(Written in 1986)
I will start by publishing some of my old poetry; and then in a week or so, I'll be up to par with the present :-)
of brilliant morning light
I see of you a picture
so sensuous strong and bright
it's your hair that dictates my gaze
with ease in windsweeping flight
a journey so truly amazing
it's a witness to creation's might
days are life and life is here
when escaping from the dreamborn night
you're grasping for my inner sphere
and undress me in the morning light
yes, we lived in that pulse of heat
closing our eyes with a smile
shivering expecting your lowering seat
and our rising bodies' shaking tie
now some horizons of distance apart
I've often escaped with that sight
the image of a beautiful morning start
that took darkness away from the night
Poetry by Mikael Lövkvist
Read 670 times
Written on 2007-03-17 at 22:04
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
I will start by publishing some of my old poetry; and then in a week or so, I'll be up to par with the present :-)
During an instant's capture
During an instant's captureof brilliant morning light
I see of you a picture
so sensuous strong and bright
it's your hair that dictates my gaze
with ease in windsweeping flight
a journey so truly amazing
it's a witness to creation's might
days are life and life is here
when escaping from the dreamborn night
you're grasping for my inner sphere
and undress me in the morning light
yes, we lived in that pulse of heat
closing our eyes with a smile
shivering expecting your lowering seat
and our rising bodies' shaking tie
now some horizons of distance apart
I've often escaped with that sight
the image of a beautiful morning start
that took darkness away from the night
Poetry by Mikael Lövkvist
Read 670 times
Written on 2007-03-17 at 22:04
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Zoya Zaidi |
Cleopatra |
Texts |
by Mikael Lövkvist Latest textsThe eye with no faceCry bird cry The question My hands The inner sun |
Increase font
Decrease