My Heart is a Wild Place

 

My heart

is a wild place

But

I dare not tread

with loud feet

and ungloved hands

My heart 

Is a wild place

But

I move in subtle rhythm

With soft-coloured eyes

behind lashes

My heart 

is a wild place

But

Words are seldom

with a mute tongue

Surrounded by lips like cherries

My heart 

is a wild place

But

Touch is sharp

with finger tips

and nails

red

My heart 

Is a wild place

But

Pomegranate

and rose bush

twill in a wind

of frosty dew

My heart 

is a wild place

But

Once untameable

Now

sleeps peaceful

beside

loves

unspoken

tender tones

to tell a thousand words.

ALL WORDS COPYRIGHT

J.Calvert 2017

In a Garden Without Shade

My wings will wait 

in a garden 

without shade  

feathers bowed 

in the heat,

Fine hairs 

carelessly thread 

droplets of sweat gleam 

under a summer sun  

The weight of the garden bed 

and Rose bush spike, 

Jupiter scents the air 

to caress tired eyes 

In this paradise 

Built for one

little wings 

Untie 

Spread

two souls

take flight.
J.Calvert 2017

Heavy Hearts

My heart weighs heavy, under these densely-packed fronds.
J.Calvert 2017 

Images: Pinterest 

Little Pieces 

My heart a million little pieces reflecting light, illuminated under the stars tonight. 

Words J.Calvert 2017 

Image: Pinterest edited

To Kiss A Girl – Revised

I’ve always wondered

What it’d be like,
to kiss the lips, of a girl,
Soft and smooth,
like my own,
open and ripe;
the arc of her lips
pressed against the curve of my tongue,
to please
and feel the stir,
to stroke and suffer,
the sensations – textures of silky skin,
of two hearts beating in perfect applause,
to thread and tie,
the gather, of her strings,
the grip of her curiosity,
dearly – grasping my wrists,
in heated desire
our bodies dripping wet,
bound between curiosity and knowing
our bodies, to discover
each extinguished edge,
on the threshold, of the end,
to shake and tremble, delicate in our adore,
what it’d would be like,
to kiss a girl.

@J.CALVERT WRITTEN IN 2016, REVISED IN 2017.

A Braid Of Blue Horizon

Fragrant scents linger still
on light wind;
across the mill
Speaking to the trees
whispers softly spoke,
Between visions of gold;
lies Calla-Lilies
Bold
Trumpet shaped
paper-like bulbs
Painted in oil strokes,
Across Western Isles,
a braid of blue horizon
A hazy day unfolds
The hours between us;
filled with wordless minutes –
seconds slip
through our fingers
No matter how we cling
Voiceless
The silent sea
and the land moans sweetly
Words fail our sensibilities,
Disentangled by the strings that cast
and bind our hearts
Our senses curve above the sun,
The clouds a husky front –
The sound of silence
Speaks to us,
In the garden of our dreams.

@ J.CALVERT 2017

Photography courtesy of Pinterest