A woman is such a magical creature
She is a mother, a warrior, a muse
She can be the altar where a man worships
She can be a cliff by the ocean, where men gather ready to dive into its cooling waters.
She is the harbor where spherical curly mists are washed away
Commanded by the enigmatic and powerful moon
She is the dessert, full of chaotic, rugged yet powerful mountains
A fortress for those who don’t know the way to her heart.
My heart and soul are under the spell of an enigmatic woman
She is a winter night with icy winds blowing towards the warm of a new aurora
She is the magical sword left standing on the battleground of an old worn-out sun
Telling tales of times full wonder and magic
Where the fates gathered to watch over humanity.
She is the soft voice of an old hymn reminding me of times long gone
Her incantations awaken my spirit and set my blood on fire
Her eyes see beyond the walls I have set
With one touch she can turn this meek man into a poet
Words flowing through me as water from a waterfall.
A woman is a perpetual paradox
A timeless road without direction nor destination
Where countless poets have happily died
Seeking but failing at their quest to be loved by such creatures
A woman can be a desert island where honey flows
Oh, how I wish I could taste my muse’s honey
I wish to have her burn and melt by my touch
Writing new quartets together after tasting each other’s pleasure
And to ecstasy we have succumbed!
I have fallen captive to her ways
Only she has the remedy for what ails my soul
This poet once was a lost sailor,
Drunk on anger and regret.
I now write verses that from within scratch my being
Daring to be let out, demanding to express unexplored parts of my soul
Seeking to be heard by the one who has enchanted me
Wanting her to sink deep to my desires
Irresistible woman like dawn you are to me
I wish to be bathed in your light
You are my muse and goddess of heaven
A dove delicate and sweet
A wild Arabian mare, untamable and pure
At night your memory haunts me
My dreams you command
It is there I can see your nakedness
And where I can make you mine.
With hunger I devour your breasts
My fingers exploring your every field
Hearing you moan as I recite verses of love
Promising to always be yours if you so desire
Forever faithful, ready to go wherever you may wish
Muse here is your loving poet
A simple man would use his smile as his verses
He would seek to command your body and tame your spirit
While I seek to simply be by your side
Writing verses inspired by your being
Undressing you with my songs.
A poet is but a pale suicidal bird brought to life by its muse
A poet is one who chose to fall from its delusional flight of normalcy
His soul has faced the abyss and succumbed in its hell
His mind has been elevated by the pulses of life
He can feel and taste life’s whirlwinds
The chaos, the power, the sweet and erotic waters of life
Where since the beginning of time, knights and poets have been forged.
The poet has no sword by which to fight
A poet’s ink is but his blood used to tattoo on other’s hearts
He brings forth his nostalgia letting life speak through him
He speaks of sins and forgiveness,
He speaks of justice and mercy,
He speaks of love and loss,
He speaks of laughter and tears
A poet seeks to heal through the expression of his love
He seeks not to be saved but lives for the golden elixir
The holy drink found only within the womb of life,
Only his beloved can take him nearer
Only through her he can be satisfied
What else would I like from you my beloved?
But to appease the pain of my misfortunes
I wish to lay on the fraternal bed of your body
I want to exhaust myself with your kisses, your moans, your lust.
I want to wake up next to you and be pampered by your kisses
And see your eyes water as I gently sing you lullabies
Hoping you can see yourself through my eyes
Everyday I wake up and my bed still empty
I am reminded you are not here
yet no one else will take your place.
This is the sad poem of a sailor turned poet
A man that was lost yet has been found
My story doesn’t tell of sailors and their exploits
Nor of mermaids or sea monsters
Nor of Romeos between the legs of Juliets
Nor of tormented bitter souls…
This is the impossible yet heroic story of a poet’s love for woman
This myth which flows through time “A poet and the unattainable woman”
The man who died long ago yet his soul was brought to life
For she is more than an average woman and goddess
Her soul tormented like mine
She is a warrior with a gypsy soul
She is a mother
She is my lover
She is my muse!