an apple on your lips

I find your lips in the night

So strong, so sensual

the taste of a

sweet apple.

And your words I would

invite,

softly spoken as I hear

your whisper.

The aroma fragrance of lavender

in moonlight streams.

I cannot escape the caress of

your lips on mine,

and then I see the shadow

of your face in the wine.

And yet I struggle with

you in the night.

Wrestling in my dreaams,

where I long to see you.

You within streams of pleasure,

and then I find the caress of your

lips one more time.

And then I taste the apple on your

lips crushed now from your lips

on mine.

poem copyright Cheryl Zweigart 2010

photo copyright BRowland 2010

nutrition

if i could lift

a grain of rice

to your lips,

i would

but the gesture

frightens you

your survival mode

requires

a different grain

something more attuned

to your starvation

a mild poison

as an antidote

to your body’s despair

photo and poem copyright browland 2010

alice

alice, my acrobatic love,

hastens the simmering sauce,

melting pans

in her japanese fans

she is my sweet,

sweet delight

skimming toys

from the rosy broth

in her little boots

and citron gloves

she emits cries

of horrible neccesity

measuring goodbyes

in teaspoons of hot mustard

i cry.

she taps the floor

while packing her peacock

and button collection

slams the door

and runs.

image and poem copyright browland 2010

Leaves in a Cradle

LEAVES IN A CRADLE

Through the pain on the ground dry crisp leaves

They lay on the ground droplets of

mirrors interweave.

The season that goes full circle

Hillsides that overlap with streams

of purple.

Expressions within the shadows images

soft windows.

Of a world on droplets shimmer as

the wind blows.

As they curl whispers of life and death

on gems.

A life full circle a brush of lavender on

the rims.

As lazy they lay on frosty silver ground

Droplets lay on leaves soft and round.

The rain cradles in the leaves in the night.

As streams they carry the tears through

the moonlight.

Until a shadowy cloud drifts across

the moon.

Shadows on dry leaves in the night

a sad musica tune.

What is life? What is death?

Only in the last breath.

Poem Copyright Cheryl Zweigart

January 1, 2010

photo copyright BRowland 2010