Tag Archive: amour

Cushiony Beach Feet

I am the samba that remains unwritten
For the space between sand and sea
The dance upon rocks polished by time
Made smooth by deep-water indigo
Bluer than wet waves, sails settle thusly at dusk
On horizons beneath sunlight ceased to fall
To fail to bring light, a blow to grace
A jab to faith, a tinker’s blow to pierce
The armored scowl, the incalculable wonder of eyes
The ponderous pout, beget and be gone
Forgotten, nay a fadeaway dappled in corduroy
Supplicants or another vicarious agenda, indigenous
More than formulaic, naturalized to exist right there
As it must in a flow of energy besieging my optic nerve
I exist to impart everything, I defy thrombosis for I bore
Deeper than the vein of inflammation, the zone of wizened trespass
Thank you for the bodies receptors, for warm city nights
For carousels and the songs that they play, the march of grand horses
Somewhere glasses touch, each a soft mallet upon the other to rub gently
Searching for the warm tone, the sensual rub of globes
I am that samba that snaps you back to the beach
In cool day, in bright coveted morning
Amid constant pressure despite inclination toward shade
Over-anxious more than unctuous or ingratiating
A tip of the hat coincident with the wink is elementary sparkle
The samba that returns like the surf does
Though sometimes it stops
It’s true, so samba through
To the space between sand and sea
Samba, there is where I want to be
Samba, gesticulate, a cuba libre
Leaning out over the rail of the balcony overlooking sand and surf
A small fox at dusk darts furtively through the rough sandy brush
The backs of houses along the dunes along the beach along the ocean
Darkness settles on salted breezes aromatic with land crabs
Less fearful to exit their holes this time of day just before night
When the number of stars and wan atmosphere rival the majesty, the ocean’s roar
In pitch blackness, the world of the blind
The roar of sound dominates the ear
And so goes the body, I am the waves you hear
Of this there’s no denying
I am the song of the samba receding

© Chagall ∞

Prelude in F Major

The erotic aroma of fenugreek, caramel, and chocolate,
rose from her reclined body as she reached for the drawstring.

© Chagall ∞

Ice Chips

The night is crisp, autumnal.
Bourbon sweeter.
My son and his petite amie
at a friend’s cabin while they’re away.
With them, a bag of sweet potatoes
I grew and cured, for roasting
over the wood fire they’ll make.

Life is good.
Peepers sing earlier
than usual tonight. Harmonics from breezes
to trees to shape the glass arc of our ears
to blow gently in them.
I am yellow aged orange inflamed
dared to go red before withering.

I pray to the last gold ray of sun
there in the tall eastern trees
that refuses to say die to another day.

© Chagall 2016

Cyber Puppy Love

My avatar has
a crush on yours

What say you?
Let’s pixellate

Chagall 2016

Long Weekend


Make it so hot
that it’s not
just ahh
but Oh!

© Chagall 2015

Finely Inflated


Once as a girl I was saved
shaved in many directions
to the point, rapier wits
poised, ready to please
left me breathlessly awaiting
a pulse, passion and reasons to live,
to fly was all I could do, would want to
lose myself in long walks, warm downpours
would slowly trickle and seep, my heels on the bricks
echoed in alleys and fine halls, sounding better, much rounder
on marble, I’d love how the glasses tinkled while laughter
rang out then simply faded and died so quickly
so easily lost though fingertips touching
forever so lightly, ever longing
fine starlight, these prisms
of stars, I’d wonder, I’d ask myself
why go on irresistible time, place really matters doesn’t
matter so I choose to leave, to stay, to go, to exit flamboyant
when I was a girl once, combed in elusive fashion

© Chagall 2015

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