Is there anyone Like You?

When one sees a lovely entity, far, far beyond the presence it existed once, twice, thrice or even more in some types of conscious/subconscious retrospections. The presence has some pull tangibility.

Is there anyone Or anything like you?

 

Is it the Gorgeous curves and guitar-hipped, super-model?

Whose sides are winding symmetries, curvier Than the orbit of Venus?

Whose fierce Beauty can swallow Sirius' intense glitters in the sky?

Whose catlike Walking, stealthier than Leopard's footfalls In the green Meadows;

    Or 'upon emerald clothed Amazon, or Sun-baked-steps in black safari.

 

Is it the ocean, Who has borne wavy babies in her belly?

     Whose soft cries and moans gently thump Over the sun-warmed shore?

       Their numberless kisses in it�"only The Eternal can count,

 Whose snowy tint and cotton-skinned dears are Sometimes too delirious?

     Or, noisily happy, or just sorely happy; to hug and buss, the scar beneath the sky.

 

Is it the verdant Hills who borne gazillions of Green Beryl?       

Whose green tresses stand aloft among others Else’ when dancing?

   There Supple waists and dangling tips absorb the naughty kisses from cooler breeze.

Whose cup-like form swells like full-breasted Mound in Divine’s hand?

   Or just A metaphor or simile of earth’s swelling breast--capped by the palms

    Of God so divine.

 

Alas! Alas! None of them satisfies.

 

You are what you are:

 

The gorgeous curved and Guitar-hipped super-model

Whose fierce beauty can swallow Sirius' intense glitters in the sky.

The ocean who borne Wavy babies in her belly,

   Whose numberless kisses only the Eternal can Count.

The verdant hills who borne Gazillions of green Beryl

  Who Forms like a cup that swells�"a full-breasted mound in Divine’s hand.

A metaphor or simile of earths swelling Breasts--capped by the palms

  Of God oh so divine.

Author's Note

Is this a contemporary one? I like lots of criticism for this piece w/o too much killing me. Thanks

Reviews

[Pryde Foltz]

The guitar-hipped supermodel is a grand metaphor and love the way you sing this magnificent ode to your lady-love and then give us a stanza of recap. It helps the reader to absorb all the beauty that you have written.