A Thief of Nature

A moon caught in your throat
Little bells ringing out
Solus sanctus
Enthralled to stillness.
There are many ways you pretend
To be still, and still you move
Shivers chasing my tongue
Fingers breaking the secret
Supplicating eternal upon my skin
New legs brushing the voice of history into prayer.
What wholeness!
Tongue wrapped around your man poem
Recital that understands perfection.
I steal those tones.
In my hand – our lives
Those moments of natures expansive intimacy –
Those moments never last.

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Those Divine Lips

On public display,
A beauty veiled,
The paradise vale,
Cusps, cups and ridge,
A black galaxy hanging over,
The white springs of life,
Mount desert Sinai,
Those divine lips,
Oh Moses, O’ Joseph, O you,
Kiss, caress and drink,
Seek, see and listen,
The eternal words,
Truth, beauty and god!

by @JosepEgypt

This beautiful poem, inspired by the image above, was written by a Twitter friend, who was kind enough to share it with me and to allow me to share it with you all.

The Hearts Wine

Like a king the soulbird sits, on a branch
governing this weeping silence.

There is an awakening
falling in to this space of
borrowed grass whispers

and shared fences painted
like naked lover, back turned and eyes shut fast.

He is a noble man filled with sugary words
and candy smiles. She be lady in waiting,
latte’ sipping, red lips dipping,
nail polished tips – no splitting.

Between them, half filled glasses
measure words half spoken,
thoughts, half shared.

Now, be silent.

Do you hear the heartstrings
spilling passion upon this grass.
Lavish stories laid down on your ear.

There is a flowing of stories
when you let silence mingle
with the wine of your heart.

 

 

(c) A Hannan

 

 

Lipstick: the muse II

 

She paints prayers with your Lust
Red ochres rising, from her earth
Crushed petals veiling laughter
Over sweet nights cried back to her soil
And blinking back mascaraed lashes
A summer sun, a mirror hung
From ripened breasts.

Blessed, your eyes
Shadowed by two birds
Heavy and thoughtful, suicide
Upon her body of life.
Balanced here, passion a calm moon
Placed before a kiss.

At the moment of entry
Your palm, laden with Jewels
Of pink and red, a bold perfection
Angel’s furnished from her womb
And your fingers over her lips
Each a pilgrim in prayer
Returning season after season.

 

 

(c) A Hannan

 

 

 

Lipstick: the muse

I pressed my lips to his
A kiss of stamen birthed to rising sun
Swollen, ripe
Curves of bliss traverse landscapes
Painted, to match the flower
Enticing man to virgin breasts.

 

 

(c) A Hannan

 

The history of lipstick can be traced back as far as 5,000 years when semi-precious jewels, plants, ants and seaweed were used to colour the lips red, pink or deep brown. Its origins, although prone to contradictions, often undiscussed and unadmitted, were of an erotic manner. For thousands of years the mouth has been considered the most sensual part of a woman’s face and woman have relished in exploiting this power by decorating and enhancing, colouring the lips to match the labia. Although, lipstick is not merely seductive. Depending on the colour and shape of the lip line, lipstick is also a symbol of power, of sophistication, of rebellion, of courage, of optimism and more.

Note: The stamens in a flower are collectively called the androecium (from Greek andros oikia: man’s house)

Unfolding the Sun

 

Let a woman’s heart be a sphere,
And the soul of a man
That moves between her lips and her heart,
Devotion, a brave flower whose fragrance
Fresh, embroidered wishes
Into her soil.  Dreams

Shepard birds to her hips where,
Vines like united souls twine,
Oath-ed to his temple mount,
She gives songs borne of his fruit.

Let the Beloved’s imagination twist
A song from her face –
The magic of a poets verse
Gracefully hanging from her kiss,
Stars, guilty of dust and all the joys
Of love colouring an innocent sky

And taking a subdued path
With a borrowed promise,
A gentle rising,
Until, the veil wakes
And awake before the eyes of lovers
All stands open.

Enchanted, of the sweetest elixir
A soul to his soul
When her heart bends eastward
Calling to dawn, in prayer
He, the rising sun…

 

 

© A Hannan

 

For Kellie’s ‘Wish Jar’ http://magicinthebackyard.wordpress.com/the-wish-jar/