The tempo of a thousand kisses

A thousand kisses said the song and it sounded black to me, absent of color, an emptiness containing love or passion. Absence where movement remains, somehow floating on that emptiness with a sound that makes it belong.

What movement? -you ask. The movement of closeness between two persons, lips sensually connecting with each other, kisses in ephemeral smoke … white … or red. Red with gray swirling into darkness at a larghissimo tempo, almost hypnotizing our senses.

Dark sounds evoking lovers.

A Sensual autumn midnight

lightless and timeless.

_____Adriana Citlali
VI-XII-MMXX

Today’s theme is synesthesia. I wrote a haibun poem. The inspiration came from the fact that I started writing when my stereo played “A thousand kisses deep” by Leonard Cohen. Read other poets take on the theme at dVerse — Synesthesia.

Nefelibata

What does time mean
                        between   a night   and   a cloud?

Where does space go in the middle of a kiss?
Where is absence when passion ends?

I walk in foggy autumn                   
         cannot                     remember the place
                            I can’t                
                           Though, there’s that perfume
                          scented by golden leaves about to 
f
a
l
l
           like bright yellow rain-sparkles in the dark

I walk on scented fog through autumn and absence 

a golden kiss and a cloud 
                                                               Where?

_____Adriana Citlali
XII-XI-MMXX

Open Link Night | dVerse.



Autumn stupor

Drowsed by golden leaves,
Amelia  rests  at  her  balcony.

Her thoughts blink purple and red,
under a Monetian sunset.

Amelia wonders about the passion contained in clouds.
A secret desire? A lover’s touch?

Scarlet elixir indulges her lips.
Eyelids closed. He whispers. She observes.




_____Adriana Citlali
XI-X-MMXVI

Quadrille #18 | dVerse



There comes winter

©Adriana Citlali Ramírez 2014

I follow the smoke unaware
Its swirling path mirrors the mist of my thoughts
… or not —I whisper when I catch my wanders

Autumn is almost death
There comes winter and the heavy blackness
… or not —I hope for snow and solar storms
            frosted clouds
     iridescent skies
   chaotic dreams
       french passion
           ephemeral contrast
 flames  red  fire
 skis and snow




_____Adriana Citlali
I-XII-MMXIV


OpenLinkNight – November 2014 | dVerse Poets Pub.