The Cauldron of Desire

Inflamed by my wildly fiery desire,

I kiss the fluttering petals of your soft, sumptuous lips.

I tease you,

my ravenous tongue sipping the glistening, molten drops of alluring morning dew.

Inflamed by my wildly fiery desire,

I make love to you,

in my dreams of passion,

my dreams of sensual seduction,

dreams of our erotic confluence,

painting, sketching, dousing my dreams in colours of my naked desire:

burnished copper-red.

scorching scarlet-rose.

achingly beautiful crimson.

Inflamed by my wildly fiery desire,

I dream of you,

dreaming of making sweet, agonisingly delicious love to me,

and in this dreamscape of irresistible vistas,

I see your face.

And I dream,

I dream of you and I entwined in ecstatic bliss,

and together we find the place,

the only place we passionately ache to be:

in each others’ arms.

Eternally.

In your Eyes #5

may your gentle all-embracing warmth,

be forever by your side,

and may you always walk the soft beaches of destiny, at the coming in of the tide …

May life shower you with love and laughter and truth and peace and health,

as your generosity of spirit remains a wellspring of your ceaseless human wealth.

May your dreams be boundless as they soar through hopeful skies,

the hopeful skies that I see,

in the chocolatey universe of whipped cream delights,

that reside,

swirling,

in your beautiful eyes …

Tomorrow is Ours

…

Tomorrow is Ours.

…

Suffocating beneath the weight of historical fear,
asphyxiated by the legacy of traumatised yesteryear,

…

the festering wounds of enslavement still remain,
juggling euphemisms in a crisp sound-bitten refrain,

…

spewing out neo-liberal economic charades,
doling out charity in strips of plastic band-aids,

…

but,

…

tomorrow shall be ours,

…

casting away subservient mind-sets that shackle,
no longer the weakened prey of the insatiable jackal,

…

tomorrow shall be ours,

…

we shall reclaim our plundered mindspaces,
we shall shed our chains, leaving behind the traces,

…

of past injustice, of the hurt and pain of our ancestors’ sorrows,

…

we are here, now, alive with hope,

…

we shall rightfully claim our own tomorrows…

Passion in D-Major

…

… Passion in D-Major …

It was felt, the sensuous brush-strokes on a canvas,

swirling,

to a symphonic crescendo,

of our shared heartbeats,

fading between the notes,,

feeling your soft body entwined with mine,

your form bathed in my infinite kisses,

our orchestral desire rising,

conducting a shared fusing of passion,

… the music echoing …

over the precipice,

on the brink of dazzling rainbow hues,

lost in the void,
of an eternal instant,

plunging through the depths of rhyme,

pleading,
forever pleading,

for a prolonged …

bouquet of shared time…

…