With eyes, like owls - great horned or a night cat's
his arms, tree branched, heavy laden, strong
with legs, sturdy pillars for mountains climbed
hair of silken silver brushed upon my skin
his essence, forged by nights and wildfire pines
his reddened lips, softly melting into mine.

My touch discovers your
Body
I rain embers of desire:

The light over the portico
Elongated morning
     Your lips kiss the horizon
Inauguration of morning
       Your hair is a foliage
Tracing destinations
       The bed is a cloud under
The exploding sun
  I am in a daze
Perfect spirals

    The day ends with your awakening
Nothing can follow
    My eyes drowning in the
Rivers of your nakedness
    Time pauses
In the eternal moment
   Between the caressing
Improbable reverberation
    Your smile tears
Away shadows and reasons
    I swing on the light in your eyes
And leap with no fear
   At the precipice of the day
Cliffhanging the morning

She's looking in the mirror,
Getting ready to hit the club,
Smokey eyes on point,
She's just trying to let go
Of what she keeps inside.

Prettier than her surroundings,
But still lists her flaws upon her soul,
If only she knew,
That the sun battles the moon,
To see her first.

So bright, so great,
Her smile lights up the sky.

Everyday her spirit fights,
A battle she knows well,
Fearing to grasp,
The reaching hand.

A soul so pure,
You can see it clear,
While she's looking in the mirror.

Clouds In My Coffee
The Poets Woman
By
Jude Kyrie*

She looked at him devotedly
already he was writing.
Or had he been there all night?
She read his poem
over his shoulder.
She loved it, so beautiful
like a painting in words .

She lifted a lock of his hair
away from his tired eyes.
More as a sign
that he still belonged to her.
Perhaps a statement
of her undying love.

His cup of coffee untouched
now cold and cloudy.
A cigarette burned into
a line of ash in the tray

Did you like it my love?
he whispered almost a plea
of her affirmation.

It is beautiful darling
it comes from
within your beautiful heart.
It flows like fresh coffee
smooth like black gold.

Bolero
By
Jude Kyrie*

Sitting at the edge of the sea,
evening breezes.
cool the  memory of our love
I see it burning in its early passions.

The waves softly sing love songs
As they break on my bare feet
In the distance of the night
Someone is playing Bolero on a flute

I can feel their fingers on my heart
The salty air purifying my senses
breaking into old lost memories
of lovers  never found.

In the distance in the night
Someone is playing Bolero on a flute.
Note by note touching my soul
I feel the passions red and on fire.

I need the sultry air to drown my needs.
Reflection of moon and starlight on the waves.
to bring solace to my heart
Now uneasy at this intrusion but spellbound
It is so beautiful soft and passionate.

In the distance on this summer night
Someone is playing Bolero on a flute
And my soul is aching