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With the Moon

Her mind does not quiet down until late
in the evening when, wrapped in the darkness,
she allows the daylight to disappear,
leave her alone with imagination.

From the corners, shadow invades her space
bringing with it memories and quiet
contemplation of what is missing now
as opposed to what was missing back then.

Reminded of shared dreams and desires
faded, devotion that waned with the moon,
her search for passion is strengthened. She is
alive deep within, ready for release.

A whisper from the fan caresses her;
swallowed by sensation, she sleeps at last.
~
Siobhan
06/24/11


Bridge between Worlds

She stands in soft shadows, just out of reach,
sheltered by the golden branches – waiting.
Beyond the rushes and worn wooden planks,
shallows, running cold and clear, entice;
sunlight reflects, warming the rocks and stones,
slippery green moss welcomes the water
cools the peaceful setting soaked in daydreams.

She can’t see past the edge, lost in tall grass.
Imagination chooses a meadow;
a soft blanket of clover and flowers
on which to rest. Logic chooses a path
much steeper, treacherous to maneuver.

Both hope and curiosity move her
forward when caution brings hesitation.

The bridge between these worlds crosses a stream
neither is able to negotiate.

Words no longer suffice to close the gap.

~
Siobhan
05-31-11

 


Painting over the Past

Covering colors of what was shaded
in varietal hues and clear dark green –
Merlot and absinthe, old drunken spirits

she paints over the past; chooses with care
the fresh asparagus and light cream sauce;
a glass of crisp pinot grigio
and garden salad, her appetite ripe,
her palette prepares for new adventure.

Each stroke brings memories along with it.
Unable to obscure the emotion,
she allows it to flow through her body.
Anger blends with pain, mixes up sorrow
as a side dish and serves her two choices.
Permission to consume – or acceptance.

~
Siobhan
05-31-11


The Scent
 
Stepping into the cool dimness, missing
the first step on an unfamiliar stair,
she catches the scent of male reaching out.
It clings to the walls, wraps itself around,
pushes inside until she feels their pulse
penetrate. Memories drip through the air,
she recalls lovers’ hearts beating as one,
flesh melting against flesh, humidity
            another word for the sweat of passion
splashing against cheeks as tears – pain or joy?
 
In the dark of the bar, she feels their eyes
watching, tastes their breath in the air – waiting;
Her own smile a carefree mask of pleasure,
she welcomes fantasy and desire.

 
Siobhan
07/23/10


Swallowed by Thunder

Thunder rumbles, a distant echoing
to this desire.
Boiling inside
pent-up energy overflows
and begs
for release.
Vibrations skate   a  c  r  o  s  s   the sky;
land between belly and thigh
waiting for a lover’s torch
to ignite with lightning flashes
– never hitting the same place twice… intentionally.

Horizon a darkened shade of blue-black
covers sunshine with passionate promises.
Bodies collapse mid-day,
slide between
cool sheets
behind rain curtained windows;
refresh themselves in the late spring shower.
Lovers’ voices swallowed
by the thunder.

Siobhan
5/31/10


Helios

Every time I close my eyes, I can hear
whispers and laughter – I am reminded
the light at the end of the tunnel is
Helios beckoning me closer to
the other side of darkness, promises
of joy pulled with his golden chariot.

Then when I sleep, dream of storms and thunder,
his sister Selene unveils the night;
grace-full in silver drawn by serpentine
dragons, she chases away my nightmares.
Wrapped in clouds, she cradles me through the dark
and into the gentle hands of Eos.

Dew kisses caress my cheek, waking me
to find Helios’ promises waiting.

Siobhan
4-22-2010


Fire and Ice

When cold invades, snaking its way along
tendons, assaulting the muscle between
shoulder blades, he melts it away. Fingers
caress down the length of calf, a heated
touch cupping hips that ache – then with pain, now
with want – eases her from thoughts of warmth to
murmurs of desire; chill forgotten.
 
The crunch of tires on snow and ice fade
beneath the strains of Debussy. Music
soft enough to dream by relaxes her
into his arms, even as passion wakes.
Is it the room’s chill air kissing her flesh
or his mouth on her breast that excites her?
Fire and ice burn together tonight.
 
 
Siobhan
02/17/10

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