by Kate Demeree
It seems when I try to write the joy he has given me
Nothing comes out right
Dear sweet god
It feels so very right to be with him
He has brought me to life
Given me joy
With a finger tip a touch
He plays my body
Like a fine instrument
Awakens yearning hunger
One that is insatiable
Until he takes me
Beside, behind, on top of
Or under mine
Makes me speechless
He walks through my heart
Makes me feel
Yet a child
Filled with wonder, awe
At this perfection of being
He fits me
Like a second skin
Is this love, is it lust?
I dont know
I just know
I dont want it
To ever stop
Posted on 05/21/2003
Copyright © 2021 Kate Demeree
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Ashok Sharda on 05/21/03 at 05:44 PM|
When every cell of our body is charged with refined energies, when our ever wandering attention is intact and stuck to the moment, when our mind and soul feels fullfilled and our senses starts sensing every touch intensely, then its, no doubt, awakening.
|Posted by Agnes Eva on 05/21/03 at 06:24 PM|
that sounds just lovely and refreshing. good to feel that way- it's a very honest poem from the heart (and other places heheeh)
|Posted by Rommel Cruz on 05/24/03 at 02:53 PM|
maybe someday you will know
|Posted by Glenn Currier on 05/25/03 at 04:10 AM|
You make passion a human instrument of the divine in the open and honest poetry of your heart.
|Posted by JD Clay on 05/25/03 at 11:56 PM|
Sensual poetry at its best here, Kate. Steamy stuff. Somebody open a window.
|Posted by Jeanne Marie Hoffman on 05/29/03 at 12:44 AM|
I thought of the same word used many times "Honest". The speaker explains her sensations and admits she does not know if it is love or lust. Many poems insist on everything being love, but this one accepts the possibility that it could be different.
|Posted by Ken Harnisch on 05/30/03 at 04:24 PM|
A beautiful ode to a love who brought you light.... and one only hopes he can see but a sliver of the luminesence for what it was and is
|Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 06/01/03 at 08:27 PM|
does it matter if it is lust or love we pour into our poems. must one seek to elevate one at the debasement of the other? can there be one sans the other? Beautifully posed poem, Kate.