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Art
November 2009 
Your Tear is my Fire
Posted on Feb 5th, 2009
by 
Doug
Doug
I'll hold you while you wet my shirt
in my arms with your tears,
and if you should find yourself here
the silk would slip to the floor
and we
melting together
into the floor
to become one
with the silk
I'm not sure I would sleep that night
I would be watching the dim light
of night time constellations
drift through your hair,
watching the rise and fall
of worlds
soft dreamy breathing,
wanting to touch you again
longing for the morning light
to illuminate the universe
of strange charm
in the rays of light
through a window,
that whisper
with silent fingers,
"Open your eyes
sleeper,
and have me again before breakfast."
And my desire
the warmth of sunlight on a frozen peak
and a single tear from the ice
and as it reaches the heat
of the valley
a raging torrential fire
flowing into the ocean of you.
in my arms with your tears,
and if you should find yourself here
the silk would slip to the floor
and we
melting together
into the floor
to become one
with the silk
I'm not sure I would sleep that night
I would be watching the dim light
of night time constellations
drift through your hair,
watching the rise and fall
of worlds
soft dreamy breathing,
wanting to touch you again
longing for the morning light
to illuminate the universe
of strange charm
in the rays of light
through a window,
that whisper
with silent fingers,
"Open your eyes
sleeper,
and have me again before breakfast."
And my desire
the warmth of sunlight on a frozen peak
and a single tear from the ice
and as it reaches the heat
of the valley
a raging torrential fire
flowing into the ocean of you.
Access: Public
Wow, this touches me beyond the Song of Solomon. This intense love goes beyond any comment.
Thank you Jeannie! When I was writing this I completely lost the reference of a me writing and the voice, although strangely familiar, isn’t mine, like I was just a volcanic conduit. This morning I found shattered yellow glass washed up on the beach, the remains of Pele seaweed.
out-of-one world, into another… … . . . . . . . . . .
Nice! Yes, beyond the point of no return and the numinous experience of falling silk is the crack in the doorway that we are called to walk through.
you are leading me into trouble or salvation doug dear
I hope so ;-)
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
incredible poem :)
this is very beautiful.
steamy poem!
an ancient voice, perhaps, calling to another - essence to essence
Hi Janie and TY! I’m not sure I’ve ever been hit with so much Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
before, so I’m not sure quite how to handle it. But I’ll manage!
TY Purtyroses! Nice to meet you!Smiles!
Hummy! Thank you! I was reading in a book this week that men need to take responsibility for fire and air and women water and earth. The point being some balance in these four elements. It seems that achieving that balance is always a little steamy and thank God for that!
Hey Nicole! Nice to see you! Yes a wordless calling in a voice before there were words. Yes, words are nice but there are ancient things even nicer then words.
WOW, Doug, I think this one is my favorite! ggl, thanks for taking me on a journey :)
;-)
I felt like I was at the edge of a whirlpool… then, toward the end of the poem I got squeezed down into the tip of an eye dropper and Plop… the frozen tear steamed up and fogged up my mirror.
TY Sprite! I’m always happy to take you on a journey and you’re such a great breakfast buddy too!
Coffee and more coffee and more sea air.
Hi Mary you’re ;-) is worth a million ;-)
Hey Pearly, So you could actually see the rear view mirror?
It looked like it was raining on the inside of the windshield and the parking lot was vacant, the movie long over.
Yeah, it was a fabulous movie… ;)
Really??? ;-)
“I’m not sure I would sleep that night
I would be watching the dim light
of night time constellations
drift through your hair”
very cool… i like best tho, from the comments:
“This morning I found shattered yellow glass washed up on the beach, the remains of Pele seaweed”…. Pele being the fire goddess of volcanoes … seems to fit marvelously with the ice on fire sensuality of the poem.
thanks for this, doug, hope all is well in your world and art.
Thank you Donny! Hmmm, yes that might actually work better to close the poem as I like to end with a decrescendo and a return to the here/now. Yes, a slight cool breeze might be the answer to the present humid ending.
All is well thank you!