Wandering in your garden of fruitful flair,
Where my heart gladly fell into love to despair,
Flowing with exquisite and succulent fruition,
For my essence is on eternal expedition,
To partake my bosom with amorousness and delight,
Explodes my imploring passion outright,
Down the reddish and pomegranate creek,
Savoring in erotic indignation on your delightful physique,
Munching all those fruits with extreme bliss,
My cinnamon lodge yields its spice into your abyss,
Intermixed with sweet milk and pomegranate juice,
Sweeter as our souls merge they diffuse,
Imploding the savage fires 'til they burst,
Eternally overflowing our endless and erotic thirst.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
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1 comments:
Do you remember the creek in Hiltonia? It was this color.
My tat on my back is of a woman with a jug of water on her head (the woman at the well that Jesus spoke to and loved; and going back, an ancient image of women's spirituality and divinity; Christianity has a habit of using the spiritual images that are already in a culture to speak to the hearts of those it would convert.) It is an abstract by Matisse and in the actual painting is called "Woman with Urn and Pomegranates" or something like that. Look it up.
Did you know that some traditions think the pomegranate is the fruit of wisdom (the forbidden fruit), like we think it was the apple? That makes this fruit full of imagery. It's blood red and luscious, too, isn't it?
Have you ever read Kubla Khan by Samuel Taylor Coleridge? This poem reminds me of that. Read the background information on the poem, too.
I'm going to re-read this one and simmer on it for a while, and read a few more tomorrow.
N--
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