This Is My Mountain

A beautiful woman
lying on her side
looking, smiling
Voluptuous curves
beckon, promise

This is my mountain
Clothed in shades of
red – orange – yellow
preparing for an evening
Winter

Above her
a sky –
your sky
my sky,
where you’ve been held aloft
in my arms –
blue – grey – pink – green
in the rose-fingered dawn

The promise
of joy
to come

My love,
the smell of coffee
the taste of apple
remain
but somehow your absence makes them
less enticing
The shared look
The guarded smile
Fingers barely touching
as drink is passed
Your smell mixed with coffee smell

I’ve known
true happiness
I’ve been broken
in agony

The promise
of this smiling woman
calling to me in the early morning
Memories of shoulders
brushing

The pianist’s hands
will touch mine again
Shoulders will brush
Lips meet
Eyes fix

What is real ?
Pain
Love
You
Me
Us
What is there to fear ?
Loss, pain, loathing ?
All will disappear
There is nothing to fear

All I have
is yours
All I will have
is yours

We are
the red – orange – yellow
clothing of our sister mountain
blowing in the breeze
We too
prepare for an evening of winter
Long
cold
dark

All I have
All I will have
Like the tasteless coffee
Bitter apple
Are of little interest now

When Greco orders me to report
I will tell him
I have done more than I could
I have failed in much
I have been broken, smashed on the anvil
of life
But like red-hot iron beaten by the blacksmith’s hammer
each blow changes
and strengthens the iron

Grandfather
when I report
there will be nothing left of me
In your embrace
my shell will become dust

Not yet the
empty shell
The discarded husk
I seek to become
I am
I become
The luckiest

To have loved
To love
To be loved
I am the luckiest

A beautiful woman
lying on her side
looking, smiling
Voluptuous curves
beckons, promises

It is you
I think of
my love
fingers intertwined
shoulders brushing
lips meeting
eyes fixing

I see you
walking
working
talking
laughing

Olive black eyes
deep and placid
slender and beautiful neck
smile that makes the mona lisa
blush with shame and envy
visage
that launched a thousand ships

Helen
I am your Paris
I stand still
on the broken and devastated plain
Troy in smoking ruins
I stand still

Yours
Always
As much as you will have me

I
am
the luckiest

———————————–

6 October, 2012

Advertisements

About teserak1

I am Noman
Gallery | This entry was posted in Now, Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s