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    AC Benus
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Light & Dragonflies: Nature Poems/Love Poems - 10. At your feet

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Urwald brausen wuchtig deine Lippen

Moosgeschmiegt

zirpt zag

mein Herz

schnellt vom krummen Bogen meiner Stirn

nach der goldnen Locke

übertänzelnd Deines Lachens blauen Mai

Wild der Augen schärfsten Sehnsuchtspfeil

sinkt aufs Knie

die Hände schluchzen

von der Seele Rücken springt das Leid entzwei

und zersplittert einen Tanz des Glücks

Sorge wankt geknickt

die Sterne flüstern

leise weht das Blut

und des Atems Teppich

fällt

pulsauf pulsab

stockend

dir

zu Füßen

 

 ---------------------------------

 

Powerfully mist your lips in the primal woods

while my heart

chirps from nests

of moss

and the swerving crook of my outlook

leaps to the golden curls

dancing over Your laughter in bluest May

Wild, the sharpest arrow of the eyes’ desire

sinks to its knees

as hands start begging

as sorrow splits in two along the soul’s spine

and dissipates the happy movement’s dancing

and staggers bent sorrow

as the stars whisper

softly below the blood

upon the carpet of breath

falling

pulse up, pulse down

thickening

there

at your feet

 

 

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Copyright © 2023 AC Benus; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Many emotions at play in this, @AC Benus.  Beautiful, the evocations of happiness, a misty woods morning, of sorrows changing happiness; yet with a beauty of expressiveness.

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I love that the primal woods host the poet’s joy, that Wild can split and stagger sorrow; and that stars whisper to him in the calm at the end. This is evocative and beautiful.

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On 10/2/2023 at 8:30 AM, ReaderPaul said:

Many emotions at play in this, @AC Benus.  Beautiful, the evocations of happiness, a misty woods morning, of sorrows changing happiness; yet with a beauty of expressiveness.

Thank you, ReaderPaul. I like your turn of phrase with beauty of expressiveness. If a person ever thinks about Expressionistic poetry, and its many offshoots like Dadaism and Futurism, they may not associate 'beauty' with the movement at all. But, just as we can have bad dreams and nightmares, we can have happy (and even wet) dreams. Runge uniquely, as far as I've encountered, explores the beauty of such lovely dreams.

And as I mentioned in a previous entry -- in regards to the one I think of as the handjob poem -- the poem above is the one I think of as the blowjob poem ;)

 

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On 10/2/2023 at 9:39 AM, Parker Owens said:

I love that the primal woods host the poet’s joy, that Wild can split and stagger sorrow; and that stars whisper to him in the calm at the end. This is evocative and beautiful.

Thank you, Parker. Your comments here make me think about language, and how new turns of phrase are introduced. Our mother tongue is infused so beautifully (and spicily peppered too) with new words and ideas of analogy intro'd by Shakespeare. But here, Runge seems to suggest that we need to re-spice up our ways of thinking, and such phrases as you mentioned are as equally valuable as ones penned 400 years ago

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