"I Love You, Nado" (revised and with a picture)

Monday he came back for me,
Like he had before.
Deep inside I knew I had to go.
With his hard hands he handled me,
He handled me so…

When he took me Monday
I had your favorite dress on.
It was like dying slowly.

Tears stayed hidden, longing for our sacred union
Where your maleness was my blessing,
And my presence was your soul's desire.
We were brilliant and unscathed.
You hushed my quivering fears.
In our first awakening, you found my softness
And nightly kisses swallowed each breast.

The last time your gentle hands
Caressed my little fingers,
I breathed softly into your mouth
And I gave my burdens rest.

But by October, Fear ascended to betray.
Quietly creeping, preparing you for war,
Falsely accusing our love too pure.

Now I exhale tears

Wth every borrowed breath.
They fall everywhere now.
They wander within the rustling leaves
When trees release their shriveled uselessness.
And when chill is birthed
They salute icicles with awe-full knowing.

~

He’s calling for me, Nado.
I don’t want to settle for his company.
Come back, please save me.

Don't leave me where
He can handle me…
Where he can handle me with his hard hands.

© 1997 April R. Silver

Photo Credit: Saddi Khali

Poetry: Near Sunset Haiku

Hard, white-haired, poet
Never knew “miss you” pangs
Now unstudies love.

Copyright, 2010, April R. Silver

POETRY: "Grandma Mae Said" Haiku

Looka here lil gurl,
When throwed up against a wall
Even cats fight back.

Copyright 2010, April R. Silver

POETRY: Contains Adult Content

The title of this poem is not "Contains Adult Content," LOL! That is my blog post disclaimer. This is an erotic poem, reader discretion is advised.


"Just Call My Name"

Your voice feels good in my ear
So you can tell me anything tonight...just purr.
Purr into the curve that is the nook of my neck,
Just beneath the lobe, right above that shoulder.
It's the ripple of your purr
That makes my breasts hmmmmm.

Then play. Yes, let your tongue dance deeply
In that canal with hot molasses kisses.
Kiss slowly down the spine: slow thick fire breaths.
Behind my breasts, trace the letters of my name
With your moist piece.
Round them into new meanings all night
Where Left is South and Down is East:
All the same/direction where my head
Is swimming in.

When you call my name
I hear your sex
Heavy in my head.
Like blossoms who obey
Sunshine's calling,
I rise for you,
Arch my spine,
Lift my legs,
Throw my head back,
Nipples attentive for you.

When you call my name
I am April in springtime,
Perched on the shoulder of a
Honeysuckled breeze,
Or a glorious morning
Returning from a silver moonlit gaze.

Yes Love, whisper.
Whisper my name gently
In the tone that is your gift to me.
It's the manhood in your voice
That stirs my sweetness,
And makes me yours tonight.

© 2005 April R. Silver

Quote of the Week: On Houses (Kahlil Gibran)

Greed is money's biggest client. Comfort is the context. The money-changers (Wall Street) have built houses made of straw. Read this week's quote from Khalil Gibran:

"And tell me, people of Orphalese, what
have you in these houses? And what is it
you guard with fastened doors?
Have you peace, the quiet urge that reveals
your power?
Have you remembrances, the glimmering
arches that span the summits of the mind?
Have you beauty, that leads the heart
from things fashioned of wood and stone to
the holy mountain?
Tell me, have you these in your houses?
Or have you only comfort, and the lust
for comfort, that stealthy thing that enters
the house a guest, and then becomes a host,
and then a master?

Ay, and it becomes a tamer, and with hook
and scourge makes puppets of your larger
desires.

Though its hands are silken, its heart
is of iron.
It lulls you to sleep only to stand by your
bed and jeer at the dignigty of the flesh.
It makes mock o f your sound senses, and
lays them in thistledown like fragile vessels.
Verily the lust for comfot murders the
passion of the soul, and then walks grinning
in the funeral.

Poetry: "I Love You, Nado"

I Love You, Nado
(inspired by Nina Simone's "I Loves You, Porgy")

Monday he came back for me,
Like he had before.
Deep inside I knew I had to go.
With his hard hands he handled me,
He handled me so…

When he took me Monday
I had your favorite dress on.
It was like dying slowly.

Tears stayed hidden, longing for our sacred union
Where your maleness was my blessing,
And my presence was your soul's desire.
We were brilliant and unscathed.
You hushed my quivering fears.
In our first awakening, you found my softness
And nightly kisses swallowed each breast.

The last time your gentle hands
Caressed my little fingers,
I breathed softly into your mouth
And I gave my burdens rest.

But by October, Fear ascended to betray.
Quietly creeping, preparing you for war,
Falsely accusing our love too pure.

Now I exhale tears with every borrowed breath.
They fall everywhere now.
They wander within the rustling leaves
When trees take their gentle beatings.
And when chill is birthed
They salute icicles with awe-full knowing.

~

He’s calling for me, Nado.
I don’t want to settle for his company.
Come back, please save me.

Don't leave me where
He can handle me…
Where he can handle me with his hard hands.

© 1997, 2005 April R. Silver