Sneak

5 Comments

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  • Love

    Sneak

    How do you stop the tide of thoughts --
    the ebb and flow of tangled froth?

    I lose my self
          .....in the sweep of your lashes.....
          .....in the curves of your lips.....

    My sight is drowning me.

    Soon senses stutter
    allowing adrenaline achievement

    My mind is tripping over my love
                bouncing
                skipping

    a flat pebble
                pouncing, dancing
    over mirrored water;
    a catterpillar lifting wings to sky

    I cannot stop the tide.

    Where did you come from
    to sneak so sneakily upon me?

    Reading, reminscing, 'rithmeticking my bills
    solace-finding, soft-reclining solitude

    I enjoyed it in my dark, candle-lit room
    and hung my mantra
    ("No love solicitation please!")
    on my door.

    You have come as the tide;
    using my senses to drown me,

    Using my longings against me.

    My skin perspires in shock --
    this body knows yours!

    Though sight has never laid eyes on you.

    Why do you come now with tender expressions,
    and lips sensuously cruel?

    Beckoning me away from my haven --

    "It is beautiful outside,"
    you whisper against my cheek,
    opening the door.

    And my heart believes you,
    Even as my eyes turn to seek the sun
    in your arms.

    Poem Comments

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    therejected commented on Sneak

    09-21-2009

    such wonderful imagery you have portrayed in this poem. i really enjoyed reading it, wonderful job.

    Hampton commented on Sneak

    09-16-2009

    An almost ghostly encounter leading to romance... and other things. Very well written poem.

    Charlie23 commented on Sneak

    09-14-2009

    This is a beautiful poem! To love without seeing, is hard to imagine, but I can imagine it, and bet it's true love!

    gutsXglamXgore commented on Sneak

    09-09-2009

    This is a beautiful poem. Deary me, I love it. =)

    Kdaddy commented on Sneak

    09-09-2009

    Sensual and beautiful. The imagery soothing and clear. I enjoyed reading this.

    Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    Jammin’s Poems (49)

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