Monday, April 16, 2012

Mag #113 Hot Chocolate From Our Other Lands

Red Roofs, Marc Chagall, 1954
I feel like I am in way too deep
while away on vacation too
this partial sleep opened up fully
to reveille in your reveal
Hot chocolate heaven scent you
I sense you are here
as I cup my hands around your brew
having swum so close to you
feeling your every move
you are sleeping too
your shallow breath
awakens memories of us
having swung by your way
on the way to the forum
to hover over you
my lover-friend
and by the way
the pleasure is all mine
dancing so merrily along,
til dawn draws the lines
never too late for all night openers
sipping the sweet nectar of ma' honey's dreams
the essential acquiescence of your essence rare
slurping the last the tiniest droplets
love is Adam's dew
Sitting here watching you watch the sunset
slowly a bright solar rouge
the brightest carnelian red in the box
setting sun
the colour of the west highlights
your high cheekbones
your blue black hair darker than the damp night air
while in the east the night's lush curtain crashes
adding lightening and thunder cymbals
the finale swan song
sung full arpeggio in low hush tones 4/4
it is the forties swing time
the bright red night alights
the orbiting disc does ignites
cover us like a tablecloth
a flicking ember of remembrance
Les heures we spent in Our Parisian cafe
where you always ordered
hot chocolate I called you on the phone
you melted in my mouth
powerful pinwheels of light
twinkle like Tinkerbell's wand
whoosh; do you feel it?
Peter Pan's magic begins
afloat into the street
eyes enlarge reading
saucy leaves in saucers
you were perfume suspended
atomized by the evening news
frozen forms waved from the rooftops
and I at the top of my lungs screamed
"I am so in LOVE"
the pleasure is all mine
you cried
your tears ran down the drainage pipes
and I captured the flotilla of your emerging essence
so mote it be; it is mine as well
these swirl of undulating energies
captured in our cocoon room
lift up up the curtain higher and higher
float to my will my darling
we feel this fullness impregnate us
surround sound LOVE vibrations
528 MHz
Chopin, to our chagrin
still tinkles the ivories
making us swoon and coil like tender tendrils
so in love
the moonlight at the midnight velvet hour
blankets us all in with a nuptial kiss n' bliss
so tantalizingly our read in bed book of Kama sutra
adorns us avatars gods and goddesses of the affable light.
savouring the night's many flavours
saving all this exotic eternity
from our other lands to repeat
in lingerie we linger sipping
imbibe as we do, in delight, in these sweet things
petting our French poodle
we have no substance
this tantalizing nectar of our dreams
our only sustenance is LOVE
Thanks for the memories Tess Kincaid...Join us here for a taste of fine painting;


  1. Arpeggios from Hell...guitar lesson

    1. our only substance is love..i like that...nice close on this...and heaven scent hot chocolate does not sound bad either...smiles.

  2. Essentially acquiescent words of beauty, once again, JJ .

  3. thank you for this seductive, loving journey. your writing brings
    each moment, thought to life.

  4. Cracking poem filled with music magnificento tones. Yngwie Malmsteen makes it look so easy, doesn't he, whereas I struggle to even pronounce his first name!

  5. Very sensual, luch write. Nimble word play too. Really well done.

  6. On the way to the forum made me giggle...