Seeds of Love

I can think of few of the poet's works as profoundly instrospective, earnest and both romantic and erotic as this one, written to his paramour "The Mad Gypsy". Although, looking at some of the new stuff he's churning out, we may be heading for an eclipsing phase.

Seeds of Love

stand before me in silence
there is in me no violence
but a warm and vibrant passion
born of your beauty, your heart,
your courage taking the mission
so few would dare consider.
so rare the angel. so rare the heart.

our lips touch. gently. and mentally
we are already joined in the sharing
of souls, the merging of roles left
to us by those who never made it free
of their own perfidies and poisons.
bound by their own chains, they fall,
while reigns the heart of fire and light.

and our heart, shared in sum and meaning,
beating for the touch of your breasts
against my chest, my fingertips measuring
the curves of your flesh as I am pleasuring
you with all the will and wiles provided
by a nature born of God and reverent
to your love and desires. fires swept
from toe tip to the crown of your head.

my hands explore your back and the firm
sweet curves of you as press against my kiss
and draw your tender leg between mine
to lay your scent upon me, acknowledging
a territory won and now sealed as breaks
the carnal wax to open the envelope
of a message of dreams incarnate tonight.

bright is the fire, hot is the iron, cool...
cool is not a part of this equation as we rage
like liquids hypergolic, igniting on contact
as you take me into you to show me your hunger.
plunging into the heart you left open just a crack
to draw me nearer with the wet grip of sanity
I surrendered to our mutual benefit.

the blossom comes and fills your senses
as your eyes widen and you writhe in awakening
as you call out your deepest secrets of a heart
ripped open by the intensity of my touch.
brave hearts never die and we would try
to catch the arc of the celestial artillery
our hearts now sound as in ears deafened silent.

but the silence is not for us and you twine to me
like an ivy to decorate the stones I share gladly
as you reach your leaves to the sun to draw heat
and hope and joy and pleasure from a moment
that means all if we never allow it to fade, never
cut it from our gardens of life. never forget
the moment when you felt me share my seeds of love.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.