Friday, April 22, 2011

To the Fury of Lives

I just rediscovered this lovely piece I wrote almost two years ago that has since been collecting metaphorical dust in my archives. Have any of you ever looked back at some of your older work and wished that you could write as well as you used to?

I lost her in her haze of glory
entranced by musky melodies,
mixed amongst synthetic sillhouettes.

Wandering wiles, carnivours stare,
silently savouring, appraising;
entering, a skirt provacatively plays
about its smooth, warm partners -
a dancer's legs tentatively sashaying,
brushing past the doors of the den.

Stalactites stab in jerking strobes
of misty rainbow hues, swirling
tongues of flame leaping and swaying,
cavorting to the fanciful winds;
I lost her to the dreamy vortices.

Stirring the cocktail fools hardly
notice the blending fluids. She tastes
the touch of tequila and caresses
the strong orange-skin scents.
Flowing, the throng pulses in
that heady temple of delight.

She succumbs, loses the fight;
I lost her slowly, gently,
pulled by pleasure, seduced
by the kindling of caged senses
in that dark, unseeing womb.

I lost her to primal humanity;
I lost her to an essence of being;
I lost her to the fury of lives;
I lost her to a madness.

I wander while my memories stir;
caressing scented skin. I enter
the comforting darkness, feeling
my being succumb to the fury
of lives. I wait for her rebirth.

Also posted on Big Tent Poetry. More poems.


  1. This poem brought a big aaaaah of admiration.
    And I know exactly what you mean by your preamble. I don't think I've written much worth a second look in recent months.

  2. Wow... It's hot in here... I must go fan myself.


  3. LOL! The poem itself is not funny, it's excellent...but my inability to find words after reading it is. Now laurie's helped me out. Anyone with a pulse would need to fan themselves after reading this.

  4. perfect poem for a chilly rainy day!

    As for your question, sometimes on certain subject I wish I could go back but -

    I'm actually going back to the old poems and revising their forms not the words.(Ok maybe I'll change few words.) But I was reading some old poems yesterday and was not happy with them.

  5. Excellent - change is constant, they say and it surely rings true with writing. This is a lovely piece, to be sure.

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