it was true.....
in nights blackened by sins of the day
she stole silently into the vermillion chambers of his heart
where all his treasures he kept
treasures he shared with but few
and then, only because he had to
and he did have to
share
because without sharing
his magnificent vermillion chamber
would surely burst
explode
rip apart
from the weight
the weight of all his magnificent thoughts
thoughts that like a caterpillar became even more magnificent
thoughts that magnificently became magnificent words
words
ah, his words
words of the wizard
the word wizard
words that stirred in her things inexplicable
things unknown
unseen
unfelt
before
words
words that erupted in her soul like a volcano too long dormant
words that once read – once heard –
left her wanting
wanting more
and more still
words that soon became her crystalline clarity
her drug of choice
her fix
words that she had to have
words that her soul would have slept with satan to have
words that her heart would have – must have – else lose its beat
and so it was that on those sin blackened nights
she stole silently into that vermillion chamber of the word wizard’s treasures
there - where she languished among the tender mercies of his gentleness
there - where she basked in the intellectual brilliance of his mind
there - where she opened wide her womancave for the roving words of his passion
there - where she lay with him in fields of crimson poppies as he mouthed words of love
there - where she became who she had always been
there
there in the vermillion chambers of his heart
there - where she found what she craved
what she could not
would not
live without
there
where she was his
and his alone
yes – there
there
where
she
was
his
word whore
.
.
.
- to all those magnificent words that gently wing their way here from far far away -
.
.
.
12 comments:
Great post, welcome back doll.
agus tú, a stór a dhuine uasail, agus tú -
focail a dhéanamh do bheatha m'anam -
I suddenly feel very lonely!
Pearl
oh, pearl, lonely?????
wonderful to have you come by - your visits are always welcome here! and i thank you for coming all this way!
Your poetry is always filled with such passion and imagery- love it
Lovely.
So, I see ye's are getting fond of the Gaelic then?
:¬)
xxx
thank you so much YEE for your kind words - but i think all of life/love is filled with passion and imagery for and from us all - great to see you - thanks again for your visit!
and dear mistermap! your visits and kind words always such a bright spot at the gypsy camp for which i thank you - and of the gaelic, well, yes, 'tis true, sir, i do lately find myself drawn closer and closer still to the language of my roots - a magnificently beautiful language that speaks in many different ways to my heart -
hope all is well with you and yours in the maphouse - hugs to all -
Caramba, chica! Beautifully done.
Hope the road trip is fun and filled with synchros!
- Trish, also a buddy of nica's
oh, thanks so much lady trish! nica and i both loved putting this together!!! ;)
looking and waiting for roads of sunshine - rather than this dismal dark rainy stuff going on today! so perhaps smooth sailing for manana! ;)
So here you are, back with a beautiful poem... you simply could not stay away! :-)
Today my heart is made of ice, a must against all that snow falling in a perpetual silent whisper. You ever heard that whisper from the falling snow? All around you, everything pure white, perpetual white, unending white, freezing white, killing white!
I went out for a walk in the woods, unending woods made of pine trees and fir trees and naked birch trees and maple trees. Ominous silence of this whisper... how can a whisper be silent? But there it is, the perpetual whisper of the snow in the utterly silent forest.
I could have lost myself, except that I can't get lost in a forest, it's in the genes...
No adieu to you gypsy woman. A heart of ice...
you are right, of course, roger, i can never really totally stay away and not for long if i can help it at all - however, being back and forth between places of my own makes for a sometimes irregular presence - it's so odd your note here of whispers and the silence of them - while you were sending that comment, i was posting a little thing over at words unspoken using that same concept - the sound of silence - your description of your time in the pure white silence is just beautiful - i know from whence you speak of that silent whisper - thanks so much for coming by - and no adieu to you, either! ;)
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