Tender Dialects

Eyes meet and a sun ray to lips hops

Hearts beat; everything goes fast and never stops

Chill takes me by arm

And I lose myself to your charm

Racing words disappear,

For Lips getting a better career

Once they start their play,

How much you miss, there’s no need to say.

Pour your lips over my body to speak dialects they master

Anchor your ships; my beat can’t run any faster

“Suspire” Painting by Tomasz Rut

Caress me like morning breeze

Take me in your arms and squeeze

Make me thirsty; drink my core

Leave me beg for more and more

Dive so deep

Plant and reap

Lie me down; raise me up

Tear my gown; sip and cup

Grab me like a shawl

I’m a princess down your ball

Invite me under stars to dance

To steal your perfume, I’ll steal every chance
 
In my bosom come and have a seat

Lips would never translate a heart beat…

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77 thoughts on “Tender Dialects

  1. Tender dialects are passionate today, the longing ends with kissing beloved. You surprised me with this. Her feelings you pour, slowly, bracing her moment to flow in arms of his beloved. Fervid strings and the touch, craving, love of years. Beautifully done, Mira. 🙂

    Transparency in divine-rhythm.

  2. Mira, this is so intoxicating. There is a luxurious flow to the words – a breath of eroticism blended with a touch of longing for more – a missing before the moment is passed. Love at the core of both for surely, we don’t miss what we don’t love. Beautiful! ~ Love, Bobbie

  3. how can you translate a heart beat – it speaks of love and only love…and if as a human race we could decipher love, we would have been a lil less imperfect !

    Gr8 piece !

    • Thanks for the morning freshness you brought along…well that’s eaxatly why I’ve asked for a shower of no words..
      &you’re totally right; human’s imperfection lies in wrong-analyzing of both Love & Light..
      Peaceful day ahead

  4. I enjoy reading your poems in my email, seeing in my mind what you’ve painted, then clicking on the link and seeing the actual painting you’ve chosen. Do you know that you craft your words so well that following your emotional path always leads to the artwork you’ve presented? Confession: often I stumble when trying to understand poetry because it can get so abstract, but yours is so full with emotion that I understand. Rather than show me a picture, you practically hand me the paint brush so I can join in on the creation. Love it!

  5. I agree with all the comments, that this is a great poem, as well as sensual. I enjoy Vincent Van Gogh painting, but I do not know a lot of his history. So also with the Tender Dialects, I want to know the state of the writer, why poetry is written, where, how, how the mood, etc. You know that, I try to see the woman behind the weapon. Does he tremble and feel confident when writing the Tender Dialects? Keep post, i like to see the background. May I? 🙂 🙂

    • Thanks for the comaprison you’ve drawn between my humble poetry & the Great painter..
      & Art has many sides, it can never be seen through two eyes, the same & since I’ve started blogging, I’ve never replied the quest you posted except with this: taste my ecstasy to realize who am I…
      Peace & Light

  6. Ms Mira Jay, to make realize who am I, there must be who are you / others besides you .. Are you agree, we need other to taste our ecstacy and we need other too, to realize ‘who am I?’

    Ahaha… once again, you are smart and very talented, not only in the field of poetry, but also life. You are well educated. 😉

  7. True art..I could frame your words and hang them on the wall, or just happily paint them direct to the wall! but it feels just right to dip into them here on your blog, or hopefully your book. I can return here many times, and your poetry will always feel fresh and new but reassuringly familiar. For the fire you carefully blew back alive here, ember by ember, word by word, I thank you. If you walked down the same street as I one day, I would slip my hat off a sec and bow a touch; You reach people profoundly with your words.

"Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought & the thought has found its words"; I know mine's make no sun shines, but....YOU can tell better!

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