Musings by The Poet Loriet
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Poised
like a Grecian statue,
I'm struck stone cold.
You explode into my life
without knocking,
like a plate
of flaming Saganaki--
interesting, intriguing
and full of life,
passing out compliments
as if you were
handing out business cards.
Your torrid breath
causes the edge
of your words to curl
and smolder under
your sunburst,
my magnifying glass.
Drunk with desire,
my face flushes,
toes tingle--
my mind wanders
to Ionic columns which do not lie
in ruins, but remain resplendent
in their architecture.
It's hard to
bloom, planted
in this confining urn
when I want to
flower with you.
Lori Beal
like a Grecian statue,
I'm struck stone cold.
You explode into my life
without knocking,
like a plate
of flaming Saganaki--
interesting, intriguing
and full of life,
passing out compliments
as if you were
handing out business cards.
Your torrid breath
causes the edge
of your words to curl
and smolder under
your sunburst,
my magnifying glass.
Drunk with desire,
my face flushes,
toes tingle--
my mind wanders
to Ionic columns which do not lie
in ruins, but remain resplendent
in their architecture.
It's hard to
bloom, planted
in this confining urn
when I want to
flower with you.
Lori Beal
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