11 May 2018

cooling my sex


I, fevered ocean
did desire delicious man
his lip of night, a dark liquid perfume
of a steel sky born of blue velvet glass
the colour is smoke -
for a god to heal my naked wake
prisoner I am
this hard growl is a marble
a moist wild laugh
an iced eye
no man remembers


©P.A.Kynda Palazy
all rights reserved

for our host Hedge@ Verse Escape: Friday 55

image: public domain

21 comments:

  1. A lush and descriptive title, and a poem that lives up to it--I love 'his lip of night,' and the personification of both parties to this dance of surf and sway. I feel that nothing may have been cooled off, and yet there is that souvenir of 'iced eye' to say the contrary. Depth and complexity vie with color and the magic of words to see who's stronger, and in the end, it's a draw, to the reader's benefit. So glad you could play, willow, and hope this weekend kicks your headache's ass.

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  2. No shortage of words in there to give my eyebrows some good exercise :)

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    1. LOL! that's certainly one way of putting it - I think you've just made my day for a smile!

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  3. I love the ocean and all that it entails. I have a feeling that delicious man did remember your iced eye. Probably sometimes still dreams of it. Although comments are not required, I still do them. I love the 55 and all the different takes on it. This is excellent.

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  4. This is as 'elemental' as Lawrence may have hoped for.. every passion should be oceans deep.

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    1. yes, wow - what a wonderful compliment - referring to Lawrence. thanks Kerry!

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  5. This alembic is so blue and broody, so fine, even though the wine is tart.

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    1. I am really digging this - the word "alembic" - this is truly delightful - pleasure to consider! thanks Brendan

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  6. This really catches the natural fury and restlessness of the deep water. Like Hedge, I liked the "lip of night".

    When is your tiger going to wake up?

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    1. thanks Shay! yes, the fury, the roil, it's all there - including the wake

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  7. this hard growl is a marble
    a moist wild laugh
    an iced eye
    no man remembers

    How cruel it can be, willow! Sometimes one can be most unfair to oneself!

    Hank

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  8. That last line... is one for the ages..."no man remembers...." Like a lonely sound of a bell.

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  9. A beautiful piece, that returns me to the sea....I have not seen in years.

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  10. So cooly hot! Here is my Love After Sixty poem:
    A butterfly appears
    My head tilts to watch it
    My body holds the flowers
    that flutter as it passes
    A smile crosses the room

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    1. thanks for stopping in Colleen!

      wow - that's fascinating - and I love the lines "my body holds the flowers/that flutter as it passes"
      this is just intriguing - I'm just sitting and listening to these words, the whole poem, and reveling in the revelations!

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  11. There is something sooo eloquent about your words , you make them look and sound so elagant and exquisite that I wanted to make love to that ocean!

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thanks for sharing your thoughts, it's appreciated