Making Poetry

The art of making a poem -

Not with words

With glance, touch and breath…

Your strong hands grace my skin,

My curves and edges,

Indulgent and pliable

Fingertips in creases,

Feeling shadow and contour,

The hot wires of my nerves;

Tracing blue pathways down my arms

Lips brushing against translucent flesh.


You might capture me;

And I am caught on your mouth

Like a fish on a hook,

Helpless to resist

As the poetry unfolds,

Like the finest silk paper

The wings of a quivering moth.

Your stubble rasps against my cheeks,

Eyes are blazing

Control is waning,

As the poem crests

Like a bright full moon,

Riding on a chariot of ragged clouds.


You send a prayer to heaven,

And your voice is hoarse

With nothing more to give,

And no power high enough

To express the heady feeling.

Melding together, joined by fate,

Waves lapping against a nubile shore,

And a million grains of sand

Cannot compete in number,

With the supplications

Tumbling from your lips.


  • Maxine Smith

    Love this piece.

  • kevin browne

    A superb bit of poetic imagery blooming from start to finish. I was certainly captured with this one. Great work!

  • Goddess of the Mist


  • FineB

    Delightful Serenwise!

    A wonderful poem and spoken by a poet indeed!

    Keep writing Fine B

  • Goldfinch60

    Super loving write SerenWise.

  • sylviasearcher

    Exsquisitely written 🌟

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