out of the ashes

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Hmm...

I haven't posted a poem here in ages!
I got a few nice comments from readers over at Bookrix on this one:)




Go To Your Window

Go to your window, precious love.
Can you see me?
Look closely. I am there floating helplessly by.
My lips are moving, calling—but do you notice?
They search for your fingertips again.

How I long to brush my lips against them,
Hold them captive with gentlest kisses.

Oh, call out, This way! I am here!
Take hold of me—I’ve shattered the glass.
For you, lovely one, for you.
My hands are near you, take hold!
Touch them. Kiss them.


How many years, how much despair,
In blind and futile wandering, alone?

I feel as though I am in a cloud;
Blind, deaf, unable to move
Except at its whim.
I have called for you, but no sound
Escapes my locked and feverish throat.

How I crave the healing of your voice,
Open my ears with the breath of your words.

I’ve called. I call. I entreat you in darkness—
Cold, alone, disconnected, moving upward, now.
No…no, downward. Oh, I cannot tell.
I am blind, I am mute. Near to dying.
Desperately in search of you.

Lift my lifeless ghost from abandoned hope,
Become my flesh and golden path.

I know that even with eyes stolen by your beauty,
Words hidden in the mist of separation,
Your sighing trapped in silence
By some mysterious cruelty I cannot comprehend,
I will find you. I will happen upon your window.

Do you see love’s brilliant sunrise?
Azure eyes that color my pale firmament?

Go to your window, precious lover.
Find me. Reach out!
I am deathly naked, floating somewhere near you.
Searching for your arms, your fingertips,
Sighing for your stomach…

How I long to brush my tongue across you,
Taste the sweetness of your perfect skin once more.

Shatter the distance between us.
Reach out, find me…I am near.
Say to me, Here is that which you desire.
Here I am. Touch me—take my hands in yours,
Touch me with your soft mouth.


My reply to you is passion, sweet lover,
An immensity of intertwining longings.

The glass has vanished. Find my hands.
They’ll swim the rivers of your body freely,
Easily, like fish, or children’s tiny boats atop you,
Rushing to remember every current,
Every turn, each cataract delightfully exciting.

I hear. Your ears drop their hundredweights—
The music of my voice releases you.

Whisper, whisper, Place your hands on my skin.
Feel me—I shudder with infinite desire.
Your fingertips move my breasts,
Your soft lips awaken mine—
I am captured by an awakened fire.


The glass has vanished. I alight, softly.
I let your fingertips find my lips.
(c) Patrick Sean Lee, 2011

3 comments:

  1. You write poetically in your short stories, but are a master with your actual poetry. This is worthy of being published. Bravo.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hey Patric just droped by to say hello. Love the poem.

    Carol x

    ReplyDelete
  3. Thank you so much, Val and Carol:)

    ReplyDelete