Biography of Black Mendilouche
I don't profess to be anything other than a happy amateur where poetry is concerned, however I have always loved reading other people's work, especially the Metaphysical Poets. I come from a creative family and have a great love of photography and the arts in general. My photographs can be found on Flickr, using the same name as this site.
I am a solitary pagan and much of my joy stems from a connection with nature and Mother Earth. I have recently found my muse and though not with him in a relationship sense, he remains central to my creative spirit, enriching my life with his presence.
I don't have much time to write, as a single mother, with a full time job and currently studying towards a Master's Degree in Human Resource Management.
Peace and Blessings Mendi
Black Mendilouche Poems
Haiku For My Beloved
You were in my dreams again last night And they were plentiful. You pulled me close and held me tight
Morning winds blow ice-bound air, in curling gusts about my hair. Within, my toes are cosy warm - without, my shoes are scuffed and torn. With face pressed to the north I walk, abjuring folk and idle talk.
Stuck between a rock and a soft place; Caught on the horns of a dilemma. Whether ‘tis nobler to howl at the moon or stoic, stiff-lipped
Beside me and around me and in me, you fill me with the length of you. Measure for measure in matching pleasure
My MSN status says I’m available – how apt as I sit rapt and read the mail. ‘Its not you Its me – lousy timing’; my heart skips a beat.
Eager exit out the door collecting carrier bags from the floor. Happy, hopeful, scents the air leaving puddles everywhere.
Soul-mate stale-mate yielding heart meets steel plate. Sweet surrender soured by fate always pining for that date.
Poor Post Feminist
We’ve grown sperm in a Petri dish, and have power tools in pink, there’s gizmos for jar lids, and stuff for blocked up sinks. From suffragettes to girl-power we left the men behind, but while embracing my fundament I never lost the wonderment
Sterile heart, a husk of tough love; tangled in sheets of desire, yet hesitantly hoping for something more.
Crows crowd round the crumbs. Scattered memories sun-flayed. Pick up my pieces.
I kissed you as you smiled at me, your radiant face lit up the night. My arms snaked round and went to ground within that circle of delight. I nuzzled at your neck and smelt the wonder of your scent, the rain fell down yet time stood still; a lifetime in a heartbeat wrent.
The Lost Hours
I can no more turn my thoughts from you than ban the ebbing tide from flow, I understand the course you're on and whence the cause which bids you go. The loving son of mother loved, wends to her side in time of strife, My admiration in full flood despite this hiccough in my life.
Brute Adonis Sleeps
Brute Adonis sleeps while Winter in his heart he keeps; Yet Springtime’s nascent scent, colour to his dreams has leant. He loves, is loved/loves not;
The Lost Hours
I can no more turn my thoughts from you than ban the ebbing tide from flow,
I understand the course you're on and whence the cause which bids you go.
The loving son of mother loved, wends to her side in time of strife,
My admiration in full flood despite this hiccough in my life.
Had we but world enough and time, I would not weep for you nor pine.
But putting others foremost now must needs come first until somehow
We find a setting for our tryst and lie entwined in loving bliss.