I sense in every song
the melody of your thighs
when silence falls at last
upon our busy day I see you
asleep in all your sweetness
oh dearest one you are
the peaceful stillness
after each heartbeat of mine
the music that grants me
this dear life
* * *
© Gregory V Driscoll 2014
hand touching the moon’s breast
thighs bestriding sierra’s legs
lips kissing eyes made from stars
all become one you world and I
* * *
© Gregory V Driscoll 2014
when I see you my heart says there exists
beauty of body beauty of spirit
I see you and I want to kiss your eyes
your lips your supple hands fingers
your breasts and belly your hips
that little fleshly strait whose taste
evokes thoughts of strawberries in the wild
your thighs the back of your knees
your ankles your toes all of you
yes yes all of you again and again
when I see you there speaks inside my head
the serpent’s voice this is the fruit
of goodness and of pain take it
taste of it of its confusion its joy
between hell and heaven there is no difference
I’m ready now more than ever
for the abyss for paradise
for I know only we can make it so
* * *
© Gregory V Driscoll 2014
In my eyes you can glimpse my heart
adrift on the fiery sea of your form,
the glint there: my sails waiting to be moved
by the peppery scent of you,
the teasing storm of your whether,
then, at last, the slick fury of your thighs…
Seize command! Take rudder in hand!
Guide this vagabond vessel to port!
* * *
(c) Gregory V Driscoll 2012
You caught me in flagrant delight
surveying the swell of your breasts,
the treasure of your thighs,
the swift bravura of your derrière…
Have eyes fingers? Thoughts, a tongue?
‘Off to the gallows with him!’ Yes, yes!
To tumble through that narrow door
into Kingdom Come!
* * *
(c) Gregory V Driscoll 2012
Can one be a dilettante of eyes,
of smiles, of rumps and thighs –
yet not perish from such fleshly joy
replete with innocence and guile?
Aha! you think. A dilettante:
an ersatz expert: a dabbler:
(and, you add) elemental fool: a fraud!
But I speak in the Romance style:
lover: one who bears delight.
There are no objects, only subjects.
Oh damn all the double meanings!
And so I perish gladly, madly,
in a fit of straitened circumstance
amidst the music of a sigh.
* * *
(c) Gregory V Driscoll 2012
Your thighs are the white frenzy,
the mute dancing of clouds;
your fiery breasts, the lightning’s flash;
your shouts from pleasure’s heights, love’s true thunder.
Howl and howl, rage, lovely storm, above me
with your sweet mouth dripping kisses.
In your gusty arms of carnal
enchantment, let me pass the night
as if in some dream that conjures
wind and rain, fire and passion flaring.
Batter me with your dear wanton body!
Make of me a ravaged wasteland,
wet, scoured red from the fury
of your bright beauty! Let me dream the dream
of the serpent in the raptor’s talons!
Oh, let us die each little death
but to rise once more to die again
lip to lip, arms and legs entwined.
* * *
© Gregory V Driscoll 2012
Posted in Poetry
Tagged arms, beauty, body, breasts, carnal enchantment, clouds, dancing, die, dream, fire, flash, frenzy, fury, heights, howl, kisses, legs, lightning, lip, little death, love, mouth, night, passion, pleasure, poem, poetry, rage, rain, raptor, serpent, shouts, storm, talons, thighs, thunder, wasteland, wind
Lovely One! I will seek out your true name
in the thicket that dismays your heart,
in the forests that darken your eyes,
in the loon that calls at sunset.
I will seek again your beauty
in the waters of heaven and earth,
in the sea and in the clouds, in the stars,
in the rivers, and in our blood.
Come! Come teach me your secret name,
with your lips and your stillness,
with your moan and your shout
in the mad dance of our bodies.
Come! Teach me once more about beauty,
with your hair that shimmers like the night,
with your eyes and with your smile,
with those wondrous, sturdy worlds
of your breasts and your hands;
with your belly like a level plain;
with your comely buttocks and your flexed thighs,
with your pressing knees and your calves,
with the soles of your feet, your heels, your toes.
Oh, the deeper beauty of your spirit!
Forever would I sing out your praises,
lovely one, and forever dwell in this splendor!
I will seal it in vowels and consonants,
in the trickle of ink on the page,
in the blood that knocks at the gates
of tomorrow, that shouts “Love! Love!”
Though this our now imperfect flesh perish,
our souls shall fly toward the abiding sun,
two cranes on wings of fire and rain…
* * *
(c) Gregory V Driscoll 2011
Posted in Poetry
Tagged beauty, belly, blood, bodies, breasts, buttocks, clouds, consonants, cranes, dance, earth, eyes, feet, fire, flesh, forests, gates, hair, hands, heaven, heels, ink, lips, loon, love, lovely one, moan, night, page, perish, plain, poem, poetry, praises, rain, rivers, sea, shout, smile, souls, spirit, splendor, stars, stillness, sun, sunset, thicket, thighs, toes, tomorrow, trickle, true name, vowels, waters, wings, worlds
The beauty of night have I seen
naked as desire, hot as my mouth
that speaks the name of night.
The wind cuts my flesh as do your bold kisses,
the stars savage my glum soul
as does the working of your thighs.
Oh dearest lovely one, for me
the words become you, dreaming in my dream!
* * *
(c) Gregory V Driscoll 2011
O'Driscoll's Take on the World 