A Picture of Desire (my first post!)

[Liliane]

A Picture of Desire

You chuckled as I stood
transfixed
my eyes locked
on the fleshy petals softly spreading,
their feverish bloody
smoothness begging

to be touched.

You stroked my hair
(just humoring a child)
It never struck you
this image threw me back
to that months ago time
when we chattered about Impressionism
made love inside the moonlight

for three hours of eternity.

You didn't see the resemblance--
the damp center of the flower
straining
for the sun as I had grasped at you,
twining my hands through your hair
fingers fluttering like the wings of young birds,
when your hot tongue was petal-soft
your mouth warm and welcoming

like newly turned soil.

And we talked of Mapplethorpe
phallic photography,
and you smiled so sweetly,
like dew clinging
precariously
to the edge of a rose.
You began to understand
I wanted this painting
to preserve these simple memories
like a flower bud trapped

between yellowed pages of an ancient book.

(shrug) :)
Lisha

[Michael Stephens]

This isn't bad. I made a few comments below. Hopefully, Jerry or Joy or
someone better at critique will give this a look-see. I'm lousy at it. Would
like to see more of your work though. Post some here.

Later.

ms
http://members.tripod.com/~mikestephens

Liliane <lil...@fastdata.net> wrote in message
news:37ae...@news.fastdata.net...

> A Picture of Desire
>
> You chuckled as I stood
> transfixed
> my eyes locked
> on the fleshy petals softly spreading,
> their feverish bloody
> smoothness begging
>
> to be touched.
>

Good beginning.

> You stroked my hair
> (just humoring a child)
> It never struck you
> this image threw me back
> to that months ago time
> when we chattered about Impressionism
> made love inside the moonlight
>

Hyphen between "months" and "ago". Also lose "chattered."

> for three hours of eternity.
>

Too hokey.

> You didn't see the resemblance--
> the damp center of the flower

How about "the flower's damp center" instead?

> straining
> for the sun as I had grasped at you,
> twining my hands through your hair
> fingers fluttering like the wings of young birds,
> when your hot tongue was petal-soft
> your mouth warm and welcoming
>
> like newly turned soil.
>

Good.

> And we talked of Mapplethorpe

Mapplethorpe's