A Small River

Sometimes a poem feels as though it existed in another realm before God allowed my pen to birth it... This is one. Enjoy!

 

 I only want a woman whom my Lord has touched.

 

 

 After waiting and asking, fasting, praying and dreaming, crying and believing I was made aware of her.

 

 

 

The mortal photograph of my love and the present owner of my heart,

 

 

she is the manifestation of the moment in my life where time took its last breaths...

 

 

It t

ruly was the most attractive form of death.

 

 

 

I don't need to live with air.

 

 

Just the mood that God poured within the fragrance He smeared through her flesh,

 

 

its like the voice of silence.

 

 

I use to wish that I could repaint her past.

 

 

Removing every hurt, drying the tears and tearing each hateful statement in half and then I'd wash her hair...

 

 

Taking away every memory of the moments when she was lonely, demeaned, unappreciated or sad 

 

 

and 

 

 

dry her hair with passages of Scriptures and my poems just to plant within her mind an irrefutable notion.

 

 

That there exist nothing more brilliant, nothing more strong, nothing more artistic than she is.

 

 

She is...

 

 

Far more gorgeous than beautiful way more intelligent than genius.

 

 

Before I met her she was dreamt in my mind, 

 

 

loving her feels like praying because like a towel in an ocean she is drenched with God,

 

 

her eyes aren't stars but worlds that fingertips or footprints shall never touch 

 

 

however 

 

 

they can be visited shortly after her artistry is beheld,

 

 

I hope to gaze into her face because with an insatiable amount of excitement I imagine the story it will tell,

 

 

if I could share this journey with her it would be way more fun,

 

 

I'm trying to conjure up an idea that will allow me her,

 

 

still she is throughly beautiful and multifarious so forever could never be long enough.

 

 

I long to touch her... Soul with my ears and her spirit with an archaic love.

 

 

She holds virtue like the day sky does stars,

 

 

only being dispensed or seen once called upon or heard.

 

 

He speaks the most lovely pieces of art.

 

 

Just by making her God is the most amazing painter to depict such beauty...

 

 

He is the greatest musician to compose the temperature of her voice, color of her crying and her scent of laughter...

 

 

The man that she allows to invest his life within her will experience a lifetime of comely answers.

 

 

I no longer wish that I could repaint her past for it was those dark times, uncertain days and loathed nights that designed the masterful portrait that sits within these brown eyes.

 

 

I often ask myself... 

 

 

"Why?"

 

 

Why did the 9 y.o. me dream of her?

 

 

Why does everything about her fascinate me and I want to learn, discern, and know...

 

 

Her?

 

 

I love her mind so I don't need an interpreter.

 

 

 I want to hold her...

 

 

Not like a cuddle or like one does after making love but I want to hold her in my soul like a soothing night vision to the tormented mind of Van Gough 

 

 

or 

 

 

like a fleeting color thats rhythmic God loosed and allowed it to be captured by Thelonious Monk,

 

 

maybe like the hand holds fingers or the ears touch songs.

 

 

I just want to caress her, 

 

 

armless...

 

 

The same as the sky does the sun.

 

 

Like the canvas grabs the brush or just like a child knows love, 

 

 

without ever appearing to understand or even notice that which their minds touch.

 

 

Some days I just desire to inhale a glimpse of the child inside of her,

 

 

to me she is the woman whom my Lord has touched.

 

 

Although being within her is a phenomenon that I would like to know it means more to me just to sit beside and feel the blossoming of her mind as she and I converse. 

 

 

I want her in my life until eternity ends even after time decides to retire,

 

 

since this is between she and I the name I will call her won't be her name exactly but rather one of its meanings...

 

 

"A small river. "

 

 

This is the muse that slowly crawled covering every inch of my mind like the roots of an Oak then it stood tall like a Sequoia, 

 

 

it pleasantly saturated my senses and anointed my intellect like redemption to a missing soul. 

 

 

Rather than questioning why I didn't know her sooner I relax in the privilege that she is here now and I am thankful.

 

 

I've become a better man since sitting beside... 

 

 

"A small river."

 

 

 

Reviews

[C.R. Moore "Lasla"]

Marvin an excellent write and expression and vivid metaphors!!!
I was moved by this not in Rocked my world sense but a sense of contentment on your soul and what dreams we dream we are creatures of dreams and dreams make our reality.
I really liked this line it struck me as thought and a vision !

it pleasantly saturated my senses and anointed my intellect like redemption to a missing soul.

Again excellent write my friend very deep also!

Blessings
Lasla

[Michael X]

Epic and romantic, spiritual romance, it is a soulful poem Marvin!

[Autumn Lyric]

Really enjoyed this poetic journey of such lovely expressions...Thank you for sharing

[JadedSparrow]

Its been some time and I picked this particular poem of yours at random. Let me say that I am very happy I stopped by.


"I only want a woman whom my Lord has touched.
After waiting and asking, fasting, praying and dreaming, crying and believing I was made aware of her.
The mortal photograph of my love and the present owner of my heart,
she is the manifestation of the moment in my life where time took its last breaths..."

These opening lines were in one word, magnificent. I enjoyed the entire piece, but those were my favorite. My only suggestion would be a format change, maybe remove some of the spaces between the lines. You never cease to amaze me. Excellent as always.

JS

[Cathy]

Wow, you have certainly been blessed with a wonderful gift. Thank you for sharing. You will touh many with your God given gifts.

[Kena Dawn Augustine]

It was sort of long, but WOW you are an amazing, gifted, prolific writer, as you know. can't wait for your book to drop. this poem, each line, is like a poem in itself. full of substance and metaphors and meaning. i loved it, i'm going to favorite the piece. you keep writing. i'd say you and emma are a few of the best writers here on this site. you make my poetry look weak. lol. good job.