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
For you my love.
This flower began as a single bud,
Small but strong and true,
Nurtured by the roots of life,
It became a rose stem and grew.
Wrapped tight against outside harm,
Its petals formed and flourished,
The tender care of mother nature,
A promise to protect and nourish.
It is a symbol of the love we share,
All the things out of love you do.
It is a promise that my heart is yours,
That my forever Valentine is you.
©2011, Donald Harbour
Your lips are divine
creations, American Beauty
rose petals, moist, opening
to loves jeweled morning dew,
beckoning with the red of passion.
A whisper of breath
from between those parted
chalices of desire, nectar,
the perfume of your heart,
a pulsating moment of completion.
The thought of caressing
their velvet fullness excites,
igniting a fire deep inside,
spreading warmth to every limb,
every particle of this body.
Anticipation is a quivering,
slow motion pressing of flesh,
a sweet taste of nourishing honey,
the cascading rapture of bliss,
a brief soaring on angel wings, Heaven.
Copyright: 2008, Donald Harbour
Donald Harbour Poetry 