Adonis in Dreamscape --First Revision ~~tweaked Options

[azurepoetry]

1st Revision ~~tweaked (thank you Liz and Snow)

Somewhere--
where chimney smoke dots the distance
in synaptic gaps, like memory loss in warm rolling meadows, I tango

with the sun matching my every step.
Our growing heat--a fever un-indexed on any chart--
warms my neck as meadowlarks

sing warnings to intruders. I pause
in rehearsed mid-curve of a dip
to slip myself off; upside-down, the blue sky

becomes a cloudy skipping stone path
along a zen azure river bed.
Someone crosses that rarefied stream; meadowlarks

scatter and soar into those rapid currents to drown,
as the timothy grass above
bows and parts like hair yielding to watery eyes. He arrives

hunkered and stalking; the sun
returns to its rightful place; released,
I twist and fall onto my knees.

The wind offers burning incense:
cherry-wood and ripened blackberries
from the undergrowth of his kinky hair.

His indefatigable arms,
with sun-kissed skin, gather me up--
wildflowers bunched to his bare chest

in one motion; I stare at thin scars on his stomach
while his breath--
a Snowy Owl's stuttering wingtip-- brushes me.

My trembling fingers crawl inside his hands: hands
dewy and deathless as the Earth
that receives us all in our due turn.

We spin.

Where did you come from, O Beautiful One? The ancient capital
of Nineveh, by way of Lesbos and Sappho's revered verse,
only to descend into my arms...maybe...

pivoting, his dark myrrhic eyes betray his intentions,
and I feel my breasts heave and sigh, as our rush
blurs grass and sky,

until colours fracture, fall
and form iridescent steps to Aphrodite's throne. We ascend the clouds;
I half expect feathers to tear from his back, during our dance.

We drift.

I kiss him before he condenses and falls like rain,
returning back to the soft ground.
His blood slowly thickens into a bed of red roses

that are plucked
by young, barefoot maidens in flowing, virginal dresses
who have come far to worship our passing beauty.

I wake.

The sun bestows me red rows through my window in consolation;
I grin at those fresh flowers filling the kitchen vase,
while my husband, awake early, smiles coyly
and burns myrrh incense.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Original

Somewhere--
where chimney smoke dots the distance
in synaptic gaps, like memory loss in warm rolling meadows, I tango

with the sun matching my every step.
Our growing heat--a fever un-indexed by any chart--
warms my neck as meadowlarks

sing warnings to intruders, while I pause
in rehearsed mid-curve of a dip
to slip off myself; upside-down, the blue sky

becomes a cloudy skipping stone path
along a zen azure river bed. Something
crosses that rarefied stream; I see

the meadowlarks scatter and fly into those rapid currents to drown,
as the timothy grass above
bows and parts like hair yielding to watery eyes. He arrives

hunkered and stalking; the sun
returns to its rightful place; released, I twist and fall onto my knees.
The wind offers burning incense:

pine needles and ripened blackberries
from the undergrowth of his kinky hair.

His arms,
indefatigable, with sun-kissed skin, gather me up--
wildflowers bunched to his bare chest

in one motion; I stare at the thin scars on his stomach
while his breath--
a Snowy Owl's wingtip brushing a white rabbit--surrounds me.

My shaky fingers crawl inside his hands, hands
dewy and deathless as the Earth
that receives all of us in our due turn.

We spin.

Where did you come from, O Beautiful One? The ancient capital
of Nineveh, by way of Lesbos and Sappho's revered verse,
only to descend into my arms...maybe...

pivoting, his dark myrrhic eyes betray his intentions,
and I feel my breasts heave and sigh, as our rush
blurs grass and sky,

until colours fracture and fall
like iridescent steps to Aphrodite's throne. We ascend past the clouds;
I half expect feathers to tear from his back, during our dance.

We drift.

I kiss him before he condenses and falls like rain,
returning back to the soft ground.
His blood slowly coagulates into a bed of red roses

that are plucked
by young barefoot maidens in flowing virginal dresses
who have come far to worship our passing beauty.

I wake.

The sun offers me red rows through my window in consolation;
I grin at those fresh flowers filling the kitchen vase,
while my husband, awake early, smiles coyly
and burns myrrh incense.


**Inspired by Nina's poem: I Want to Disappear **

[azurepoetry]

Cleo,

My absolute apologies on my tardy reply. Since time has expired, I will send a permission e-mail for next month if that is an option. I have had my time absorbed outside of the virtual world.

Silhouetting is a great suggestion. Intone I will have to consider, since meadowlarks actually sing warning songs to other possible intruders (esp. other meadowlarks, when mating is intended).

Thanks you again for your kind comments and suggestions, I promise to try and come to a concluding version on this poem. I have just written one poem, between this and now...if that tells you my loss for creation. On the other hand, reading has been my best friend.

~Tim/azurepoetry