The Blood Of The Poet

35 Comments

The Blood Of The Poet



The Blood Of The Poet (2012)

Centuries;
a memory was never meant
to last that long,
and they don't.

The moments from when I was alive
have been reduced to that of
a grain of sand on the beach;
invisible, worthless, unnecessary.

They are lost to the flood of memories
thoughts, visions, dreams
and fantasies of so many others.
The blood holds all,

every moment of life
just waiting to be read,
waiting to be remembered,
waiting to be tasted.

I remember my first poet.
She was elegant and graceful
yet raw and wild in spirit
She overflowed the senses of all she met. 

She wrote as if
the power of divinity
was in her fingertips
capturing all, with her words.

I remember her essence,
a song like no other,
intoxicating, overwhelming,
filling me with hunger.

I could not resist...

It was early in the night
late autumn,
I came to her as the mist
peaceful, on a breeze.

I brushed her skin,
gliding along the surface
unnoticed, uninhibited,
she breathed deep in response.

I wrapped around her slowly
under her gown,
touching every inch
her song echoing into the night.

A willing captive to my spell
she inhaled me taking me in,
making me a part of her
baring her soul.

When I took form
I felt the warmth of her skin,
She trembled slightly from my cold hands
and relinquished her will to resist.

Writhing within my arms
helpless, breathless,
she was moist with sweat
overcome with lust.

My mouth watered
my eyes widened
my grip tightened
my hunger unleashed

I sank into her
the rush filled me,
I had to pull back
just to control myself.

Her song, relentless,
called to me fueling my hunger
I sank in deeper this time,
and drank in the flood of her dreams.

The scent of jasmine
carried on a spring breeze,
the power of a wave
cresting and crashing against the sand,

the sound of a mourning dove
joyful and free leaping to flight,
the passion of a simple touch
from the hand of a lover.

I pulled back again
trying to resist
but my hunger
now screamed for more.

Sinking in even deeper
there were shooting stars
moonlit walks, child's laughter
tears of joy, and sorrow.

I felt the exhilaration of
riding on the back of a horse
it's speed, it's strength,
the wind.

I wanted her, all of her;
every moment
every feeling
every memory,

so I sank in even deeper
piercing through all her barriers,
my hunger was now in complete control.
Acting on pure instinct, I fed with vigor.

Tears flowed from her eyes
her pleasure captured her breath,
all she ever was flowed freely
emptying into me,

and then I found it;
The moment I had so missed,
the sight never to be seen
by my eyes again.

There within her deepest memories,
within her most guarded feelings of pleasure,
the sun rose over the horizon
filling all with hope, warmth and light.

My body shuddered uncontrollably
my skin burned with anticipation
expecting to feel that warmth once again,
but then my eyes opened to the reality.

I slowly pulled back
looking down at her lifeless body,
hearing her song from within

I wept

 


 

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TwilightLover commented on The Blood Of The Poet

02-10-2012

Grrrrrr y u no keep it here i liked it alot. tiz not fair liked it alot meanine jk sort of

irreverent commented on The Blood Of The Poet

01-15-2011

You .eave us speechless and spellbound, thirsting for more. So much of you haunts these pages.

danmartyjake1 commented on The Blood Of The Poet

01-12-2011

This has to be one of my all time favorite writes and I thank you for opening your soul up to write it so perfectly.

KING commented on The Blood Of The Poet

01-12-2011

The burden of love and immortality combined with the thirst to live through blood as all vampires must. If it were up to you love would have been as far as it goes, but the thirst always wins. Besutiful!

aysha commented on The Blood Of The Poet

12-26-2010

You have a gift for writing. I really think this is a touching poem. 10 by me!!!

Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

Artie’s Poems (71)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Fireflies 1
My Final Prayer 1
A Whisper Behind The Scream 3
She 2
Miss You 1
Speechless 1
Clarity 2
Believe 3
The Song Of My Life 2
A Piece Of Me (2012) 5
The Children Of The Night 5
House Of Cards 2
A Journey To The Surface 3
Until Next Time 2
Sinister 2
One Life 3
Irreverent Pleasures 19
Prelude To A Nightmare 23
Scratching The Surface 27
Conundrum 19
Defeated 33
The Blood Of The Poet 35
Beyond The Looking Glass 24
Embraced 22
The Night Of Eternal Light 18
The Forbidden Fruit 19
The Creator Of Tomorrow 15
The Band Played On 16
Mortal Memories, Immortal Thoughts 22
Fade 23
Unfinished & Untitled 16
The Machine 16
Instrument 20
Beyond My Grasp 26
The Day I Lost Aim 17
Cyclone 18
I Await 52
A Decade Of Stone 18
#1 20
The Mask Of Fear And Doubt 13
...they don't exist 12
A Breath Of Air 16
More Of You 18
Hostage 10
Soulless Solace 14
Power Outage 15
Why I Believe 23
Duet 21
Forever Unfinished 28
Gravity 24
Cosmic Smoke 46
Surviving The Storm 36
Feed 29
Everyday 23
Reborn 35
Overcome 35
Hmmm... 28
What Does This Mean To You? 31
The Beacon Ignited 18
Purify 25
Endless 12
One Moment In Time 30
A Peek Inside 28
A Piece Of Me 20
The Ocean 26
A Beacon Of Light 27
1987 26
A Cold Future 15
The Child Who Could Fly 43
Your Path 20
The First Thoughts Of Love 28