Peas Porridge Hot
Peas Porridge Cold
for D.B.A.
knees for prayers
need for prayers
were she as near, as available
and I could have, could do
what ever I wanted
I’d want to worship her
with kiss, with kisses
letting them fall first
upon two knees
slowly up thighs I’d climb
and when I could
no longer linger,
hold back tears
I’d let them fall
along with two lips
where already she’d be
as wet as leaves
of trees in rain
knees for prayers
need for prayers
even sitting,
she and I standing
in the need of prayer
knees for prayer
long periods to pray
in Christ the King
to Christ the King
what knees now to worship
what need now to worship
art to worship
aught to worship
knees to bend,
to kneel, to pray
wherever you are
on any floor
on any day
ii.
poem in my notebook
two days old
I have to type and polish
post, link you to it
not about where you gat me
how you gat me
right this instant
right right now
want to give this word
here words, now words
hot words
right out of the oven of love
want you to know
the exact nature of this affair
our affair, of this affliction
two days and word from you
and I entirely alert
ears like deer’s ears
sensing danger
a breeze, a scent
of lion or other predator
deer ready to bolt, to fly
as if deer had wings
as alert, though I do not fear
love’s visitation
want to take it in
want it to enter
my five senses
my sixth sense
assail me, pervade me
overwhelm me
unless you did, I'd die
unless you dyed me in
and dyed me with
your aura, your essence
want to be dyed like cloth
like material soaking
in your substance
unable to end the poem
without expressing
what is in the bottom of the glass
with my straw sticking from it
suck until noise alone
is left in the glass
I had a bit of you in
want a bit to bite
along with milk shake
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written between 2:55 p.m.,
Wednesday, March 3rd
and 2:31 a.m., Saturday,
March 6th 2010
Peas Porridge Cold
for D.B.A.
knees for prayers
need for prayers
were she as near, as available
and I could have, could do
what ever I wanted
I’d want to worship her
with kiss, with kisses
letting them fall first
upon two knees
slowly up thighs I’d climb
and when I could
no longer linger,
hold back tears
I’d let them fall
along with two lips
where already she’d be
as wet as leaves
of trees in rain
knees for prayers
need for prayers
even sitting,
she and I standing
in the need of prayer
knees for prayer
long periods to pray
in Christ the King
to Christ the King
what knees now to worship
what need now to worship
art to worship
aught to worship
knees to bend,
to kneel, to pray
wherever you are
on any floor
on any day
ii.
poem in my notebook
two days old
I have to type and polish
post, link you to it
not about where you gat me
how you gat me
right this instant
right right now
want to give this word
here words, now words
hot words
right out of the oven of love
want you to know
the exact nature of this affair
our affair, of this affliction
two days and word from you
and I entirely alert
ears like deer’s ears
sensing danger
a breeze, a scent
of lion or other predator
deer ready to bolt, to fly
as if deer had wings
as alert, though I do not fear
love’s visitation
want to take it in
want it to enter
my five senses
my sixth sense
assail me, pervade me
overwhelm me
unless you did, I'd die
unless you dyed me in
and dyed me with
your aura, your essence
want to be dyed like cloth
like material soaking
in your substance
unable to end the poem
without expressing
what is in the bottom of the glass
with my straw sticking from it
suck until noise alone
is left in the glass
I had a bit of you in
want a bit to bite
along with milk shake
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written between 2:55 p.m.,
Wednesday, March 3rd
and 2:31 a.m., Saturday,
March 6th 2010
posted by Obie Quiet at 4:07 AM
3 Comments:
I followed through this entire poem every letter, word and line. Movement again. You move me.
How I dearly love and truly love, D.A., when I have touched you an you, in turn, touch me, by reading and with response. This might be incorrect though in terms of the cycle of touching responses. This might be because what I write of you is always written from your first touching me and then, possibly, even without intending to. You just do. It happens naturally. What is at this point significant though, is that the circle or circuit of our connection is sustained, unbroken.
My responses also inspire poetic gifts. Thank you.
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