O fore’er shall it be!
The lover’s eye
A shared soul
Yes
This is woman’s right
The strong howl
Of Eros
Oh Eros if you be
But when shall you be?
A passionate lover
Awaits her shared soul
In Sapphic right
Passion seared heart
In passive state
The state
Of true Eros
I knew it was pointless to try
And catch a songbird
She flies constantly in a careless Bohemian style
I wish I could be her, but I am a centaur
Caught in between convention and carelessness
I listen to her song, knowing a heart of gold
Is pounding in her lovely chest
To be close to the golden heart and her song
Would be so ideal and so beautiful
Almost too good to be true, something I’m not used to
I slowly wake up from my dreams and see
It was nothing but idealistic because
A fool cannot attempt to catch the songbird
Speak to me, muse of the violets
Whisper the secrets and folds of all feminine things
And take me to that abandoned rue
And recite verses of the blessed Lesbian from so many centuries ago
Violets…
Roses…
The peach skin of a woman, how intently you studied!
Sweetly tasted with a hungry mouth
Willing inked fingers studied those contours so intently
Shapes…
Curves and arches…
Fragrant ardent passion of the one you truly loved:
Pain the poetess must suffer to create beauty.
If you have enjoyed Bethany Condon's Poetry, then please be certain to Contact The Writer and thank her for posting her Work.
Click here for a list of all of Bethany Condon's Stories and Poetry at Sapphic Voices Authoresses.
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