Poetic portraits
I rest in the life of another,
in a dishonest past;
a retouched memory,
sombre, stained a rose’s hue.
Yielding and regressing,
to a former self;
with sight more tranquil,
wit breathing unspoiled,
though vision untrue,
distorted by a lens seeking solace.
You, born the eleventh
in poetry’s month,
exhale pure air.
on virgin canvas.
Your purity shared
in the sweeping
loops of words bled
on page.
Our time dims twilight to our birth,
as we forecast a spring never-ending,
our blossom forever in bloom.
We share optimistic lies,
wishing on an unlikely future.
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Temptations echo
as Tupac ruminates
on clandestine longing.
My eyes listing
across your profile’s face.
Our departure long formed,
an ocean of years between us.
The first drop spilling
a premature end
to a former friend.
On your face I see
your successes, exciting and contemporary;
and my heart outlines a jealous love.
Simmering intensity
troubles her bronze skin.
Her air effervescent,
spitting shocks
of paralysing awkwardness.
Her mannerisms polar,
atop a liberal-traditional swing.
Her harness religion,
restricting exploration,
her morality stifled,
by rules not for her.
Her actions betray her
chastised sexuality.
Her repressions expelled
in acute action and lewd words. Continue reading
Eyes deep
lashes beckoning.
A visage an intriguing exotic.
Hair, strands of long earthen silk,
tumbling carefree.
Her presence is rich and warm,
blooming conversations
of all sweet and sensitive.
She speaks in hushed rooms
between sips of jasmine tea,
listening.
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J.C. FitzDerick 