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

[sivan]

This poem is awe inspiring.... so pleased to have read it this morning

[Robin]

crystalline notes sparkle upon vellum , you present a treasure from your heart , to sweep our imaginations into a sensate diorama . the aura of the red city , the iconic fedora topping monsieur , and of course the girl - human yet delicately wrapped in the brocade of a surreal timescape as we imbibe a spice melange to join her under a rare sunbeam , to close our eyes and listen to silent lyrics , liquid braille poured in your indelible ink .

[FireWoman]

A brush of love up against your heart in an unrefined world that has too many social dos & don'ts. Me thinks the two will meet again on a higher plane of existence and giggle at the uncivilized world below.

[John Jackson (El Juero)]

Many plot that all lead to love.
Lush and vivid pictures dance in my mind.

[OT]

a twisty type of poem as only you can do - the inclusion of different histories - ideas - traditions - wrapped in a surreal blanket - an amalgamation of construction and humanity - I like! nice!

[Reese38]

Jane's correct, this is huge.

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


For the human quality, for the descriptive prowess. for the heart that built this poem. Not a day goes by that you don't effect someone deeply.

The opening has the gentle air of something powerful building its own storm underneath. And you deliver the strikes and the calm after the rain, like few other could even dream of doing.

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

[arbitrary jane]

'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'

the hugeness of this section here. the transcendence of love, the invisible mirror between human connection and the relationships of god in all his inscrutability. i hear rumi and hafiz and all the desert lovers blooming flowers under endless heavens. the idea of a mingling of exalted individualities....
reading this felt like watching a time-lapse dance of a leaf unfurling. ... exquisite.

[Rikkevi Rue]

ahhh but isn't this just a contented sigh basking in the warm light of your poetic sun. Like a nostalgic dream of a magic time when cares were away and the piquant clarity of the moments light and color flooded ones senses like warm caramel to a child at a fair...sentient words send my mind time traveling into the pleasant highlights and shadows of the past. A new favorite is this

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

Do I sense a May-September romance being played out in verse... you are always so cleaver in your references that you keep me on my toes and re-reading over and over.

[SkinlessFrank]

I feel the desert heat and smell the hookah bar in this, the love forbidden.