Create(d)

Create(d)

2-2-2011

What was that noise-
It revolved in a twirl,
Twas satisfying to the ear
Escaped like a wounded soul*

I was groaning.
There was only silence
And the slow thought flow
Of a lover with hand in tow

“Come, come!”
I was beckoned with a kiss
Spun around a bob, sauntered
Towards the door, melting as I did

Two daemons were holding converse
A “O, don’t leave me.” and a “I am-
My own man, don’t have to speak nowhere.”
Reminded as I was of lulling speech, ran (with it)

Til my words all but cascaded
They sounded of dreams long past, sonorous
“I love you.” Returned with a smile and nod-
“You know I really do.” Alright, then what?

Well, let me tell you of a story of a young man-
Stop. Rethink risk and dream stores,
Remember advantage of exploration
Regardless of what the historians say, it happens.

It sounds like a saxaphone outside my window,
Reverberating the echoes of words spent quickly
Almost spilling off tongues meant for kissing, at first
O, and what tales could we spin- but we weren’t lying

“There was another, there IS another”, I thought solo:
“Well, what if she found out- (I bet she has)” then what?
“I do think of her sometimes (shh, naught for naughty!)”
“I dunno, if I do see her, I’ll just act and ask normal.” [sounds good]

Oh, let your hair down my fair starstruck mistress
The way it sweeps my growth entices me well
Such that a boom in my heart, with your hand placed over
Recounts a worthwhile activity- we were one for moments

And each one screamed silently for more, oh for more
As if not one of us was ready to ask for additional this,
Additional that. But it drove us - I almost lost heart -
Only to remember, “Oh wow, what a beautiful specimen!”
-
And then I kept going.

James P. McCabe

*”wounded soul” rather than “wounded prisoner”