Merging tributaries

You were my darkness, voids between explosions
warmth of marbled flesh, blood in crosshaired
wait. Our limbs were floods, a merge of tributaries,
trickled beads on skin our wont. Our canvas finger-
painted, lips on lips. A fragrant greed we were, but
doomed by law as secrecy of hands are traced
in marks of moans. In stains of sheet and striations
fingernailed on buttocks bare. We danced ourselves
insane, we fireworked, but afterwards we sizzled
shame, veneered morality, slipped and said goodbye.
But in my dreams, we are entwined, your hair
cascading on my thighs. We knead the dough
of flesh, and craved we carve anew enchantments
when as nested, corpsed we detonate again.


Today at toads Brendan inspire us to write about the Paramour the sinful lust, the winds, the fire burning… I guess you can call this a free-verse sonnet. I will also link this to Poets United tomorrow morning.

March 12

47 responses to “Merging tributaries

  1. Your poem depicts the excitement….but yet, with the knowledge, that all that exists really is darkness and little more than void! The craving is intense, but is it worth it?

  2. “You were my darkness” … I think “were” implies that something that was darkness for you is now your light.

    I’m trying to grab sections to highlight, but this is just too good to segment. I guess this is probably what I’m most impressed with: “Our limbs were floods, a merge of tributaries” … well, and this: “doomed by law as secrecy of hands are traced in marks of moans”; I also really like the hair references.

    And this is very interesting, as far as your layering goes: “We knead the dough” … you’re sneaking in “need” and “bread,” which to me joins the “cross” mentioned above to add a spiritual element. Also, I wonder if “dough” could also refer to money (we need the money … to run away together; something like that).

    I love love love the ending: “when as nested, corpsed we detonate again” … It makes this one of those timeless loves that goes beyond death. Or maybe you’re referring to the fact that you’re bound (to someone else) by marital vows, which won’t be broken until you die. Or maybe it’s just that “small death” reference you like to sneak it now and then.

    Exceptional poem.

  3. This is stunning! I have read it multiple times and it’s so hard to isolate anything specific out of it because I love it ALL, every last word, but perhaps this is what resonates most for me because it tells such an emotionally intense and complete story:
    “We danced ourselves
    insane, we fireworked, but afterwards we sizzled
    shame, veneered morality, slipped and said goodbye.” Phenomenal, Bjorn 🙂

  4. As they say some things that are not so legal are oftentimes adventurous and exciting. The sensuality in this piece is oozing, Bjorn.

  5. I think this is what I was trying to say, but not as well as you:
    “Our limbs were floods, a merge of tributaries,
    trickled beads on skin our wont.”
    This is a work of art, Bjorn. The Magritte is hardly necessary, for the canvas you have painted contains more depth and emotion and understanding of the union of lovers than his can convey.

  6. The crash and spark of rivers would be good to stay longer in the fireworks of that merging point and yet like water we must move and wait and move again — the painting is enchanting also

  7. The nakedness here is the grail-cup, the only way to get this deep into the enchanting woods: a raw down and dirty act of pure spirit. How close can we get to the world? How naked are we willing to be? And what does the ritual really mean? The brilliant play of opposites in the last line tells us all we need to know. Great stuff, Bjorn.

  8. The word choice does a perfect depiction, I loved that you say “crosshaired wait”, it was the moment that brought the edge of the poem for me.

  9. carve anew enchantments
    when as nested, corpsed
    we detonate again.

    The makings of a raucous night very apparent. Great ending Bjorn!


  10. lot of passion here
    ” We danced ourselves
    insane, we fireworked,” – my favourite lines
    Thanks for dropping in at verses to read my response.

    My Sunday Lime for this week is up
    much love…

  11. Really love this one Bjorn, and it really nails the prompt too–some things are unforgettable, and we return to that fireworks show always hoping the rain that extinguishes it will not show up–my favorite line is ” A fragrant greed we were..’ (!) Perfect.

  12. You said it a lot prettier than I did with this sonnet, Bjorn. Lol! I loved it! “Fingernailed on buttocks bare”, some of it make me giggle. Hugs!

  13. Wow! Powerful. I love “our limbs were floods, a merge of tributaries”…..I can see the wrinkled sheets, you write so descriptively. I love the format, too.

  14. Bjorn, this might just be my favorite poem you’ve written. Every line is so nicely constructed, and they all fit together perfectly. And the subject is beautifully told… with a lurking madness that I admire!

  15. This is deep research on any relationships affected our bodies and soul, mentally connecting and leaving scars and ‘engravings’, ‘in my dreams, we are entwined’ ~ mature free sonnet forming~

  16. This is pure naked delight, from beginning to climax. I love the longing, the closeness, the raw connection that feeds this relationship… and these words: “Our canvas finger-
    painted, lips on lips.” just delicious. ♥

  17. I suspect some needed a cold shower after reading this. It’s so sexual, sensual, real and a little sad because forbidden love has its own excitement but can never be fully happy. This is a great write Bjorn.

  18. Whew! Reading this leaves me breathless…with admiration for your wordsmithing skill.

  19. Sensuality defined. This is so full of exquisite sensory details. There is something so much more exciting about forbidden love, sadly. I think it’s the risk and the knowledge that it can never really be completed.

  20. It’s actually impossible for you to write something ok isn’t it? It’s always bloody brilliant!

  21. That’s the hottest thing I’ve read in ages – in all sorts of ways. (And even given that everyone is producing wonderful pieces in response to this prompt.)

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