My time in the shadows has darkened me to pale yellow
words that sing in the jazz moment of knowing
how the rhythm undresses the silky smooth curves
of the rhymes that bloom and blitz in the moment
Bright light stuns my eyes as I try to squint
at the luminescent blue visuals that step into place
as gingerly as the last woman I seduced
with an open hand upon my heart.
I am a lover of beauty and brains. It is
but natural to be magnetised by the mind
of the other person who sees 3 D drawings
in the fragment of a captured moment.
Why do women sensualise feeling that much more?
There are many on AP that tick the right boxes
with their artistry of the spoken and written words.
Naming them all would expose their flawless skins
of pristine poetry to public gaze.
I am also selfish wanting
to roll and tumble in their mastery of liquid language,
just to caress their velvety words with my fascination!
Write on my beauties. Write on.
My heart flutters for you a thousand times
more as I bathe in the silky soap suds
of your sensuality.
Ode to Inspiration.
Marshall Gass's Other Poems
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