Autumn glowed crimson and golden,
Jeweled leaves clinging to withering branches,
Glowing like the ruby richness inside me,
Waiting for the frost to hurry up and fall,
Praying to the North Wind
every time Mother turned her back.
Helios’ honeyed hues highlight the heavens and hearths,
I languish in my longing,
lingering lakeside,
lifting my lips to laurel leaves and loose air,
lids lazily closing.
Soon. . . my mind meanders through melancholy meadows.
A chill enters the air, lifting my hair ever so gently from my shoulders, the breeze kissing my neck
Like you do.
A mound of purple pansies
bursts violet beneath me.
Soon. . . sunlight drips through my hair,
Scattering sunbeams on my shoulders
while the fruit ripens on the tree,
my need for you. The heavy globes hang just out of reach. My tongue remembers the delicate skin, the juices, the nectar
bursting from within.
Soon . . . the chrysanthemums and camellias will release me,
As will Mother,
and the first perfect pomegranate
shall fall to earth.
Swallowing seed, I will follow.
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
I'm a weirdo nerd who’s extremely subversive. I like rocks, incense, and all kinds of witchy stuff. Intrusive rhyme bothers me.
I’m known as Dena Brown to the revenuers and pollsters.
MA English literature, College of Charleston
Keep reading
More stories from Harper Lewis and writers in Poets and other communities.
Fabric of You
The ivory jersey dress hangs in my closet nearly forty years into this tapestry, despite the years outside the loom. The flannel of your voice is the dominant fabric, sometimes just a thread between those velvet looks, silken caresses, and cashmere kisses that haunt my waking dreams, the burlap that terrorizes me in the conscious nightmares, the great holes, the gap bound by leather cords to the wool that eventually relaxes into the cotton and linen of our separate lives: light, easy things with their own special threads, patterns and ravels. Now, as I force those leather cords through the thousand thread count sheets we blindly wove to comfort us through the darkest night, I don’t know what your next thread will be: denim? gabardine? merino? but I feel you spinning it and know it will eventually weave into the textile of my life, and I will wear that dress again.
By Harper Lewis4 months ago in Poets
Comments (2)
Dayuuum this is is incredibly sensual and romantic without ever getting too crass or pornlike. Really well done and like Stephanie said there are some stunning descriptions and imagery at work here.
This is a beautiful love poem, and definitely a different take on Persephone and Hades's relationship than what they usually depict. Very well written; I especially love the descriptions throughout. It paints such a delicate, quiet scene.