ripe blackberry(for sagal)

like those blackberries
tender yet ripe
i feel your lips
feast on my skin
again and again and again
so much so
that i close my eys
and let that sweetness build inside of me
and what i say next
is a mixture
of pleasure prayer and peace
because
i cant wait
for the blessing of your kiss
to be mine once more.

haiku 1.7.09

it is not the ice
that makes you slip but just your
own lack of balance.

the smile that reigns(for sagal)

if you let it be
your smile could nurse dead stars
even with a slow smirk
it can speed up time
to grow forests of romance
so you needn't wonder
why i do anything possible
to make sure a smile
always reigns upon your face.

wistful watercolor(for sagal)

like a watercolor painting
i fear that these memories of you
may fade
the skies washing away
to translucent silver
green pastures
diluted with time's fast hand
and you
dearest sunshine
slipping into a shadowy second life
so with the brushes of my mind
i paint again
and again
with tears and these bright hues
of happiness you've given me
all to keep alive
the landscape of rapture
your presence brings me.

the funeral of your fears(for sagal)

you've insisted
on holding a funeral
for what lies between you and i
hurt from past loves and present families
force you to drive the nails in with vigor
rampant periods of silence
punctuated by bouts of tears
all of this i hear
sealed away in a casket
built with fine mahogany and sharpened fear
can't you comprehend
that this grave will never hold me
that this funeral will do nothing
but give birth to me
as a new sun etched into the folds of your heart?
even now i am breaking free
pounding on boards
punching and clawing at this darkness
fighting the good fight
for the beauty of you
until this casket erupts
and i stand before you
unscathed
strong
and all the more convinced
that the funeral you wished to take place
was for your fears
and not for me.

caligraphy of joy(for sagal)

tell me
do you remember still
that slow kiss laid upon your neck
with all the reverence one gives the holy?
does it linger
in those nights where
sedate brunches and attempts at freedom through soca
leave you still empty?
will you
still feel the burning pleasure
of my fingertips
tracing a caligraphy of joy
on your face?
the answer lies in your silence
my love.

haiku 11.11.08

i have no need for
houris; i have said that your
heart is my heaven.