Though a good deal is too strange to be believed, nothing is too strange to have happened. Thomas Hardy

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MY APHRODISIAC IS A POET

Tess Driver

Climb inside, comfort me
with lush imaginings as I
walk the tightrope of your lines.

I caress the lips of your knowing.
Read to me poet, soothe my imaginings,
massage my longing with thoughts
that cling to every pore.

I shiver at your rhyme;
it is dark outside, poet,
fill me with light and laughter
so the moon grows full and stars
caress the nippled dawn.

Poet, lust after me
with your singing verse:
wash the sharp word edges,
drown me in the flesh of your verse.

http://www.australianpoetry.org/2013/03/26/south-australia/

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“Love is a possible strength in an actual weakness.”
― Thomas Hardy, Far from the Madding Crowd

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TESS DRIVER

Party Dress

Fragile as the truth
it hangs on a crocheted hook
covered in white blossom,
a gossamer memory.

All that time,
season to season
green embroidered petals
now pale and frayed,
danced on cream silk,
styled with tucks for secrets.

So slim, two large hands
could fit around the waist.
Kisses flutter moth-like
from the neck-line
once softly curved
over quivering breasts.

A million silken threads
to create a dream.
Touch it gently
or it will unravel
in your hands.

From Blue: Friendly Street No. 27

http://friendlystreetpoets.org.au/?page_id=301

 

 

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