The creativity of the thought process.


Passion Extirpated

With open arms she greets me to her breast
and encompassed there I stay
cossetted in swathes of perfumed air
and stroked by a beating heart.

Were I a mortal, full of heaving flesh,
I would raise my hands and fondle
that which pleases basal lust,
but I am just... A speck of dust;
a thought-form she conspired.

A trance brought me here this day
by her dreams I am transpired,
moulded by her thoughts of He
who'd be her fascination, but,
entirely of her lustful imagination.

My diaphanous form is not of Earthly clay so fired,
and once the thought her mind expressed
had diminished from the crescendo wave,
her hands clasp naught but air
for I am simply transitory, ephemeral.

Thus am I forced to decompress,
become much dissipated,
while she is left sole laying there
her heart and bed alone...

but her passion extirpated.




Poetry by Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 73 times
Written on 2022-02-12 at 15:56

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D G Moody The PoetBay support member heart!
This is good Allen - really good. And its interesting how we each read a poem. What the poem says to me is that the thought form that 'she' has conjured is her sexual fantasy of the absent lover, who yet satisfies her in his absence. Apart from my own interpretation I thought the use of language and the rhyming sequence a delight. Bravo!

Dougie
2022-02-13


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
The thinker himself becomes a thought. Nice!
2022-02-12