That word

There is a word we all have spoken,
a word as eternal as time,
a word not easily uttered,
although, it is whispered and shouted,
while it contains the parable of existence,
poets, cannot explained this word, yet
it is comprehended, and, misunderstood,
cleaved, it becomes a dichotomy,
a pronouncement of hate and desire,
such a word is at creations center,
a single word that begins a journey,
a step into insanity, jealousy,
a voyage of commitment, peace, tranquility,
it describes the deepest ocean,
circumscribes the limits of the cosmos,
has the power to drive nations to war,
or, cause giants to tremble as a babe,
it can bring souls together, as well as
force them apart into despair,
such a word is a magical source,
it should never be used foolishly,
for it has made fools of us all,
having conquered its tremendous power,
accepting it for its eternal beginning,
vowing ones heart to its burden,
is to become free, soaring lighter than air,
basking in its warm consuming light,
it is that word, which gives joy,
spoken in the brilliance of dawn,
murmured under the coverlet of twilight,
it is a reason for living and for life,
all languages contain this word,
sadly, few have the wisdom to say it.

©2012, Donald Harbour

Thy prickly canes

Thy prickly canes!

Rose,
you have stems of beauty,
a fragrant blossom of love,
red garnished and velvet lipped.
Thou art a wonder of life,
and yet a thorny conundrum,
guarded by thy prickly canes,
all the while beckoning.
Your magic perfume consumes me,
thus its musky allure invites.
You have but to present yourself,
and so, to your occasion I respond,
for you, patulous pretty, my erotic heart,
rose.

©2012, Donald Harbour

Lost in your moment

The blistering heat of summer
has been replaced by
the cool mint of your smile
the rush of day slowed
halted by your gentle breeze
you linger in my thoughts
the wisp of your memory
the manna that feeds me
where the sun is a keen knife
your touch dulls the blade
even in the sweat of a moment
you are a clear mountain pool
a reflection of winter’s beauty
now life sustaining, giving
why were you made perfect
and, why are you among mortals
writing words speaks not of you
only being in your presence
defines your immense treasure
summoning the glory of your love.

©2012, Donald Harbour

Passions potion

This eve there is a pristine magic,
It floats softly on the still air of night,
A potion vapor by desire’s sorceress,
Reflected in the moon’s golden light.

Held not by man or woman or beast,
As dandelion seeds drift on parasols,
The whimsical spirit wavers to want,
Shunning all but love’s whispered calls.

There wanders it through heart and soul,
Caught in a dream catchers spider thread,
To flame the passion tangled there,
Of entwined bodies on a silken bed.

©2011, Donald Harbour

And, when

For the one I love.

***********************************************

My Mother Earth Goddess

And, when we come together
holding forth our orbs of light
And, when those lights combine
as if two suns met and burn
And, when I see the heavens
twinkle as stars set in your eyes
And, when I feel your warmth
caressing as the morning dawn
And, then I know that we are one
for all time molded by love
And, I am become soaring everlasting
on eagle wings through burnished blue.

©2011, Donald Harbour

A child’s memory

She stood alone among the trees
a woman formed ripe with life,
a perfect beautiful figure
alone and naked in the light.
With confused mind I watched her
while peering through the leaves,
blushing at the vernal scene,
her auburn hair dancing in the breeze.
I could not find air to breath,
my lungs suffocated with my guilt,
yet hidden I viewed her mesmerized,
shuddering with the disgrace I felt.
She stepped into a placid stream,
a bare ripple on the watery plane,
slowly swimming from my sight,
disappearing among river cane.
As if the moment was yesterday
I still smell wild flower’s bloom,
I hear the tinkling water flow,
and the call of a lonely loon.
Fifty-six years have passed me by,
the spot grown over where I stood,
yet an adolescent emotion haunts me,
shamed by a vigil in the silent wood.

©2011, Donald Harbour

My boot upon her back

This poem is written in celebration of Earth Day, 2011 – with love ♥ for Gaia.

she lays before me
bare breasted
those lusty mountains
skirting the temptation
of a flat dimpled plain
with her loins
strong as coastal shores
she calls to me
her suffering body
suckling her children
taking their abuse
she persists in her love
gathering all of them
into the folded crooks
of her bridled arms
she blossoms in spring
wears a girdle in autumn
is a cold scornful woman in winter
frolicks in the summer sun
she possess all the seasons
holds unknown wisdom
this tempestuous creature
where the seeds of life
swim in the fluids
of her sheltering being
I too love her
though I have placed
my boot upon her back
she cries not
her lack of tears
shames me rips at my heart
I am a lesser man
as are all men for what
they have done to her
yet she accepts us back
Mother Earth always forgives

© 2011, Donald Harbour

She moves with chili pepper heat

Mien zaftig Saffira

Saffira is a beautiful zaftig woman,
Entering a room with a feathery swish.
All the men gasp, become quiet,
Silent except for a slight susurrus,
An undertone of electrical crackle.
The women complain, saying of her,
“A tuches un a halb!” – no, not Saffira.
The older women call after her,
“Chap ein a meesa meshina!”
Saffira only smiles, warmly, knowingly,
A smile that could illuminate any castle.
There is a small starfish tattoo on
The swell of her left breast.
Some thought it to be a Star of David,
But it is in truth a starfish.
The colors of this aquatic creature have
A luminescence that is ethereal.
As she moves, her oceans gently sway
And the starfish swims in rhythm.
She walks lightly with a crisp step,
The oscillation of her hips, sensuous.
Her eyes the color of African amethyst
With flashes of turquoise specks.
A glance from Saffira envelops one
In a saffron glow, a chili pepper heat.
She is ebullient with life’s joys
Showing her resilience and resoluteness.
Saffira is a living Rubens work of art,
An effervescent sparkle of the Divinity.
Males seem poised to zoom in upon her,
Desiring to crack the crunchy acorn of lust.
But then she dances across the floor,
Saffira sees only me and I see only her.

Written for Wordle prompt #3

Copyright: 2008, Donald Harbour