blog, Pat Aitcheson writes, poetry

The Time Is Now

Photo by Dawid Zawiła on Unsplash

It is the time of sleep and not-sleep
but warm, always.
It is the time of seen and not-seen
soft focus, indistinct.
It is the time of dream and not-dream
yet absolutely real.
This is the place, mapped and not-mapped
each hill and curve already known.

These are not adventures, and here be no dragons.
We know this gentle push and pull
caressing the edge of darkness
teasing the frontier of rest.
The familiar needs no more
when soft half-light reveals us to each other again
veiled in a gossamer web of sighs.

It is that time.

audio, blog, Pat Aitcheson writes, poetry

Mine

love hearts_Public Domain Pictures
Public Domain Pictures via pixabay

listen to this poem here:

We whispered quietly as lovers do
of you, and me, and us. We came to be
so intertwined no boundaries were seen,
an alchemy whereby two became one.
And when in velvet dark I murmured soft —
a soundtrack to our games of hide and seek
of push and pull, sharp teeth and tenderness
traced round its edge with just sufficient pain
to ground us in mortality — yours, mine
seemed all the same. We kissed and lived our choice.
You held me close, in case I floated off
into the dark skies of forgotten dreams.

You didn’t pause, my love, or think it strange
that passion’s language is awash with death
and dangerous. We fall and drown, expose
soft beating hearts. We’re careless with our trust.
But when you said I’m yours excitement woke
a lurking appetite that stalked the depths.
I took your willing sacrifice with joy
and feasted on you, gobbled up – your flesh
consumed, assimilated thoroughly
while weeping for my loss. Another one
whose wish came true. You’re part of me always.

To taste your enemy and then devour
is to possess all of his wondrous strengths.
I almost held back this time. Sadly you
my love, were too delicious to resist.

blog, Pat Aitcheson writes, poetry

mark the spot

fire-X_darksouls1
darksouls1 via pixabay

glances across the room slide away half smiles
(gravitating into orbit)

pulse stutters close enough to touch don’t
(slide fingertips against my palm)

warm breath against my neck goosebumps bloom
(close the distance cross the line)

exploring gentle passion
(see taste savour)

dance a sensual tango back and forth
(push pull resist yield)

all of me and more
(take everything)

together let’s uncover
hidden treasures off the map

blog, Pat Aitcheson writes, poetry

Night moves

child-moon_Mysticsartdesign
Mysticsartdesign via pixabay

Every single night he calls me–
Let’s play hide and seek.
Stepping just ahead so slowly,
close your eyes, don’t peek.

If you look beyond the shadow
past the weary ghost
see, right there. I really do know
what you need the most.

Oh I know he doesn’t mean it
fooled me yet again.
Never catch him for a minute;
sleep’s a losing game.