Archival Review

[LeBroz]

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Such a pleasure to start the day with such a softly sensual reading.


Amante II
by Eleanora Day©


Now again the night is sentinal.
Curtains flicker their small nods,
approving us as we complete

the darkness, blooming in the first
brush of lips, smooth petals, winged,
unfolding to grasp the taste.

Stars glow in our mouths, falling rising
chest in restless flutter. We are birds,
roused from the nest, awakening

to undo, release, trail essence
sucked from skin like nectar
to take flight, take me on you,

over you, locked at chakras.
Souls join hips, foreheads, mouths
murmur So Good. Amante this pull

and push aches sweet when we
swallow the pulse of life, poised
like animals, lifted in your hands.

We are cerebral. We are beyond
reason, awash in sigh, cresting,
drenched in moonlit humanity.

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[LeBroz]

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It's not just the girls that feel this, the guys feel it too. It's just that Lit's ladies describe the pain so well.


discontented
by RisiaSkye©


These are the contents of my head.
I do not think of you, because to
think of you would be futile and
wrong and even dangerous
even more dangerous
than trying not to think of you
feel you
feel hope and passion and joy and
discovery and loss
of innocence
and wish and want and more
and now and
then
it turns to wait
long and pain and loneliness
fills hours and hours and
even when we're together
we're apart and
alone and straining
across distances of time and
fear and silence
of regret.
Faith takes work
and sacrifice.
These are the contents of my heart.

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[LeBroz]

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All those thought provoking questions — I may have to learn the meaning of the Spanish ending.


Amante III
by Eleanora Day©


Whose arms hold you in the night
when fear crosses your cheek
under the wing of shadow?
Whose arms?

Whose eyes watch yours shade
with pleasure or sadness?
Who sees your face twist
with pain or passion?
Whose eyes, Amante?

Who carries your secrets
carefully as weeping children?
Who holds them close, loves you
even when their fingers are jagged,
even when they cut and hurt?

Who listens to the whisper of your truth?
Who forgives the stumble of your lies?

Who lays beside you in the pale
wash of moon and chides the morning
for tarrying too long in your dreams?

Usted sabe quién somos, mi amor.
Usted sabe quiénes somos.
Siempre aqui.

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[Angeline]

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All those thought provoking questions — I may have to learn the meaning of the Spanish ending.

<snip>

Usted sabe quién somos, mi amor.
Usted sabe quiénes somos.
Siempre aqui.


You know who we are, my love.
You know who we are.
Always mine.

 

[LeBroz]

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Okay, so my mind is weird — the first thing that popped in was dis cord...


discord
by Senna Jawa©


sitting next to the phone
doing next to nothing
tempted by the cord
something of this sort




wlodzimierz holsztynski ©
1985

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[LeBroz]

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Now this is erotic!


Amante IV
by Eleanora Day©


The waiting mouth
wants taking, deliberately biting
the plum, the fruit of night,
tasting texture, hearing tones
of breath, anticipation
of fingertips trailing skin,
glinting.

The phosphorescent pinpoints.

I bend Amante
as this first flush rises,
blushed dark with fever,
stretched taut as soft glass
oozing sweet trembles
and curved to lips
waiting to kiss
the night.

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[LeBroz]

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With simple language and clean imagery comes such a thought provoking piece.


discrimination
by catastrophe©


The old man sits
on a metal
folding chair
protected from the
steady dripping rain
by the plastic paneled shield
that surrounds the
bodega.

His dignified hands
are sheathed in
gardening gloves
as he skillfully strips
thorns from the stems of
white, honorable roses.

His isolation is distracting
and it is not
his language, culture
or education
that separates
him
from the world,
but the almost invisible,
plastic shield
that is dividing.

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[LeBroz]

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With the dawn, sexual desires awaken, as described here so sensuously and subtly.


Amante V
by Eleanora Day©


Too late to be up, mi dulce.
Too early, with the moon
full in the night, hanging
in blind omniscence. Distant
birdcalls approach. Dawn
stretches in cool mist
to lick the Earth's face clean

Amante, lift yourself.
Haga que su deseo pide.

Make your desire plead, Mendigo,
for my mouth and the grasp
of tongue, teeth pushing you
into sighs and the little
remonstrances of fingers.

Here and here,
suavecito, supplicant.

The sky is turning to milk,
gray pearlesence; the birds
are speaking.
The night breathes its dying sibilance.
Silence. Skin rising, falling
together.

