The Poets Hand

 

I waited the other side of dawn
A naked flower for company
Knowing not the scent of your woods
Or the wounded wail of your fields.

I waited the other side of night
Hoarding the glow of dusk,
Drowsy in its golden sheen
Limbs, innocent as lilies.

This nuptial, my native fervor
Hung on Venus, awaiting
The sleepy flames of passion ripe,
Enamored in the poets hand.

You hold the Queen
Lit with a festive star, northward
Follow the rim of my wine glass,
Witness the frigid petals, rouged with faith
At last drawing apart.

(c) A Hannan

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6 thoughts on “The Poets Hand

  1. ‘I waited the other side of night
    Hoarding the glow of dusk,
    Drowsy in its golden sheen
    Limbs, innocent as lilies.’ — perfect..your choice of words capture so much tension and raw emotion

  2. Bringing Jars to Love’s Spring

    I, a jasmine valley lost amid mounts
    Waited for the river of your hair
    To etch into my flow of purity
    The musk and amber of heart.

    For ages lingering before the embrace
    Of dawn and dusk at the still hour of love
    And wondering about you, casting bottles at sea,
    Letters on pigeon wings, beacons of heart.

    In this vineyard cultivated by the monks
    Of sun’s monastery, our wedding song
    Glistening on cheeks of rings and wine cups
    Rises to fullness, flushing lips with lovers’ poetry.

    Blue moon lilies, a bed on forest’s floor
    Rises our love at night to heaven’s starry dome
    Whence our sighs, dewing, wash the Garden of Hearts
    Holding the world with faith, a belt of flowers.

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