Poetry of the innermost E-Book

Z.J. Galos

• Herausgeber: BoD - Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Serie: Poetry of the Innermost
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 60

Beschreibung

The poet wishes to thank all the women who met him in a virtual and real life, being good listeners and also outstanding friends, sharing their time and interests, especially in times of sorrow and when he suffered a severe depression after the death of his poetry-partner and teacher of literature, who considered him as a friend and equal partner sharing interests in literature, poetry, and the arts. The poet will thank them all for he'll publish his work, now as the ink has dried, and it reflects their mature relationship, be it virtual or in tactile reality, the precious times of happiness, when they saved him spiritually and physically, returning from the dark abyss of a mental breakdown and suicidal thoughts. These thanks include everybody, who had contact with the poet especially during the critical years of '04 and '05, when the poet had to return mentally and physically to the world of the living, so that he could process his emotional world into poetry and publish it to the interested reader. Perhaps some people may have had a similar experience with a soul-mate, love partner, twin flame, and a close friend. Viva all mature women!

Leseprobe

Older women know who they are,

and that makes them more beautiful

than younger ones.

Ian Fleming

Sex and older women

used to be considered an oxymoron,

rarely mentioned in the same breath.

Gail Sheehy

A woman has to live her life,

or live to regret not having lived it.

D.H. Lawrence

Index to pages

Content:

This Golden Kid

I Wake

Lace and Underwear

EROTOSPILIA

The Golden Child of Sensual Love

pothi II drwg 02: the soul and body denuded

I AM NOW YOUä

Your Spirit Never Dies

Deep in the Dark Inside

MARINATE – MANUXORATE

IT COULD BE PARADISE

pothi II drwg 03: love’s well known places (1)

ON SUNDAYS

SONGS FOR IRIS I

SONGS FOR IRIS II

UNFOLDED TO BE THE BEST

pothi II drwg 04: mature lovers threesome

ROCK-CAST SPEAKER-MOUTHS

SONGS FOR IRIS III

SONGS FOR IRIS IV

SONGS FOR IRIS V

DEAD END

HER MANY BEINGS

pothi II drwg 05: viva mature women

THIS THURSDAY MORN’

IN PRAISE OF MATURE WOMEN/ VIBHA

EYES LIKE COALS GLOW

IN PRAISE OF MATURE WOMEN/ AGI

HOW CAN WE SPEND THE NIGHT

pothi II drwg 06: sweet lil’ things between lovers

AT THIS EARLY TIME

WE GROW OLD

ANOTHER MAN

BE FREE

I STILL LOVE HER

pothi II drwg 07: love’s fav places (1)

Our Meeting Eyes

TEARS

WORD COUNT

RISE

Another Moon

pothi II drwg 08: love’s sweet aged nectar

DENUDED MARBLE

CLUSTER OF ETERNAL FUN

Twenty One Sweet Days.

Index to pages

Notes to poems

About the author

Other books by the author

*

POTHI II drwg 01: in praise of mature women

Prolog

Since the poet had a stormy relationship with a mature woman writer and poetess, the notion of star-crossed lovers had chosen them. This holistic love experience with a sweet-bitter taste left him in emotional turmoil. She guided him through a romantic start, an exciting sexual affair, and an unusual bond to compassionate love, he had never experienced before.

Once his love had passed to an Afterlife, the poet in his grief had been embraced by a string of beautiful older women, who all shared their love with him. To find a love partner, is based on mutual respect and emotional maturity.

The appreciation of a woman, who is endowed with a sensual intelligence paired with a good mind will lead to a great partnership with mature lovers, who have mastered jealousy, abandoned selfishness, care for each other, and share their interests, joys, and sadness, but most of all respect, and many laughs, and make the hearts sing.

This Golden Kid

I'd fallen from

The stars that

Crossed

In our lives.

Sparkling dust

Gilded sand

That flows from the

Heavens to your thighs.

We had created

This golden kid

Of wayward deeds

In intense pursuit

Zagreus’ name

Imprinted in his

Heart

This golden treasure

Of a being

We watched jealously

Your silver shield

On an August night

Wedged between him

And a long gnarled finger

Of Atropos

Snapping at her sharpened

Scissors

She’ll miss and cut

Your thread of life

Instead

However hard I fight her

Trying to hold both ends

Trying to mend

The slipping silky ends

And tragedy befalls

The golden lad

Who falls from heaven

And turns to dust

To gilded sand that trickles

Into the hourglass

Between your thighs.

Between your thighs

Where we all live

Some lived before

Some now seek warmth

And I was blessed

With kisses far beyond

The average

A guy could ever get

In such a short time

We covered all our

Conscious lives

In such a short time

And at a thousand

Meetings

Of deep melted

Spirituality

That crossed the head of

Purple and red

Perfectly well

Pitched to the rhythmic

Sounds of Casta Diva

The only one.

And then, out of the blue

The reigns of life slip from

Your hands

The horses of Pegasus

Bolt

And the pitcher of wine

Jumps from your hand

In a free fall, it reaches

The ground

To reshape into the body

Of a beautiful youth

Someone looking like a boy

With the face of a young

Woman

Able to change and fold

Through a metamorphosis

To the mind and body

Circe the enchantress now

Then a furious Orlando.

And off the coast of pyramids

And former giants

Excited by the looks of her

A Scylla in these days

Retiring to sheltered rock

And bay

But all that remains is this

Phallic rock

That once belonged to gods

And men.

The seaweed draws behind

As hair

And Scylla still has a presence

In my fear.

I see her swimming with a flag

And cushioned gear

Across the bay of the pyramid

But I dare not to follow

My hair will hold me back

It will guide me gently

To the beach

Where Eros lies and welcomes

Me

To lie and rest in my love’s

Favourite cave

He says

And that puts me to sleep.

I WAKE

Drifting continents

A pebble in my palm

Your body’s smooth

Undulations

A prick below the skin

From this palm

That grew regardless

Only to a word

I found abandoned

In two or three

Cleanly broken shards

Whose faces I cannot

Match.

Applying the jagged

Splinters into the crystalline

Floor

You ask me to clean

And lie upon

Close my eyes and leave

My carapace

A flattened marble

Smoothened by the

Poundings of your

Ray-swept body’s glare.

My mind up in the trees

A white bespectacled oriol

In the brush-stroked fir

You come and rub upon

In heat

Moans of pains

That pushes its vibes of

Ecstasy into me, alive.

A slab of marble white

And clad by soft green fir

Leafed against my piercing

Sleep

White dove

Still and demure

Taking her sun-filled bath

Flapping lustfully

Her pretty wings

Tucking back her head.

Black laced your back

And shapely derriere

Above my eyes rise

And the blue shutters of

A fun-filled day

Will close on the

Candle-lit day

That sinks a diving bird

Into its rippled silver dish

That lies hammered

As a plate of mirrored

Mountains

Olives

Firs

Your thigh’s sweet waters

Of life

Spent.

This work of placing words

Like shards

By far not even done

Its first excited leg

That lies over my chest.

In the lightness of a

Short-breathing dream

Pearls of your sweet drops

Rivulet down my chest

I feel you touch my belly

Kiss my excited soul.

Lace and Underwear

My mind has taken in

The glacier white of

Mountains

Fateful that first day in

The alps

And start a new life with

A woman and her friend.

My mind has been inundated

By calls of wild geese

The fauna and flora of the

Bushland

The wild and stormy

Marines

The rolling sea dire

Along the coast of Africa

To the point of the

Good Hope.

It was your mind

That called on me to find

Ways back across the

Dark of Continents

That swallowed pharaohs

And kings