The Love Songs of Judith Rose
Yellow Dogs and God
Nose pressed against pane
I feel your touch
and know
you stand behindArmrests you create
for my breasts
before the inevitable beginsA yellow dog crosses the street
sprawls down in the rain
Does he glance up in the darkness,
spy us here, by the candleglow?Bare breasted now
your hardness grows against
the part of me
that goes softest with your touch.Would he approve
of the curve of my rear
as I turn to
lift myself onto you
for one more heavenly ride?How sweet the kisses
So close between,
do I still breathe?Does Forever live
in our joining?
Is God where we stand
locked now as one?Passion finally spent
I turn in your arms
press nose once more
to pane.The rain has stopped,
the yellow dog, dried off and gone.
Yes...
Atop damp, wrinkled sheets,
yellow daisies carefully
stitched into their design
by someone's dead aunt,
you flip on Enya.
Your hardness matches the volume
as my arms pull you back
Our clock chimes the hour,
counts, by each stroke,
the number of times
we have touched, nibbled,
kissed, throughout
this long night.
But yes.....
I still want you.
Again
and then over again
Crumpled Sheets
Why is it when you touch me
all I see is you?
When did you become a party
to this unbidden wildness in me?A maelstream we make of our sheets
til there is no more left to doOur tidy four poster bed towers over us,
disapproves of the mess,
but we we leave rose-covered coverlet
bunched on the floor until morn.A blossomed reminiscence of our night together,
reminder of the night to yet come.
Our Trip
In my tee, at the dish-filled sink,
I feel you enter from behind.
Musical chairs you play with your hands,
first high, then below.
I fall back into you,
suds and dishes forgot..
Our dance begins slowly,
increases in speed,
until my back arches.
and we blast off at last.
Finally, we slump and
your flaccidness slips free.
Our rocket fuel leaks
to the waiting hardwood floor.
Mud Horses
You draw one mud horse
on my shoulders
after the rains.
By morning
herds cross
our bed.
Night
In the night of
my sadness,
you came to me,
hands cupping breasts,
lips touching lips.
An hour later,
I slept.
In Your Absence
When you are not here,
at times I rest my hand
places you have touched,
and it is as if you are
with me still.
Beaches
Your tossed shirt
brings the scent
of cool rain, salt air.
You move quietly,
thinking I sleep,
but my desirethis night is a tsunami
and so I tug down
your jeans, pull you
into remembrance
of depths we have visited
on other such nights,
nights when I'm
convinced Neptune,
himself, sits,
waterwings at the ready,
on our bedroom floor.
Other times we would
play first, splash
in the tides,
giggle, tickle,
but tonight...
tonight, my hands twine
seaweed through your hair
and we dive untill
dawn finally beaches
and, gasping for air,
we sleep.
Gods
I
my favorite part
is when you
enter me and
stop with all
of your mind
inside your
hardness, not
moving, and
all of my mind
inside my wetness,
enclosing, until
we dance that
dance with no
steps and no
movement just
bare against
bare until our
orgasms spread
into white light,
making us gods.
II
my other favorite
thing is when your
tongue strokes me
and I fall back, arms
above head, a lamb
at your sensual
slaughter, all of me
where your mouth is,
until the room
turns into red sparks
and the person I hear
screaming is me.
All poems copyrighted 2002-2004
Pris Campbell
Yellow Dogs and God is published in
Blackmail Press-November 2001 edition.
Beaches is in the March 2004 issue
of Erosha.
Awarded for 'In Your Absence' by Mike Subritzky.
Thank you, Mike.
(Please read his poetry on my Guest Poet Page)
Music: Whispers of my Heart by Bruce DeBoer
