Some time back, Lorraine posted some photos at the AB Web Mall that just seem to cry out to have odes composed in their honor....well, some of us came through and this page was created especially to accommodate the results.....:)
Photo courtesy of The Roxanne Lowitt Gallery
(Is he adorable or isn't he? whew!)
Black and White is the AB of Dreams
by Lorraine
Out of the haunting night,
A shadow forms, all twilight shades.
He spreads his arms, time suspends,
Pressing into dreams with his sweet odor,
Saturating evening space,
Occupying minds with thoughts of his love,
He whispers, my treasure, this is our secret.
Weaving a soft space within his moonbeam,
He glows denser into desired flesh.
Surrounding, flashing, pleasure reigns.
Massaging limps, suckling flesh,
He is a circle and around we go.
The perfect combination of elements.
in raw wisps of mystification,
he flirts, an attentive, nocturnal lover,
His head lies on your pillow,
Till light unlocks the viel of this sweet interlude
and with a smile, he tiptoes away,
Leaving the sheets,
and those left within them,
glistening as the morning dew.
Black and White in Color
by Armariel
He makes color where no color is....
the light of his being is too generous
to fail to refract, when the spectrum is remiss
his bones are too lovely, covered though they may be
the stars compensate by lending their beams
trapped in his eyes, they dance in sweet mockery
and sing although we hear no notes
I see brown although brown is black
just as I hear music after the music has ceased
I see gold, although gold is grey
glancing off his skin and eyes;
I see crimson and blue which are not part of him
but are his true relations
I see silver and green, surrounding him
and fire even as it rains.
He is near, though far
bright, though dark,
singing while silent;
Just as a child starved of fairy tales
makes stories of its own
His beauty does not lie;
it creates its own colors
when other colors desert him
and reinvents the rainbow.
Antonio Banderas AKA "The Ideal Human Profile"
by Lorraine
The strength and resilience are all there in his silhouette.
The dimensions of his face, the pulsating temple,
the erect chin and firm brow,
his wistful smile,
From this vantage point he projects immense pride,
A leonine presence.
His assured ease is fluidly romantic,
His classical contours, neither young nor old,
Sculptured in refined grace.
He presents a view that conjures immediate interest,
Taken sideways, one can not see the humour,
the twinkle in his eyes,
Instead one glimpses the intellect,
notices the serene expression of his determination,
Trace the outline of his cheek, linger,
Recognize the spark he ignites,
Feel the pangs of desire which now inhabit you,
Welcome to this exquisite, endless anguish,
You have witnessed the picturesque, leeward side of Beauty!
To a Perfect Profile
by Armariel
if I were a raindrop
I would fall first upon that thatch of curls
and linger, wishing to roll about
like a lamb in soft grass and clover
then finally taking my leave, I make my drop
down the gentlest of slopes
wishing to take my time,
I roll past lashes that flutter
until I am fanned almost to dryness
past starry orbs that smile me on my descent
as though they were my cousins in conspiracy
then I slide ever downward
then inward, to rest for long, delirious moments
on softest lips, spreading myself so thin
to kiss them with my whole being
how can I ever leave them!
but finally, as one rising from a velvet bed
to greet the shivering morning
I cascade over the strongly rounded chin
to caress that throat
seeking the hollow to pool myself to rest once more
and I have left so much of myself behind
that there is now almost nothing of me left
soon I will be only a memory
I will have left only silver tracery
content to know
that I could not possibly be more beautiful
than I am now.
Brown Study
by Armariel
to drown in those eyes
is to be like a fly
trapped in amber
hot chocolate
and bronze flame
night wedded to goldness
mahogany sunrise
autumnal mystery
russet revelry
and chestnut surprise
tangled in hair
of velvet ropes
cinnamon perfection
that leaves one question
burning on my lips:
can the blood of angels
be brown?
Click on photo to see it full sized
Vines
by Armariel
What is this that peers
through a tangle of celestial vines
angel or prince,
magician or elf?
those eyes that imprison the night
with silken web of lashes
each star a willing captive
aware of its privilege
to be thus caged
Would that I were one of them!
Rain Man
by Armariel
I am the rain
that pursues him from aloft
my gentle bullets
too anxious to cover my mark
my burning liquifaction
will find form and fashion
spinning itself into preciptious skeins
which race and revel
in nets of crystal
his secrets I will discern
and moisten with my dance
no inch of him will I leave unsampled
I taste him, cleanse him,
celebrate him, advertise him,
frantic, gloating,
teasing, glorified,
I am jewelry
that can never be appraised
ephemeral
and close.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Star
by Lorraine
It is difficult to describe the nature of this individual star,
The celestial spaces, that wonderous glow,
Viewing the ambience of his galactic circle,
none but himself could be his parallel.
His atoms jump to a higher energy level,
like a prism,
White light composed of many colours,
He bends and changes,
Violet to blue, green to yellow, orange to red,
He becomes the fireball.
Not a minor star but a sun.
Will we ever learn the truth about the energy
that keeps him burning so strong?
Glowing electromagnetic radiation
travelling through space,
Observe the stellar luminosity,
An atomic reactor in his own right,
We strain and tilt here below this sun,
Scanning, registering what we observe in his heavens,
Blinded by this 1st magnitude of brightness,
We are like pieces of metal stuck to a huge magnet,
Suspended in an infinite void.
He is the dark expanding energy,
increasing, stretching, swelling the cosmos.
We incline towards this luster,
Dancing in his winking beams,
Under the canopy of his ascendant success,
We know that he will never be eclipsed.
He drifts across our horizons like a summer cloud,
A beckoning haze of charisma,
A tantalizing stimulus,
Verging across the routes of our dreams,
transplanting his dynamic, orgiastically, fascinating presence there.
His idyllic form prowelling in our brains.
An omnipotent male pheromone wafting pleasure-house.
His halo of sable hair catching and lifting in the breeze,
His cheeky, artful tricks making our hearts leap.
His eyes, so full of life, fondly enticing us.
The threat of dangerous emotions,
lurking just below the surface,
He is a shrine to sexual desire,
His topsy-turvey world of guns and death,
A reminder of the fraility of life,
and the attraction of playing
with a bad, bad boy.
by Lorraine
(pssssst--MORE by Lorraine here!)
Here's my own take on this photo...I kinda hesitated to post it here (as you'll see why when you read it, lol) but then decided, ahhhh, what the hey...;)
This pistol packin' poppa
just makes me flip my topper
I would not tell a whopper
he makes me feel improper
just like a teeny bopper
I'd like to pull his stopper
until he called a copper
or even an army chopper
my heart's a flipper flopper
a total bunny hopper!
*squeal*
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
These haiku were written by me, RoZita, the first one inspired by this picture....
This man in the wind
wears beauty like a necklace
negligent and fresh.
~*~*~*~
His "te quiero" eyes
waste the night with mystery
innocence and smoke.
(That wonderful, perfect phrase "te quiero eyes" was originated by Delorita...so that poem is really by us both:))
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Do these photos inspire you too? Send me your poems!
~*~*~*~
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