THE HAND LINGERS ON THE SOUL
sex one
of the most interesting words in the English language
gets
everyone’s attention
even
after all these years
subtle the
word always gives me trouble
i
almost don’t notice
maybe
I would notice it if
it was subtle sex
toasty sex gets
my attention
hot nutty crunchy
the hand lingers on the soul
but
where is it
the
hand the
soul
there are hints
but
no road signs
no
maps
no
one knows for sure
she yields to him
he
tends toward her
a subtle mix of emotions
there is nothing new under the sun
yet
sex can be fresh
an
acquired palate
the taste of her lingering
snow
covers the ground
second
snow this season
mounded
like breasts
the morning still dark
in the silence
in the silence
her
mournful cry carried on the wind
_____________________________
_____________________________
A STYLISH WINTER WHITE
today all is
frozen
the landscape transformed
it is the desert after all
earth and sky the same a
stylish winter white
the birds have
come to the feeder
i wonder what they must think
what has happened to the world they knew
when it snows the world is covered
as well as the sound
all is quiet
no place to swim
all is frozen
all is quiet
snow creates
a stylish winter
white
November 16, 2014
13 comments:
anything might be new again. i ran in snow yesterday, annell, and i felt as though i hadn't been convinced i'd see it again. how new it rang for me, how painfully new.
our body is our opportunity for newness, as the earth's opportunity resides in her body.
but in our approach to sex in our society we try, as we do with all things (especially the earth), to make it a commodity, either to sell or to wield with power. so yes, sex, the way we use it, grows old, loses its power of resurrection through media, and then as a consequence, in common place.
your poem though - i love the repetition of the title throughout. it cleans me as i read. you create a clean space, reveal the snowy landscape, in which two lovers might come together and engage in, ironically, sex - yes, but that which is not sex, but which is sacred in the body.
xo
erin
This is a simply delightful exploration of sex, Annell! Did you have fun writing it? It certainly appears so! Thank you for gracing my Sunday with knowing smiles.
Such a clever use of the words, Annel. Bravo
The snow has really drifted magic into your words...laid them out beautifully like a soulful body carefully wrapped up safe and warm..part of the world inside and out
The snow in the desert is such a special experience.. we spent a winter there many years ago, and I remember how it was with the whiteness in the desert.. thank your for the reminder.
Beautifully done, Annell, in the first poem I especially love - and feel - the two closing lines. In the second, I love the idea of the birds wondering what happened to the world they knew.
Hmmm!
ZQ
Indeed sex is as old as the earth, yet always new. There are, as you said, no road signs and no maps....each finds the way somehow & it is always fresh.. always. Thanks for taking part in Poetry Pantry.
http://inthecornerofmyeye.blogspot.com/2014/11/painting-winter.html
i wonder how you draw the shapes,
very tangled thoughts but deep insights.
What Erin has written in response to your poem resonates with me....for they are the reasons your poem touched me as well, particularly her last stanza. I think that sex can become new again when the hand lingers on the soul....when it becomes a sacred union of two souls lingering in a soulful space with each other and experiencing a bodily expression of that space....hence, why I love your title so much and the ideas of fresh snow and newness throughout. Gorgeous writing and such a poignant consideration of a topic that is all too easily bypassed as 'nothing new under the sun' and therefore often loses its wonder! You have recaptured the wonder here :-)
Each piece holds its own strength...the first for its directness and the second for its description...
Elizabeth
insightful lines..
Unique, Annell. I love the way you took this apart.p, like an analysis.
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