oh, southern summer breeze,
my sensual companion.
5. Hugh Bygott , 2009-Jun-05:
Walking in the wild-woods
in the failing winter light,
I remember this path . . .
Here I embraced her, enchanted,
yet the shadow of death so soon.
6. Zhanna P. Rader, 2009-Jun-06:
A heavy snowfall
makes us stop at a hilltop
Appalachian lodge.
In tender embrace, we watch
a crackling fireplace show.
7. Hugh Bygott, 2009-Jun-08:
River-valley winds,
at the windows, sigh and strain
with relentless ease . . .
but I am dreaming of the woman
I did not meet but would have loved.
8. Zhanna P. Rader, 2009-Jun-08:
Our embrace
when we meet weeks later —
how much more passionate
than the one we enjoyed
parting at the train station!
9. Hugh Bygott, 2009-Jun-08:
Now I walk alone
toward the river-valley,
her sweet presence gone,
yet my heart cries out for her
who lies silent beneath the moss,
10. Zhanna P. Rader, 2009-Jun-08:
You're just my friend, right?
We watch the spring blossoms
together... Sadly
you aren't aware of your
disarming, electric touch.
The Psyche Love Poetry Series: Series 2, Tanka 11 - 20
11. Cecelia Quentin -Webb, 2009-Jun-09:
A vase at dusk -
the satined rose, unbound, revealing
those deep piercing thorns:
yet his deeper love
protects me from that pain.
12. Robert D Wilson, 2009-Jun-22:
those lips
in the quiet between
your legs . . .
leaves gliding through
the moon's shadow
13. M. L. Harvey, 2009-Jun-09:
barren trees
stand knee deep in their own leaves
when you
have seen enough of me
will the wind be my friend?
[Atlas Poetica number 3, Spring 2009]
14. Zhanna P. Rader, 2009-Jun-09:
We meet again,
under the Sakura's deep shade,
alone at last.
The gentle wind cools my skin,
yet your touch, the warmth of desire.
15. Hugh Bygott, 2009-Jun-11:
Oh, the urgency
as my pale lips touch her red . . .
yet there is a doubt . . .
just ashes to ashes,
only eternal silence?
16. Michele L. Harvey, 2009-Jun-12:
that cricket
singing alone on the porch
his voice
perhaps sweeter than mine
will turn your path towards home
17. Zhanna P. Rader, 2009-Jun-12:
What makes us
glance at each other each time
we pass by chance?
You never smile or speak
and yet you slip into my dreams.
18. Cecelia Quentin-Webb, 2009-Jun-13:
My hair unpinned,
I open my unclasp’d robe
placing his hand on my breast . . .
A close nightingale calls
but we are far away.
19. Zhanna P. Rader, 2009-Jun-13
As I lie in grass,
away from anyone's sight,
a damselfly lands
on the cool of my breast...
Oh, the pleasure and the torture!
20. Cecelia Quentin-Webb, 2009-Jun-14
Fragrant hair loosen'd,
I open my kimono . . .
the summer moonlight
faintly reveals my breasts
yet his lips more truly know.
