Sonnet, for My Ilsa in the East

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You know who you are. Or should.

We've kissed, though we've not kissed. For lips can play
Imagination streams as well as mind.
To say I have not kissed you takes away
Your touch, but not lip's feeling left behind.
For more than physicality is Love,
Though Thought affects the Physical as well—
A postulate impossible to prove
To fingertips that cannot smooth the swell
Envisioned of your loosed and languid breasts.
No psychic, I, nor any kind of seer;
Just lover. One who's distant, not bereft,
For while I can imagine you, you're here.

    No kiss is still just kiss, when played again.
    Why Paris never needs to be explained.


Survivor Poetry Contest
Form N (English Sonnet)

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4 Comments
greenmountaineergreenmountaineerover 14 years ago
Delightful

I'm paraphrashing here, perhaps incorrectly with the attribution, but I believe it was Frost who once described poetry as a sudden discovery of delight. That's the affect most of your poems have on me.

I enjoy so much your fluency of language, the way you structure it, and your ability to capture in very clear images a wide array of human experience.

Thank you for sharing your gift.

UnderYourSpellUnderYourSpellover 14 years ago
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Lovely hope she reads it

vrosej10vrosej10over 14 years ago
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Ah, pushkine, always dense and meaty. I got a lot of different messages in this poem. You are never single layered are you?

EroticOrogenyEroticOrogenyover 14 years ago
nice sonnet

And nice commentary on remebered love.

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