Monday, October 25, 2010

Viola

cornered within a silent solitude
thin panels of the past reverberate
sending chills along spines and necks
her hair stands up on end
loose and frayed
tangled as waves

scuffed dusted leather on crooked hinges
popped open I see her curves on mauve felt
abused, woodgrain raw
rough, dry, cracked
sorrowful years

I touch her neck, slow and firm
tuning her tension, loosing hurts
fine oils penetrating hardened skin
soaking in love and warmth
a shining glow of light
melting away like time

I hold her close, heart and chin
fingers dancing over her length
the steadiness of a seasoned hand
her voice echoes in the chamber
a song unheard before
ringing clear again

the musician loses himself in her
she and him entwined like notes
splattered on a sheet of white
dark perfection
dashing crescendos
crashing they rest, holding

once tossed aside as worthless waste
his wise eyes behold value true
a finely crafted shell of souls
he keeps her close and tuned
a perfect viola recaptured
in a beautiful renown
souls united in sound

– Jason Kichline

Friday, October 22, 2010

Morning's Gone

lids shut from silent still
creak open, cracked undimming
freeing deep pools to see at will
morning dawns

awakened again the heartache kills
the memory of loss, unforgetting
pooling pangs, frozen chills
morning yawns

light rushes in to have it's fill
the truth of you, bare, undressing
rewinding blurs, replaying thrill
moanings drawn

scent ascends as senses spill
nude skin on skin in bed confessing
love unleashed on you until
morning's gone

– Jason Kichline