Ever notice that most people never really like reading poetry? Perhaps there is a reason.
©2021 Michael Raven
these are the
thistle hours
pricking with
silence & shadow
that long drag
to witching hours
pulling on the
minute hand so
threatening a
night of forevers
& time burning
slow
fingers arthritic
hover, linger over
arrows in the dark
but decline to touch
passions &
temptations
held back while the
clock is finally
struck
©2021 Michael Raven
nightmares drift away unable to penetrate your shield guarding the gateway of my dreams
©2021 Michael Raven
tracing the lines of
the tattoo you have
yet to get inner forearm
following the curves
of muscle and vein
pulsing with each heartbeat
under your pale skin
sweat shining in
afterglow, you
surprise me with a
kiss
©2021 Michael Raven
an invitation
arrived today
leaving me
overflowing with
intrigue and
anticipation
for the autumnal
celebration
This is a spoken word version of a previously posted piece. Follow the link for the original poem.
This time, I played with background “music” for the recording, although it is more for mood-setting than to be listened to as music. This recording was made using Reason 10 and a few virtual instruments with some digital reverb mixed much lighter than the previous experiments — just enough to get rid of the dead-room feel.
©2021 Michael Raven
shuttle and shadows the tangle woven blind in the mountains dusk with six hand tapestries cluck clucks and tut tuts snip sunder and skein why the cliff walls at every turn? struggle asking them is like asking the wind bellows and the lungs of spirits with eternal tasks
©2021 Michael Raven
i grew drunk on whispers furtive breaths and desperate songs when you left that voyeurs' door open knowing i would come for your embrace alone
©2021 Michael Raven
how does one touch
from a distance,
feel the warmth of
a lover's hand from
across half a sea
of humanity?
if you turn your head
just right at night
the wind carries vanilla
marked with cinnamon
from where they slumber
and dream
can you see?
can
you
see?
lovers gasps at solstice
the air warned by the
heat of their hearts'
synchronicity
©2021 Michael Raven
falling into this -- this tumble gliding on wings snared by cinnamon-sun hair caught in a dancing sunlight cascade framing those oft-bit lips draping autumn-stained garlands around naked ivory kissed guided hands leading to secret gardens through those locked wrought gates to share a single fragile orchid blooming within
©2021 Michael Raven
shimmying into dream
and slipping betwixt
shadows and filigree
to bring warmth to
those chill autumn sheets
to slake the heat
burning within and
fading with the
morning mist
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