Viola Viscera

We set foot on dry grass at the cockcrow
of a nascent union.
Cheek to cheek as Cupid towers over,
shooting arrows at a dyad fire drape,
gliding through the tundras of charred weeds,
fin-like petals quake beneath our feet.
A scorching sun unloads its savage heat in torrents,
thermal downpours drench the wedlock seam,
blisters left on Sinai soul mate psyches,
rain shadow or bajada by the bye!
Aphrodite’s children herald desert pampas flatland,
teether on phlogiston’s manic figment, cauterized rock ribs,
raw emotion rivulets ablaze.                                          Firebrands of first flush exhale  tectonic vapour.                      Plumes of tropic passion wrap us Madagascar parrots,
trill and troll sidekicks hyperbolic crystal vent,  
showing off those feathers under garnet crayon parchment.                                

Sweat profuse garments reek of clammy cuddles,  tie-dye shred, torn, strung loose upon the limbs of incandescent flames.                                                                             Cindered patch exposure  on nubile skein without a balm. Soaptree yucas toe hold ring fence rapids gauche gurgle.      Ocean froth sidemen canvass  cherry blossom sweethearts, lilting hearth glow scarlet passage quiver.                             Knotted woodlands understory,                                           nuptial suite earthen node foundation.      
Eternal palms outstretch,                                                             love puppets on a compass point astride some boundless needle.                                                                                    Viola viscera, songbird incarnate, bow to my enchanted fiddle.   Together forever, alone at last.

 

Medal winning podium first place entry Poetry Soup 6th March 2020
and third place medal winner on Poetry Soup 22nd November 2021


Comments

Mohamed Sarfan's picture
Dear Poeter, I feel the experience of reading an innovative poem. Realities are like a dim light, the silences of time in the minutes that speak to the mind explore the expectations of life. Some grammars, like the blossoming of a flower or the shedding of a leaf in a market of life in which memories and facts determined by moments are collected, emit to us the grip and disgust on life. This poem really impressed me. All The Best My Dear Friend; Write More Congratulations

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