Poetry

I cannot say 

which is which:

the glowing

plum blossom is

the spring night’s moon.

~Izumi Shikibu
(974-1034)

Izumi Shikibu was a poet of the Heian court of Japan. Her diary chronicles her life and many lovers, including two princes. She was a rival of Lady Murasaki.

 

Of that Spring night he
promises
how it fills me with the fragrance
of longing.

I dream of blossoms falling
like rain: pink explosions
of his kisses upon
my pale skin.

~ Butterfly

Spring is a symbol for many moments in my life. The sense of longing; waiting for spring, longing for a lover, experiencing the cycle of seasons, and the return of spring to my heart. Awakening into the spring, once again, coming out of winter, as a woman into an erotic “second Spring” of sexuality. Everything sparkles with sensual aliveness! Orgasms are deeper, fuller, richer. Passion is heightened, lust for living in the present, being present, tasting the sweetness of life in the beautiful moment, like a flower, opening.

 

You wake me,

Part my thighs, and kiss me.

I give you the dew

Of the first morning of the world.

~ Marichiko

 

Spring is early this year.

Laurels, plums, peaches,

Almonds, mimosa,

All bloom at once. Under the

Moon, night smells like your body.

~ Marichiko

 

You approaching me

With the smell

Of fresh cut

Morning grass:

My nipples turn hard.

~ Yuko Kawano

 

 

More than the color
It is the fragrance I find
A source of delight.

Who’s sleeve might have brushed
against the plum tree
beside my house?
~ Anonymous
{Japanese tanka poem}

Making love with you
Is like drinking sea water.
The more I drink
The thirstier I become,
Until nothing can slake my thirst
But to drink the entire sea.
~Marichiko

Black hair
Tangled in a thousand strands
tangled my hair and
tangled my memories
of our long nights
of lovemaking.
~Yosano Akiko

Summer Poems

 

(new poems written in the heat of love and summertime)

 

voluptuous night

ripe with our sweat and pleasure

summer has begun

 

his skin like honey

dewdrops, tears, nectar, semen

delicious pleasure

 

Legs trembling,

he asks

why desire is like

the summer heat.

The moon tonight

is the color of wine,

making me drunk

with his question.

 

this night, lovemaking

street lights blossom with desire

July fireworks

what else can we do

but ignite like stars

into the heavens?

~ Butterfly