Culinary Masterpiece

smooth black serving dish on
nubby turquoise linen
long graceful fingers slide
steaming breasts of
exquisite culinary artistry onto
centre stage
rustling of verdant parslied curtains
brushed aside by
mounding attaches in parade dress
sienna's drizzling from the height of fancy

slight tinkling ring of expensive wine glasses
poured and filled with clearly delicate eau-de-vie
ringing of one urgent moment's opportunity
nervous footsteps hurrying to join destined voices

gently smiling faces ripple on clear blue waters of
smoothly flowing rivers with
softest beds of grasses lining all the banks

rising celsius temperatures vibrate earthy drawn emotions as
steamy veiled intentions rise from polite conversations like
undulating rhythms from glimmering mirages in desert regions
of the heart

murmured sounds of gracefulness mix with ringing, clinking, tinkling
and softly muffled musicality's of jovial trivialities in
flavored savored waltzes of mutual admiralities

tick of time in ticking clocking orders down from deep night tocking
reminiscent of the docking of a rowboat on the grasses flocking to
the banks of rivers shocking with the forward knocking of the boat
to shore

scraping chairs in unisemble, shuffling footsteps to
assemble by the orifice through which fate of late had
opportuned

long slow good-byes and fond agreement of an interest in
retrievement of the essence of the evening's thrilled momentus of
achievement amid the closing of the door

then a sigh, a slightened shutter as the feeling of the flutter of the
heartbeat as enchantment floats about the room
slowly, eyes closed in enhancement, dancing to the scene's
romance lent effervescent coalescing attitude
remembrance of a lowered eye glance, touching hand upon a hand
dance, thoughts revealed in talk aside chance

a windowed gaze upon the moon

Flowtrvlr

©2002

Afternoon in the Rose Garden

A rose garden-peaceful, light,

And thoughts of you, invited, come

In splendor, like the rose,

So beautiful, it’s essence bright.

What color should I name my love

Purest white, or deepest red,

Brilliant yellow like the sun,

Or baby pink and innocent?

Perhaps the orange, all gaily dressed

Like festive parasols in a row

That line the boardwalk in the sun,

Where bathers sit to shade their heads.

Or no, then like the lavender

Pale and quiet, soft and silent,

Fragranced lightly in it’s breath,

All delicate lace, it’s petals fragile.

All lovely scents, all beauty formed

Of nature’s choicest vibrant color

In newest bud or aged bloom

Everywhere I look, I see the wonder.

And then I see you in a rose,

Growing quietly among the rows.

The deepest pink -- a blushing bride

Is not as lovely as this one’s pride,

Which blooming fully in the sun,

Brings you to mind, my dearest one.

It’s fragrance light, it’s blossoms free,

It’s buds coiled tight, it’s leaves deep green.

I see your neck, so soft and fair

So graceful, in it’s petals there.

Within a bloom so perfectly,

I see your face, your smile for me.

And as I touch the velvet side

Of petals opened full and wide,

I see your form in beauty laid,

Your grace before me on your bed.

I want to spend eternity,

Drinking in the sight I see

Before me in the darkened room,

Your loveliness, a rose in bloom

As deeper into me you cling

With every movement as I bring

That cup of water you so desire

I feel, then join your inner fire.

I hear your moan in pounding breast

As our two hearts approach the crest

As higher unto heaven’s state

We climb, until we reach the gate

Of purest bliss, and in that place

With I in you and you in me --

We melt into each other’s heat.

As one pure rose of deepest pink,

The deepest pink

The one I chose,

My sweetheart‘s face,

My darling rose.

Flowtrvlr

©2002