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[LeBroz]

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A cannibal is a cannibal is a cannibal, knife and fork or not. Just sit in their midst and all you'll see are their smiles of immense pleasure.


disjointed membership
by oxalis©


self pleasure sparked by simple words
an order unknown till now
based on a stranger’s tout
reminiscence of kick and buck
knife and fork cannibals
smirking
face to face

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[LeBroz]

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Let's start the day by warming up with a little form play.


Amante VI (Ghazal)
by Eleanora Day©


Amante, there are sorrowful pools in our eyes.
Sometimes we drown in the depths in our eyes.

Those nights are ancient, they bleed memories.
We fall together, breaking rules in our eyes.

Forget what love is; it's on the tip of my tongue.
The world and we two are fools in our eyes.

Look here at them striated amber and dark.
Our souls are gifts rare as jewels in our eyes.

Pájaro triste, míreme y vea el Sol en esta noche.
Míreme, míreme before night cools in our eyes.

Comfort with kisses; it's on the tip of my tongue.
Unravel the hours, unlearn the schools in our eyes.

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[LeBroz]

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Housekeeping chores are never done, even in the electronic realm.

disk maintenance
by Senna Jawa©

rivers flow in the files
of ordinary 8-bit bytes
stars rested their sharp points
against the cavities of my eyes

i shrank the occupied disk space
gone are the bits the stories
of the people who lived carefree
in the file supported mountains

multi-user baby scream
whenever limits are approached
cry and kick and the files
are already gone like a dream​

wlodzimierz holsztynski ©
1995-10-15/16


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[LeBroz]

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After reading through the entire poem, that final line is the perfect finishing touch, in keeping with the poem's style and spirit.


Amante VII (Hypersonnet)
by Eleanora Day©


Please do not ask, Amante, if we love.
Darkness is nigh; the moon is lemon pale,
and we embrace in arms of comet trail,
awash in teardrops from the stars above.
Trabe los ojos, ángel. Dése yo.
Empuje el dolor dentro de mí.
I am your mouth. You are my sea.
We are primordial in mingled flow.
Susurro a mí; let all our secrets go
into tides, mi dulce, where we are free
to float enrapt in moan and sigh. The night
unfolds its depths in lips, in languor slow.
You make your limbs enfold me as a tree
clings to the midnight Sun, drinking its light.
We soar here together, enjoined like dove
to wing. We cry one song, our voices sail
to safer harbor, past where we might fail
against the crags, heedless strike and shove
of circumstance. Querida, cast off fright.
Don't call it love, Amante, call it right.

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[LeBroz]

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Some rather creative imagery, culminating in the creation of a halo. Who cares about the meaning; it's just a simple pleasure to read.


Dissecting the Rainbow
by Willows_Tears©


After we lit silent candles
she whispered the secret
of course everyone loves a rainbow
but we live on one.

I search for pins or clips
but it seems nothing holds
the grey twists and curls
in place.

Maybe while dressing
she searched for the memory of color
on lips and crown but I doubt it.

We have no choice but to tease those
colors apart! Knot knuckle fingers
pull fringes of an imaginary rope, frayed.

She chooses to be the last photographer
down crooked steps of unpredictable
distances. The others hurry ahead
with tripods over shoulders
shutters anxious for the perfect light
the perfect dune.

Yet she stands
there where she stands
captures a single prize-winning angel.

Today she sings out
Why oh why can't I?
Since no one has a good answer
she flies up
grabs the crest like the handle of a purse
and pulls that rainbow away
away from the horizon's restriction
until it becomes the halo
it was always meant to be.

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[LeBroz]

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A piece of eros frenetically keeping pace with the cacophony of a city symphony.


Amante VIII
by Eleanora Day©


Absence makes hearts
frenético querido,
from the first tight clasp
of searching eyes, budding
vistazos waiting

until day is vanquished
and twilight drips orange,
melting the day, settling
among trees nodding branches,

laughing at us, mi amor,
our savage comedia humana,
las danzas and our mouths
kissing chaos gladly.

From the window traffic
whooshes, vies with moans
like violins rising, woodwinds
sighing. The rhythm bumps us
as one cacophonous drum,
beating

Amante, Amante,

the train screams
with us. Ahora paz.
La noche exudes absence,
whispers secret names,
yields silence.

Intimidad.
Fingertips touch.

