Tuesday, March 9, 2010

on a bed of moss i bleed

the entrance of the womb



annie prepares a bed of moss for me
she the crone
me not quite yet
i still bleed
dark blood flows
streaking me
leaving red marks
on white moss
her words are wise
i wish were mine
but i am still me
and always be
i bleed
what will i do
with tears
when my body stops flowing
waves of blood
i think erroneously
tears of heartbreak
belong to young woman
possibly connected
to child bearing years
where men do matter
where we long to be entered
hungry for their seed
our child, i carried it
but now?
this late in life
still bleeding
still making love
deeper now and more full filling
i smile, this loving now
why now is it so very good:)
yes!, i realize
even after
i can still cry over love
maybe making love
will get better yet
tears might even
flow more freely
the longing,
our bodies mingling
the coming
more exciting yet:)
through this, my own body blog
through women friends most importantly
and falling deeply
for another man
i know
the joys, the sorrows in our heart
they belong to any age

and i laugh from deep within
from deep within the womb
let me have as many loving lovers
in this coming on
second half of life

that's why i am just a newborn now:)

4 comments:

  1. I had a really good poem and I lost it to blogger :( This is tastefully done, my friend. It feels tribal to me.

    Here's another. I hope it is as good.

    Moon Worship

    I receive my life
    from the blood you shed for me
    and gave to the earth.

    I shall turn to fire,
    worship blazing from the source,
    then bathe in white snow
    and wrap in the moss
    of your bed, knowing at last
    the truth of night's sky.

    ReplyDelete
  2. If you copy this poem, I changed "gave" to "give".

    ReplyDelete
  3. tasteful you say, tribal. thanks for that.
    I like your better, wiser, deeper. i say; i got the body, you got the words, i shed the blood, you give it meaning :)

    ReplyDelete
  4. Maybe...I thought your poem powerful and on point, thoroughly female. This morning in processing, my poem changed to this:

    Moon Worship

    I receive my life
    from the blood you shed for me
    and give to the earth.

    I shall turn to fire
    worship, blazing from the source,
    then bathe in white snow
    and wrap in the moss
    from your bed, knowing at last
    the truth of night's sky.

    ReplyDelete