Cantazhia
21st Century
Adrift,
Softly her bare feet tap the
Grain of hardwood.
She deeply inhales a moment of fresh air.
Fresh air cleanses the soul,
Rejuvenating her youth if only
Momentarily.
Her thoughts, they are of a past
Lover.
A lover that had once taken her
Into a journey of sexual pleasure.
Flesh upon flesh, bare, naked and
As beautiful as an unoccupied seashore
in the early morn hours.
Curvage, only arms, Cantazhia's arms,
Could round off to.
Her lover's flesh, a tone alike the
Many statues of great men, liquid
Meaningful brozne into solid firmness.
Yet, the lovers softness is alike cashmere.
She the once lover, a caryatid.
Her hands strong, yet caressing, gentle,
Harmless.
Cantazhia laughs, oh how the dreams,
The visions make her desire to peak.
It is alike a volcano ready to errupt.
Ozzing along the side of a hot bluster.
She laughs alike the breeze blowing
Past the silk sheer curtains.
A planter hoeing a row in the dirt
Defines her smile, to produce alike seed
Thrown in a ditch, infectous of kind growing.
A touch, a moist, damp touch of excitement.
An arrousement by foreplay.
Untimely the metal black clock is broken.
Unlimited, unhoured sensual, breathdrawn
Hours.
Flickering light, the kind of candles
That do not take heed to blown out of the
Mouth breath, they do melt close, snug to
Glass as do two bodies tasting together.
Their mouths occupied with the magic of
A kiss.
A kiss into more sweetness, more temptation.
An inticement of much more to come.
Alike a wine aging, this love was in aging.
Cantazhia bares her breast, her nipples
are pointing to the direction of the
mirror hanging crooked on the bedpost.
She caresses them sofly, alike her lover
Once had done.
She defines them in words, speaking to
herself, those once love words she now
misses so desperately.
Yet, she laughs, she laughs knowing
She was once loved and desired by the most
Handsome love ever created.
She sees no failure, no benighted sadness.
She feels to be loved only once in
this life time, a true love, innocent love,
Is all that is needed.
Cantazhia, she lives in me.
She gives me solitude in discovery of
My own personal desires.
Does she live in you?
Can her once pleasure arouse your desires,
Heighten your relationship with your own
Creativeness?
Cantazhia lives in me, can she live in you?
Can we find and desire a woman so great?
Can we be human enough to master our own
thoughts of sexual fulfillment when a lover
Is not around to do it for us?
Alike Cantazhia, I want to be human.
To desire, love and taste life's given
Pleasure of masterbastion.
Yet it is not as the feel of another womans
Flesh pressed closely to my body, however,
It is a thought of passion for another woman
That gives me satisfaction alike Cantazhia's
satisfaction momentarily.
Age bare no burdens when it comes to sexual
Desire.
Youthful we still are, and we play as children,
Innocently.
Copyright 2003 Bevery Bishop. All rights reserved.
DayPoems Poem No. 2293
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/2293.html">Cantazhia by Beverly Bishop</a>
The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor
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