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[LeBroz]

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Feels like a description of depression, without becoming depressing to read.


dissolve
by catastrophe©


I think I could just
dissolve
let those fragmented pieces
fade into the bed
each breath spreading me
open
until the bits begin
to fall away.
the numb, tingly vibration
spreads to the edges as I
break
fuzzy little bubbles rise
to my surface
until the nothingness blissfully
comes.

but what happens when I
break
when I'm all used up
when the meter settles on
a red E
for empty.
when there is no more
just nothing
a vacuum inside me
where no words, art, or laughter
can ever come again.
and that little broken shell
that will remain, I'm sure
will it be relief
or just dead...

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[LeBroz]

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Go ahead and read this and see if you feel as though you're being seduced.


Amante IX
by Eleanora Day©


Amor falls its rain on us, querida.
Kisses soothe cooling drops upon my neck.
How the fingernail moon smiles mi vida,
as if to sing that it is at our beck
and call. We need only to watch the sky,
to breathe against the madre flesh of night,
and know that morning whispers by and by
of oranges and sun, the day alight
with hope amante, uncurling the dawn
as promises, as flowers want to bloom,
their petals laughing at each sleepy yawn
awakening within our tiny room.
We celebrate another day, renew
this happiness, our new dreams. Solo tu.

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[LeBroz]

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Here's a fascinating piece as you watch the evolution of change in this relationship.


Dissolve Into You
by Savannah Skye©


Lying next to you
Lost inside your breath
Skin to skin
Vanities paper thin

Vulnerable without protection
I dissolve into you
Diffuse your pain
Dissipate your damage

Make you whole again
Like when you were born
Innocent and protected
Wrapped inside your mother's arms

But like all good things
One day when I'm not looking
Either now or then
You'll be taken away

You'll disappear into the future
Hands of time will split us apart
Carry me away from you
Deliver me to the other side of night

Where I will stand alone
Without you by my side
Shivering under the morning sky
Cold and lost without your protection

No blanket of comfort
Will be warm or loving enough
To embrace me
Like the way you did the night before


- by Savannah Skye...

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[LeBroz]

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Using this form seems to underscore a sense of raw sexual urgency, unlike the earlier poems in the series that are more sensually erotic. The interlocking rhyming seems to push the reader forward, adding to the feel of urgency. Excellent choice of form for this purpose.


Amante X (Terza Rima)
by Eleanora Day©


Spank me, mi loco. Yo soy su mala muchacha. Si.
Run your hands around the curves of hip and tap,
laughing. Pull yourself hard. Bruise your mouth on me,

and whisper Who’s the bitch, now? Tiny slap
reddens, laps, never really stings, mi amo. Night is near
as skin dimpled with shake and giggle, not a trap.

No pain. This is a rain of love. There is no fear
in stormy lovers’ games. Touch me dulce uno, turn,
y sea mi mujer. Who’s the bitch now, dear?

Te amo tranquilo o salvaje. Calm or wild, burn
into me. Dígalo! Now!, Amante, Now! Gasp,
groan, smile and moan. Poco a poco we learn

otros thrill, the power of our single breath, the rasp
of falling sibilance. Looming moonlight’s tender grasp.

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[LeBroz]

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This one has an odd appeal for me. On first reading I didn't react much but still felt compelled to reread it more than once. See how you feel on reading this.


distance
by lobomao©


Reach across
Rocky rocks
Painted deserts
Rolling hills
Eyefilling plains
A wide river of passions
And so many seasons
Divide us now
It is nothing is it
In the brush touch tease
Between two minds
Pacific passions
Atlantic beauty
Meet at the point
Of good hope

The spirit wheel
Of st louis
Traversed the globe
In one fell journey
Going onward into
Our dreams
The sun chariot
Rolls across the sky
Promise to wave
As you fly by
A journey once taken
Seems so much shorter
On the return
May the road
Rise to meet you
And carry you home

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[LeBroz]

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Whereas yesterday's Amante X used form in such a way as to speed things up and add a sense of urgency, this similar form is used to slow things down to a more sensual level. Go ahead and read both and see the difference.


Amante XI
by Eleanora Day©


What is self, Amante? Let me know your hands
on supple skin and the heat of bidden breath.
Usted tiene mis palabras, submerged strands

of want, desire lifetimes deep. No earthly death
can quench the thirst unbottled here again
on supple skin. And the heat of bidden breath,

surmounting moments unknown now or then,
still elemental, felt within an artful phrase,
can quench the thirst unbottled here again

if it can be, and shades of mores are to raise
reluctant fingers, seeking soul hid in a face
still elemental, felt within an artful phrase.

