Sonnettics

Come write for me, your words come from your soul
I write for you and like to lose control.
I need your words to penetrate my mind
within your words I’m hoping I will find
the kind of girl I’m seeking with my lines
I write in hopes my hope for you combines
my thoughts with what my body knows is real
I write the words I hope you want to feel.
Come write your words upon my naked skin
I’ll write you back by moving deep within
your sonnet. Write a couplet for my lips
and let me taste the rhyme come though your hips.
Come write, come sound your words, I need your sound.
I’ll write for you and lay you on the ground!

Succumb to my desire like a peach
I place my mouth upon to get the sweet,
the nectar from the fruit I suck from each
is cool and wet; with you I long for heat
the way your steam arises to my tongue
the way my tongue is dripping of you, wet
I love the way you taste, your song is sung
in every slurp I make; our bodies get
more warm by rubbing skin to skin, the flesh
of legs and stomachs heats us as we stretch
our organs feel the softness intermesh
and love is something real, we feel, we etch.
I want to come inside and hear you scream
It feels just like my hottest, fondest dream.

She doesn’t come to visit anymore
I guess the death and gore scared her away
or else she thought my verse a fucking bore
some hearts preclude my death and things I say.
I don’t expect their preference in the heart;
I find it hard to love; my heart is blue.
I need a lover now who knows the part
of me that’s sick, of me I thought she knew.
I do not judge; I only know myself
I will not hold a person to my thought
and love’s a feeling, not an empty shelf
but shelves will hold what’s sold or what is bought.
I bought my love to share, and shared it all
but then I sold my love within a fall.

Left arm, left hand, left shoulder did not move
when first my body broke, my left was still
But now I have a duty, I will prove
my left side needs to swim; I know it will
because my left is needed for my right
My body must have balance in the pool
or lake, the water needs to know my fight
is up against myself, the water cool
will bear the warmth of anger as I stroke
DeRuyter will be mine, my body flows
My arms in motion like my bike wheel spoke
around, around my left arm flies, it flows
And in the water, I will win the race
around the island to the starting place.

Let’s make our love inside all wrapped in calm
committed actions covered with the balm
discovered for the places, dry or hot
Although we don’t believe ourselves, we’re not
as dry as love required by something soft . . .
our love is made, a bedroom in the loft.
We rub the ointment on the tender skin
I love your hands upon me, I am in
a place with you, imagined from a dream
you rub the balm upon my skin, a cream
as milky white and cool, though you are warm
outside the rain begins, perhaps a storm
is coming. We will stay inside and let
the rain come down and make the garden wet

3 more couplets on this motif:

We’ll stay inside and listen to the rain
and rub the balm upon our subtle pain.
I have no pain when you are by my side
I’ll care for you and let you be my guide.
Just tell me where you’re tender and my hand
will rub the ointment. I’m at your command

To hear your name is like a gift of gold
To know the way you touch their hearts, I’m told
that you are sweet and lovely, but I know
more certainly than anyone can show
But show me more I beg when it is you
that makes my friends so compliment, my view
is roses made of sweetest flesh, your stem
is strong, and I allow the words from them
My friends believe my love for you is strong
And that I probably composed a song
or poem for my Mari, who I love
her metaphor will be a cooing dove.
A dove with strength and beauty is my mate
Her love for me is now; I need not wait.

Forgotten verse is like forbidden flame
I can’t remember poetry, her name
Is beautiful, but on my broken brain
I feel her song and feel I am disdain
I know they say I shouldn’t beat myself
But feeling doesn’t sit upon my shelf
And she can sing my disdain anytime
My poetry is full of trashy rhyme
But I would write her actions like the beat
of heart to heart or love that’s incomplete
One line may be the source of what we feel
I find the line and will before her kneel
reciting words that mimic beauty’s form
but wanting only taste of her that’s warm.

Expressions come without the sound of voice
Her eyes, her cheeks they move without a choice
She doesn’t choose to let me know she feels
attraction, so I think, like magnet steels
Her metal is creative, I would weld
Her shape with all my art and watch her meld
Her beauty needs no craft of mine to show
Perfection in the shape I want to know
I’d let her stay in her true lovely form
To love the perfect beauty of the norm.
I miss her voice, the sound of rolling pearls,
She sounds like all my memory of girls.
I love her noise or silence; I’m in love
with her, my lover, sweet, I’m thinking of.

My death was widely felt within my brain
and yet my brain was cognizant of death
My body felt my death as ugly pain
and yet my body felt with every breath.
Perhaps my death was not my final end.
I thought about the concepts of my life
I thought a lot about my loving friend
and how I loved and wished she was my wife.
and yet my wife was still my wife, I knew
that only one could stay within my life
I only want my loving friend; they slew
my “errant ” thoughts and gave to me my wife.
And yet I made a project of my soul
for what I truly needed to be whole.

How far is far away? How much is far?
Does love deny the distance? Does it mar
such beauty as the beauty I have seen?
Too far is nothing unsurpassed between
my visioned beauty lingering away
in gardens I have been to in the day
when she and I walked brightly, hand in hand
like acquiescence lived by our command
like water moves when heat is flowed within
our love and beauty linger skin to skin
the way your hand and mine refuse to part
or how your mouth reflects a loving start:
a kiss or something whispered to my soul
and signifies the distance as a goal.