This write is submitted for Poetics Texture at dVerse Poets-Pub, hosted by Victoria Ceretto-Slotto, published author as well as writer of live2write2day blog. The prompt she presented us with is the texture in poetry.
Dry we started out this night,
frigid, lonely, dunes apart.
promise lifts our harsh distrust,
we crave red steam – spicy, hot…
Desert sand glows with lust,
locks between my lips turned moist,
silent pants, misty pleasure
fill your hunger and my thirst.
heightened tension, free to fire, when
violent shrieks pierce our ears –
it’s red… it’s red! we cringe, I shiver,
cracks and gaps start surfacing.
Blush synthetics on my breasts,
we run, no time for sweet caress.
we grab, we shake our sleeping children,
rushing into metal grey.
Your glaucous sparkle, my greens and gold,
touch each other from a distance.
with denim prayers for whiter days,
for silent nights,
for growing old.
~Struggling with major depression has carved many wrinkles and colored hairs grey. My partner in life is devoted, but sometimes it’s too hard for him to bare; Lately we’ve been working on closing the gap, trying to build trust. The guilt I carry is at times too heavy.
Also, I live in a land filled with distrust, anger and hatred. These past few days have got “hot” – with missiles fired on our homes, making things less quiet than usual. A house – five-minute drive from us – was hit, people injured, a couple killed. My “leaders” retaliate and so on and so forth… with little hope we wait… ~~~ News: Cease fire declared… let’s hope it lasts! …
This write is about both fronts. I do live in the desert, and the days here are dry and the nights are cold.
I hope you read, perhaps connect and comment. Thank you.
deb ~ ~