Poems are imprints. Art can weave the trace
with near forgotten kisses whispering touch
reluctant fingers, seeking soul hid in a face

that never spoke to me and yet said much.
What of self, Amante, can I give your hands
with near forgotten kisses whispering touch?
Usted tiene mis palabras, submerged strands.

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[LeBroz]

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Simplicity's so powerful.

So many poems seem to wrap themselves into pretzels in an effort to achieve a rhyming structure and they do such a poor job of it that it's almost painful to witness that attempt at rhyming. Here's one little poem that flows so smoothly — and only two words rhyme.

And, on another level, questions may come to mind, such as:

-why can't you write the poem; what's holding you back?
-why can't you see this person?
-why haven't you led this life you're supposed to lead?
-why can't you be this person you're supposed to be; what's stopping you?​

Distant Light
by hoopers©


There is a poem
I can not yet write
to someone I can no longer see
about a life I have not yet led
and a person I can not yet be.

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[LeBroz]

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Continuing the adventure in form poems, having moved from terza rima to terzanelle, we now dive into everyone's favorite form, the villanelle. And more challenging is to see it done with Spanish phrases tossed in for good measure. Like the terzanelle, the villanelle is more lush and sensuous than the terza rima, which has an edgier feel. Just go on and compare them.


Amante XII
by Eleanora Day©


Amante, here in one thousand points of light
jewel hued, nieve que cae, las estrellas shine
and candles’ dance. Lumenaria shiver bright

as frozen apples. The moon ornaments night
oro puro, querido, se calienta aquí. We entwine
Amante, here in one thousand points of light.

Our bodies, suavecito, stretch to hips. The flight,
nuestra libertad, comienza con besos. We incline
and candles dance, lumenaria shiver bright.

I see them in your eyes. I dream you. Our night
is hush and sigh, our secrets big as sky. Recline
Amante, here in one thousand points of light,

cover me with skin, forest me, give your sight
to mouths, fingertips. ¡Escuche! Swish of pine
and candles’ dance, lumenaria shiver bright.

Seasons del amor are passing, what is right
is precious prescience. There is no decline
Amante, here in one thousand points of light
and candles’ dance. Lumenaria shiver bright.

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[LeBroz]

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Ahhh, a chic flic set to words, that shows such empathy for which women are so well known.


Amante XIII
by Eleanora Day©


Amante feel my fingers press,
navigate the landscape
of your spine. I settle my hair
in the hollow of your bones,
whisper comfort between ridges
of rib, rub your neck to ease.

Hombre cansado, I brush care
from your forehead, gather you
to me as earth accepts rain
and drowns, Amante, to grow anew
in cross currents of bliss and need.

I do this mi dulce not having
known the crash and clatter
of memory drawn in scars
that make you stretch
in predawn prayer for mercy.
Time bends men and even
the strongest trees.

Caídas de la noche.

I am your empath when every muscle
cries to heaven and we share ache,
yoked in burden and refuge,
inhaling promise, exhaling yesterday.

Sueño querido.

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[LeBroz]

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Here's one of only two poems she submitted, an aptly titled piece, filled with very dark images. A rather stark contrast to the series of morning poems I've selected. Like an affair not to remember and its unwanted aftermath — very dark indeed.


disturbed
by Coi©


Eyes that always reminded me of fallen leaves
and decaying apples

My life,
before and after...
Golden days
turned to gray morphine mornings.

Now, it is polite smiles
& a friendless conversation.
That's all I will let you have,
the reflection of the surface.

"Forgive me if I don't really want to meet your new pregnant wife"

You'll ask me how I really am.
I won't tell you.

Secrets that are ment to be locked away;
grains of sand
in me
waiting,
the irritation forming pearls.

The life in me died
12.5 hours after you left.
In blood and pain
on the wooden floor of my cabin.

I never told you.
I never will.

I drove myself home,
away from the doctors.
"No, I will be fine."

I poured a whiskey
and washed us off the floor.

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[LeBroz]

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What a way to start the day and the weekend, with such soothing sensuality.


Amante XIV
by Eleanora Day©


Upstairs by the curve of lamp, Amante
on the bed, by the two satin pillows
and the pale golden head of moon, don't say
mi triste, no lo siento, these woes
that blued the sky past twilight reap the dawn.
Querido we go on, a miracle
caught in your hands, and I am never gone.
Nunca! For I have fallen to your will
and mouth, wingspread and worn upon your skin,
dark beating on your tongue where I am whole.
I know your muted whispers from within
night sung al cielo. Here is my soul
lain on your life, caught in the teeth of sighs.
Muted. Our breath. Silence and star-crossed cries.

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