EXILE

It was Not a heart beating
On the night-shift, for it always does that
It was not the chill of memory
Not the blood in the ears
Of Fate, it was the nativity
Of time confounded by
How inept the hours felt
In the Silver factory of the void
There were indefatigable facts
That drove in the company
Of self-judgement, that seemed
Extraordinarily bright in the quiet
Night, and my heart circled
The Shadows before a rising sun.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Cloudz-451854121

UNTIL BIRD-RACKETING DAWN

When night comes back
Back in black with her Royal dreams
Death with lift us all apart
Though aging does that just fine
Our wings of where we
Once flew, the sunlit open skies
And when red breaks out

Blood-dropped Sunsets spill
Across the ancient Lullaby
Of the setting West alongside
All that we once held dear
That nightlong spin on Time
Peels the stars from our rooftops
A canopy of light-hunted mistresses
All screaming the same name, LIFE.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/dark-bird-450866660

CALL to POETS

The Festival has a unique theme this time, poems about poetry, do you have any to offer up?

It’s one of the most decorated topics so if you are up to the challenge:

LINK

http://www.writerscafe.org/contests/Wuji-International-Poetry-Festival-IX%2A/49886/

Theme is Metapoetry.

Your Hips Beneath my Pregnant Hands

You gave me, songs for late hours
I hunger after your rippling
Skin, flesh come alive
Your silver back of cold divinity

Your thighs of shattered sensations
Your hips of warlock-tumult
Wine and kisses, led me to this –
Your small breasts and unexpected

Nipples, your sweet moans
For hard days, your last resort
Of petting me, stroking me
Let us wash our limbs with moisture

And make a cringing siesta
Of our tired bones, weary lungs
I’ll give you French names
In bed, unclothed and free at last

In our naked ease, I’ll give you massages
And detach you from reality like a feather
With circling tongues around your
Wet spot, split heavens like dark rain

Feast on your native smells, vivid heart
I’ll tip your golden buttocks an open leaver
And find great engines of burning there
Wanting your wetness over me without end

And season myself in your whirlpool of lust
You gave me, songs for late hours
I’ll give you blazing gardens of desire
And you will squat on me like a passionate princess.