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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter  12/22/2014 2:32:46 PM
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  Best Poems From
  MARK R SLAUGHTER (1957)
 
 
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  197.     

Are We in Disbelief?

Under reassuring gaze
These fingers find a route -
Slide thro' gaps of blouse
To warmer lands

You push back
Unzip us
Ease the flow of blood

Warmth of lips
Stirs a pause

We negotiate thro' common tongue

Let clothes fall
Skin drift
In tenuous hands
…

I catch your smile
As calm relents
To overwhelming beauty
Roar of passion-brown eyes

We try to settle
Explore
Seek the lower ground
Of higher gain

And there
Lips locate
Take up the swell
In heavy mouths
Draw in the flesh

All else pales

Hormonal drenching
Brings out flavours once a dream

Taste drives us on to
Reposition

Locked eyes
Lock in the depth
Of coupling

Surge and flow begin
To mellow moans

Your pitch rises to the rhythm
Of your tongue inside my breath

We meld
Succumb to our intention
I give
And you receive

The violence of our generosity
Pushes
Pulls

We wane
In moistened eyes

Fade to peace

Disbelief

It's not enough
Not until I swallow all you are
Soul
Being

Existence


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2012
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  198.     

Autumn

Red has come –
It blew in unexpectedly
When I was vulnerable.
And it brought the cold –

Not of still and blue,
But the dying embers type,
As if to say 'Goodnight Summer.'



Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  199.     

Autumn Blush

O! heart and life are tied in bow
When Nature’s autumn colours flow
With blood;

We’re so at one; and here decreed,
The autumn blush is all I need!

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 

   
   
 

  200.     

Banishment

The empty head of Death is wailing –
Siren to a mind aflailing;
Unpropitious stare assailing,
Casting forth His disembowelling dream!

Am I the flouncing soul He seeks –?
The jetsam of our realm He wreaks –
The uncontested heir His freaks
Of Hell hath chosen – so, be I supreme:

The crop of all to blame for ailing
Spirits cross our earth; derailing
Man– so now, for me the nailing
Banishment to hear the Devil scream!

His haggard hands gesticulate
The closing presage; now the gate
Begins to creak; and I await
With pounding fear to greet His gleeful beam…


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
 
Mark R Slaughter
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Mark R Slaughter