Entering this home, of tone modulations, as pulses of intonation caress as luminous tendrils; your voice and mine, intertwine likes snakes kissing scent. Now, I return to the humming receiver, to find no reception. How you disconnect, so sudden, a premature exit. My hands were washed, my teeth were brushed and all uniforms were shed. Its not the shirt or pants that were shed, as much as the subtle reactions and the guardedness, I burn regardless without you. How I linger, as the clouds of remembrance wash over me. These gushing jetties, echoing rivers, trickling streams, fade to a silent lake ripened with deep stillness. My moon-draped frame, kissed by shadows, relaxes into the mattress. Waiting for a return call... Open to renewal, we drift dream-wards into the fertile maelstrom. Letting it all go, yet as a catharsis, not as an orgasm. That will have to wait. Uncompromising fantasy, this dream of experience seeks pleasure from pleasure, yet out there we are untouched. These silvery reflections are remote and cool attempts, to relay a more tactile sensation. Blaze on lambent flames, consume this distance, as I embrace my beloved Sol. *
sometimes the cell phones connection is simply lost and the need for sleep is so much, that one has to simply close their eyes.
I return to embrace this singing void, as your cradling spirit arcs the sky, and sweet peace settles over me.
My hands were washed, my teeth were brushed and all uniforms were shed. Its not the shirt or pants that were shed, as much as the subtle reactions and the guardedness, I burn regardless without you. _______________________ Yeah...I hate when the cell phone drops me...especially when we are lost in our musings and half finished thoughts. Somethings have to wait for a new day. Too many times Marie, lol, that is exactly what happens , I wait hopeful but know he is dead tired and it will have to wait. "To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing." From Macbeth (V, v, 19)
I'm doing ok my friend. Outlook partly sunny and hot with a small chance of thunderstorms later today. Yeah, doing ok...my girl and her bf are gone for two weeks..regaining my sanity a dish atta time so to speak.
Yeah...I hate when the cell phone drops me...especially when we are lost in our musings and half finished thoughts. Somethings have to wait for a new day. Too many times Marie, lol, that is exactly what happens , I wait hopeful but know he is dead tired and it will have to wait. lol...i would have just fallen asleep on the phone anyway, which has been known to happen more then one time... and yay for you time i am sure it feels too quiet around there....
lol...does he ever get to the point where he is falling asleep and starts dreaming and ends up still talking to you since he knows he is on the phone subconsciously, but he interweaves reality and dream state, but the talking makes no sense?
No...that would be me answering the phone in my sleep. He ends up telling me to hang up and that he will call me later. I've done that a few times, hehe!
I began wondering if this really was an accident. The tone I got from the poem seemed to imply that whomever Sylvan was talking to hung up. Also, cell phones don't have dial tones. Just an observation. Great poem.
someone hung the phone up.....happens so often in my house... ithink someone was telling me to sleep before i started babbling about pancakes again by the way, i meant the universe here...not literally
Enjoyed this one, sylvan! There’s a different tone to it from your usual, with a different emotional edge… and I like it. I’m not big on cell phones, in fact, I’m not much of a phone person at all… pretty much just use them to locate people, then I hop in the car.
(((((hugs))))) 'lol...does he ever get to the point where he is falling asleep and starts dreaming and ends up still talking to you since he knows he is on the phone subconsciously, but he interweaves reality and dream state, but the talking makes no sense?' You are so wonderful, marie, I love these connections. That one would speak in sleep and waking, a heart stream of beautiful bliss and joy flowing throughout the work day into night then dreams and waking to find a voice still there... this is creating together. A muse for life is my very breath, what more can one ask when communications are beyond sense.
