve, my friend. Moonlight has a way of doing that to us, I suppose. I always get a little more frisky when the moon is full and the ocean breezes are calling. Anyway, back to your work...
Great imagery. The moonlight and the imagery describing the writer alone is beautiful enough to keep me happy for the evening (as watching someone write is probably the most interesting and sensual thing that I can imagine), but then you go on to the latter part of the poem with just blazes with imagery of its own. Well done. Keep them coming!!!
Hopefully you find something in some of my words here...If not, there is beauty in the music (which is not mine, clearly). Listen....always listen. more..