Possession


The bed is low and risen, I am in.
Her blood is smelling sweeter as I spin
deep into her shell, as I hush her soul
she does give me substance -- her control,
and taking hold of hands I make her mine.
We fall into the covers, intertwine
with crucifix and burns to pale wear.
They call to her, a blur, but she is where--
Beneath our bones? Hear the feeble prayers,
"Depart at once!," his holy sweat declares.
She sighs and rises up to meet my eyes,
a view, behold, I'm caught in her disguise!

Lost in fetish, stilled, her flesh is my sheath
and love is calming demons underneath.



Poetry by ardent.March
Read 562 times
Written on 2007-03-20 at 10:09

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aliceramone
yes...I can see that one needs to look deep into to this one to get it's meaning...i thought this excellent...i can relate ...fetishes...maybe some catholic guilt...your poem challenges imagination and that is a good thing-excellent
2007-03-31


katiiieanne
I like it. Kinda describes the disturbing feeling one may have when "making love". Very symbolic. I can read this poem in a couple different ways. I like it. a lot. =D
2007-03-21


Individuality
an interesting poem here, certainly makes one think. a spirit taking possession while someone is making love or dominatrix or perhaps some of both of that lol, had me thinking between the lines and i think more with the spirit here, a ghost's return to flesh.
2007-03-20