A Woman Primordial

The black magic night had a dreaming heart.

Her indigo eyes were brimming with dew.

Her waterfall hair was like velvet art

cascading darkly along banks of blue.

She shimmered in onyx and lazuli,

dripping dark diamonds with orchid fire,

that sparkled like sinews of sorcery

in a storm-swell of stardust and desire.

A gleaming crescent rose behind her ear,

casting her body into silhouette;

and she whispered on wind for all to hear

a song of pleasure that was moist and wet.

She ran along the cliff of the ocean.

Her eyes were scanning the breadth of the shore;

and nothingness gave way to devotion:

a woman primordial evermore.

Her eyes were beaming with a dreaming look.

The drug of his kiss was succulent, sweet;

and the more he gave that much more she took

until she was suffused, sated, surfeit.

With sinuous ease, she awakened fire

until the god of legend was ashes

and flung to the void with a savage ire

among the thunder and lightning flashes.

She filled her eyes with the salt of the sea.

An ichor of sky was coursing her veins;

and her lashes sprang forth topography

that glowed green beneath the trembling rains.

She deliquesced into glittering lace

loomed in the silence of every man

whose eyes sank into her sea-washed face

where the wide rivers and rivulets ran.

Sometimes the tide rises into the moon,

and darkness curls into a raven’s wings.

The sea sips silence from a silver spoon

whose breath is a spirit that blithely sings.

Her lips are pressed against the softest cheek.

Her heart is nestled on the ocean floor,

and I am bound as a myth to the Greek -

a woman primordial evermore.

Author's Note

Reviews

[Chris]

I paused in mid-read remembering a Flamenco Dancer I breathed in San Juan ...Puerto Rica. Her imagery and reality fit your depiction to a "T". I. Was. There. ...again. The music and vibrancy - motion, emotion... beauty... and I breathed and came back. Seems morning IS where you find it ...and eyes myst naturally too.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

such a well crafted poem full of feeing and colour and descriptive metaphors that strip desire back to its primordial bones.

[Brett Moore]

Oh my. This is masterful. The last stanza! All of it really. The word choices and images are superb! Have you published?

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you. A few things published in venues here and there but nothing as stupendous as a published book of my own.

[Brett Moore]

Well, if you have the inclination, there are those of us who would support great poetry with our hard earned money.

[Lydia Shutter]

Absolutely haunting. I found myself getting lost in the rhyme. Your choice of vocabulary is stellar. Magical romance. Just wonderful. Lydi**

[BlackPrince]

This is a very wonderfully written poem. It feels magical, with ethereal quality in its vivid and captivating imagery. The use of rhyme here flows naturally, complementing content with concept and context.

WELL DONE

[Thepensiveplayer]

Such a brimming and captivating piece you've written here. It compels me to read more of your writing because of how well you can express yourself. I'm looking forward to reading more of your work. Keep it up

[icelandicblue]

This haunts and enthralls me. Your rhyming is entrancing. I was curious lazuli, what would the rhyme be, and then there it was. Your words are so smooth, a susurrus penned in chiaroscuro. I've missed reading them.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you so much for the warm review. You have always been one of my favorite writers here at the Café so a review from you is treasured indeed.

[Alfred Kukitz]

Here beaneath the veneer of radom’s ways I cast my eyes on black friday’s day. Coincidence, magic that I found the light that this black day bears and find the siren from random’s touch.

Regards,
Al

[Josie E. Cook M. A.]

These colors are weaved finely with your words about desire and romance!
Love the graphic with this one, too.
Wonderful structure that brings forth the emotions to feel as one reads your penned thoughts about this scene etched in time with your imagery.

[Ken Simm.]

It takes the gifted to write such a romance of tones and colours.