To Sir . . . .

To sir . . . .

with love

bridged the interlude between thread binding

and the pulp of biography

where I could stretch my undefined feathers

beyond the diminutive  aurulent  clasp of my own journals

to imbibe  the treasures of myrrh

with keen nostrils flared

eat the poppy from the inside cheeks of clever men

the vellum and spice of them in honey on my stains

my voracious eyes

and blind girl hands

coveting their amorous dangers;

this little girl in a sundress

with a woman lean under a parasol

sipping Kamoun and mint tea

through my invisible Parisian veil

under a British sun

while my body remembered the old maze

of Morocco

as Sir

tipped his fedora

and plated me with love

and ease

on a spread of Halwa Shebakia

during the month of Ramadan

when love should have been

but for a god. . . .

but we are simply human

with warm blood and warmer sighs

after all

and it’s okay

to be so

for the books in the pyre tell me so

they love me so

To Sir

with Love

tattooed

on the inside

of my dreaming lids

slipping through my jade(d) eyes . . . .

hush me now

dear sir

make this kiss

a lullaby. . . .

 

copyright:2011vssmd/amusemusepress

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Author's Note

kamoun~cumin
Halwa Shebakia are cookies eaten during the month of Ramadan~

Reviews

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

@Ordunoi~ I don't need to astonish my readers with abstract esoteric writings~ my readers possess expansive imaginative interprative skills with which to own the poem for themselves~ seems like someone's limited by their own diction and by their own inability to expand their conceptual thinking parameters~ you should have stopped reading when it began to disappont you~ the subtle b***h slap didn't work~ but my block button does~ =)~ bite me

[JelliFyshKissUs]

It seems like each time I read the story of Selene I am left feeling I was not told the half. How many sides to you are there? How many layers of you have peeled away to reveal what I know of Selene now and how many are left? And it seems whatever skin is seen with eyes, it is not nearly as beautiful as the next. YOU ARE A BOOK, A TALE, A NOVEL.... and I enjoy turning the page and reading you.

[Kenneth The Poet]

A gut and balls punch to the pineal gland.

[Aidz]

got me at tattoo'd on the inside..... a tale spun in the golden days of dreaming

[Lilly Negoi]

a lullaby it is indeed Selene :). your undefined feathers stretch anyway so far that few could even dream to reach with their minds :).

[Antonio Valentino]

as Sir

tipped his fedora

and plated me with love

and ease


To Sir

with Love

tattooed

on the inside

of my dreaming lids


luv this, luv you..
:)

[Doug Ordunio]

I think there are some interesting phrases in this that seem to work, but it reads like a catalog of esoterica whose being is intended to astonish the reader by its variety, and by the time I arrived at the end, I had to ask, 'What does it all mean?"--really...

[*~*Butterfly Kisses*~*]

So much beautiful romance for complex piece like this. Loving, and inspiring. Brilliant masterpiece.

[Demi Rose]

holds me tightly. loved how u penned it.

[Jūdan FyreHeart]

It twists and sings of a beautiful romance draped elegantly in the treasured corner of a mind, softly pressed between the memories of dreamy fantasies. Savoured during the icy greys, and empowering the fresh burst of spring.