I have been missing in action. For a very long time. And I am very sorry for keeping this place dark and ghostly.
My last post on this blog was over 2 months ago. I do not even know what to attribute it to. True, I have been busy,but then, I have also written when I was working before now. For some reason, this period, anytime the thought of actually writing something came to my mind, a certain dread fell over me and I would sulk away. I tried to compensate by being more active on social media, but somehow, it didn’t feel enough.
While I was away, I felt this very strong longing for Viola Allo’s poetry. I follow her blog, but since last summer that she took a break to pursue a career in library science, she hasn’t put up anything on it. I found myself wondering what she was up to, how her program was going, if she was alright. I found myself missing her.
We do not know each other personally, but she inspires me in the way that she writes- soft, delicate, feathery, almost as if the paper were some fragile piece of fabric. Such that only the softest words and the most delicate expressions could be gently tacked like flowery designs onto it without damaging it. She inspired this poem. I hope to share it with her, whenever she returns to the internet.
Before then, you my friends, have first dips.
The warning is belated, but anyways… Long poem ahead. Proceed at your own risk.
Let us make love on paper
So take, take me away
And let the lovers we never were
Dissolve between these sheets.
Let us live the romance we never had
With only these pages as witness.
Let us make love
In our image and after our likeness
Let us block out the distractions of reality
With the beautiful drapes of our imagination
Let me stare into your soul
And run my fingers through your thoughts
Let me whisper sweet letters
Into the nape of your neck
Let the steaming hotness of my breath
Fire up the turbines at the end of the winding path
Through tragus, helix, antihelix and the grooves between them, in the labyrinth of your ears,
Let the spinning turbines light up your iris
Till I can see the candle in your eyes
And the candour in your heart.
Let me dip my fingertips
Into the oil of your metaphors
And rub my palms together
In time to the crackle of the fireplace
And the scent of coloured candles
Let me rub them warm between my palms
Till they dissolve into paragraphs
Then let me run my palms down your back.
Through the highway of your spine
To the skin of your scalp
And back down.
Let me string my sentences like kisses
Through your toes, your feet, your shins, your thighs
Let me watch them condense into plot
And ebb and flow
Like the recitations of a seasoned poet
At the point of horizon
Where the heavens meet the earth.
Let me pour my meditations
Like hot wax upon the twin towers spires
And watch the lava shift and morph
As the earth beneath her groans and moans
Before it stiffens into shape.
And as the waves of your passion crash into me
I will stand still like a deer
Caught in the daze of your awesomeness.
Let me contemplate the flavour of each line
As I roll each phase, each word, around my tongue and between my teeth
And separate each syllable
From his kin.
Till my lips begin to babble
And my knees begin to buckle.
Let us make love on paper
At the point of my tumescent pen.
So that the ink of my words may spurt forth
And paint vivid landscapes
On the paper-white canvas
Of your maiden mind.
-for Viola Allo.
24th June, 2017.
theMDmuse © 2017