- Non-Erotic Poetry
- a pinch of valerian
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when you visit my grave bring with you
an oil lamp or lantern and glass vial with lid
to carry my feelings back home with you
I am here at your feet buried and wrapped
tightly within a tunic of Spanish moss
tendrils lay snug against my face
breathe with me,while you can
feel my breath bubbling up warm
from beneath the molded soil-
even the worms have feasted and gone
yet you remain-
with just a pinch of valerian
you became my slave
for Sophia-just one of many
- COMMENTS
Bill Dadaalmost 15 years agoWhile the Sophia story is interesting, your poem is so much more than interesting. I loved 'bring with you
...(a) glass vial with lid
to carry my feelings back home with you'
duddle146over 17 years agoTho' I lie at your feet ~ wrapped and buried ~ you can still feel my breath bubbling up. Chilling! Mystical rendering.
LeBrozover 17 years agoSedated and tranquil, to remain ever drawn to her
Never able to stay away for long.
Anonymousalmost 20 years ago...read NJ's explanation because I like the ambiguity in this poem. It is it's charm. Some lovely phrasing and imagery.
normal jeanalmost 20 years agoAuthordear tungtied, thanks for reading..if I tell you the whole story, it would make sense, but might spoil the rest of the poems, but I will let you in...
sophia nance was a young woman, aged about 28 when she died. There was an old legend about a beautiful woman in aglass casket who haunted a church here in SC, but no one knew it was real until a new station investigated and found that it was true.
No one knows why she died so soon, but she was buried in a local cemetary, in a coffin with a glass portent so people could see how lovely she was.
The cemetary is now beneath a church that was built atop the graveyad in the 1920's... her 2 children died at very young ages as well and no one knows why they died so young.
Its a beautful sad story, and when the news people found her grave, the glass had been cracked and her face is now covered by a slight layer of moss or mold, and she looks as though she is wearing a white mask..she is still beautiful and her memory is deserving of a much better poem than anything I could ever write...thank you for your comments all of you :) I think she would like that people still care about her
jean
