word thief

"...esque "

those who think you can steal
simply lifting words from words
they are unaware of the intimate, sexual relation
between the poet and the poem
the tale of two bodies lying stark naked in the bed
streams of love, moments guilty of it.

love leaves traces in the bodies
on bare arms, breasts and the legs
love can allow separation
love isn't however sold in flea markets.

therefore thousands and thousands of thieves
yearning a bit of love
those who haven't witnessed naked bodies ,
made love in the comforts of bedsheets, linens
they can never be poets
in candle lights they may ruminate over nights
that never happened
their bodies will whimper in such rigorous discipline
brimmed up in thunderstorms
is the best they may ever achieve.

relationships and existence have fought prehistoric wars
may I not fall in love with you without knowing your name?
Can i not remain crazy after your pair of eyes?
isn't it possible that your bare breasts gave me comfort on sultry winter noons?
your lips red in powder colors
you cried,
you cried when I gifted you, white roses
you barely asked
"you won't leave me on an unknown afternoon, will you?"

I will stay yours
thieves may steal
but I will keep loving you
without thinking of preservation.


© Nothing Personal. April 14, 2011.

Reviews

[Siddhartha]

This is one of your best pieces NP. You bring forth the troubled love between an artist and his vocation beautifully. the insecurity, fear of irrevocable thievery and the never ending love is wonderfully articulates here. This strikes a personal chord and is so relatable. Just love this.

[arbitrary jane]

sorry to put this here, but
for some reason
i can never see anything on your page.
i have to wait for someone to review something of yours and then i can jump on board... i can't seem to comment either. or send messages...
it's been driving me crazy!

and this is an amazing poem. .. in case i didn't make that clear. :)

[arbitrary jane]

how we chase after words, blind-loving. how they fill and carry us through days when they flow unchecked. and how we are spent and breathless when - on odd, rare, magical days - we and our words are one and the same.
riveting write.
'may i not fall in love with you without knowing your name?'... the wistful ardency of that line will hang over me for a while.

[Kerry O'Connor]

they are unaware of the intimate, sexual relation
between the poet and the poem
the tale of two bodies lying stark naked in the bed
streams of love, moments guilty of it....

This is such a "Boss" description... and we're all kicking ourselves we didn't think of it first... Great work.

[Chloe..Across the Unive..]

So very clever- making words, poetry a lover...
This also makes me think of those who do steal words for
their own .. well written .

Chloe

[FocusedAmnesia]

This is just so beautiful.

[Crowley]

Yowwwzah....this was really good. The comparison of the relationship was magnificent and so true. Traces my friend, always traces, put them in your pocket and use them for ammuniton to calm your desperation when things get a litle thick. Loved this.

[Moflo]

Very interesting perspective...I guess as poets we do have a relation with our work which can be equated to sexual. Very strong piece, I like that analogy a lot.