Divinity: of The Waters

There never were the slightest flaw

In the rose.

 

I quickly exile a dissipating breath,

Stifle the flight of swans,

Reflect ancient floods

And where the streams meet

Veins, rivaling the moons charm,

Saving the sweetest kiss beneath the flower.

 

Of inspiration

I lift the empty glass skyward,

She parts my vapid vision

Piercing my mute witness,

The smooth horizon breaks,

Waters cluster in harmony

An endless song laughing in waves.

She is divinity, chasing my caramel skin,

Spreading adultery over the contour

Of my sunset stained breasts.

Beauty is entwined in this embrace, stripped

Of voice she, idolatrous drum solo

Seared across ancient desert dunes

Tracing rumours until their flame dies.

 

Passion, all but rouged bursts from the figs heart

A frenzy of tears, now that I am ripe

Let the savage bliss of God’s bouquet

Frame my blessed sin, one delicate finger,

Mouth open in flight, poised,

The petals of a rose mingled into a disheveled kiss.

 

 

Anahita – The Ancient Persian Goddess of fertility, healing and wisdom… the divinity of ‘the Waters’.

 

 

 

(c) A Hannan

Inspired by the post ‘Arianrhod’ here: Shining City On The Hill

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