Breathless

Moonlight streaming through the curtains
tangling with lace slowly
spreading shadowy patterns across my skin

Evening. Mellifluous. Yours.

Wandering syllables rolling off my tongue
like the notes of a hymn as I reach to slowly
to pull Your body into me.

Sensuous, Smooth, Frisson.

Passion spilling on the sheets, a tangle of limbs
and kisses, unbroken gazes and deliberate
movements, unhurried trailing fingertips.

Prelude, Symphony, Crescendo.

Increased tempo, carnal desires, words
spilling in litany until the only thing I
can form in breathless voice is Your name.

Devotion. Worship. Absolution.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

~ © Valentyna Holloway

Do Not Reproduce Poetry In Whole Or In Part Without Permission

© @ValentyneDreams — Valentyna Holloway 2015

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Renascence ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

ALL I could see from where I stood
Was three long mountains and a wood;
I turned and looked the other way,
And saw three islands in a bay.
So with my eyes I traced the line      5
Of the horizon, thin and fine,
Straight around till I was come
Back to where I’d started from;
And all I saw from where I stood
Was three long mountains and a wood.       10
Over these things I could not see:
These were the things that bounded me;
And I could touch them with my hand,
Almost, I thought, from where I stand.
And all at once things seemed so small      15
My breath came short, and scarce at all.
But, sure, the sky is big, I said;
Miles and miles above my head;
So here upon my back I’ll lie
And look my fill into the sky.      20
And so I looked, and, after all,
The sky was not so very tall.
The sky, I said, must somewhere stop,
And—sure enough!—I see the top!
The sky, I thought, is not so grand;      25
I ’most could touch it with my hand!
And reaching up my hand to try,
I screamed to feel it touch the sky.
I screamed, and—lo!—Infinity
Came down and settled over me;      30
Forced back my scream into my chest,
Bent back my arm upon my breast,
And, pressing of the Undefined
The definition on my mind,
Held up before my eyes a glass      35
Through which my shrinking sight did pass
Until it seemed I must behold
Immensity made manifold;
Whispered to me a word whose sound
Deafened the air for worlds around,      40
And brought unmuffled to my ears
The gossiping of friendly spheres,
The creaking of the tented sky,
The ticking of Eternity.
I saw and heard and knew at last      45
The How and Why of all things, past,
And present, and forevermore.
The Universe, cleft to the core,
Lay open to my probing sense
That, sick’ning, I would fain pluck thence      50
But could not,—nay! But needs must suck
At the great wound, and could not pluck
My lips away till I had drawn
All venom out.—Ah, fearful pawn!
For my omniscience paid I toll      55
In infinite remorse of soul.
All sin was of my sinning, all
Atoning mine, and mine the gall
Of all regret. Mine was the weight
Of every brooded wrong, the hate      60
That stood behind each envious thrust,
Mine every greed, mine every lust.
And all the while for every grief,
Each suffering, I craved relief
With individual desire,—      65
Craved all in vain! And felt fierce fire
About a thousand people crawl;
Perished with each,—then mourned for all!
A man was starving in Capri;
He moved his eyes and looked at me;      70
I felt his gaze, I heard his moan,
And knew his hunger as my own.
I saw at sea a great fog bank
Between two ships that struck and sank;
A thousand screams the heavens smote;       75
And every scream tore through my throat.
No hurt I did not feel, no death
That was not mine; mine each last breath
That, crying, met an answering cry
From the compassion that was I.      80
All suffering mine, and mine its rod;
Mine, pity like the pity of God.
Ah, awful weight! Infinity
Pressed down upon the finite Me!
My anguished spirit, like a bird,      85
Beating against my lips I heard;
Yet lay the weight so close about
There was no room for it without.
And so beneath the weight lay I
And suffered death, but could not die.      90

Long had I lain thus, craving death,
When quietly the earth beneath
Gave way, and inch by inch, so great
At last had grown the crushing weight,
Into the earth I sank till I      95
Full six feet under ground did lie,
And sank no more,—there is no weight
Can follow here, however great.
From off my breast I felt it roll,
And as it went my tortured soul      100
Burst forth and fled in such a gust
That all about me swirled the dust.

Deep in the earth I rested now;
Cool is its hand upon the brow
And soft its breast beneath the head      105
Of one who is so gladly dead.
And all at once, and over all
The pitying rain began to fall;
I lay and heard each pattering hoof
Upon my lowly, thatchèd roof,      110
And seemed to love the sound far more
Than ever I had done before.
For rain it hath a friendly sound
To one who’s six feet under ground;
And scarce the friendly voice or face:      115
A grave is such a quiet place.

The rain, I said, is kind to come
And speak to me in my new home.
I would I were alive again
To kiss the fingers of the rain,      120
To drink into my eyes the shine
Of every slanting silver line,
To catch the freshened, fragrant breeze
From drenched and dripping apple-trees.
For soon the shower will be done,      125
And then the broad face of the sun
Will laugh above the rain-soaked earth
Until the world with answering mirth
Shakes joyously, and each round drop
Rolls, twinkling, from its grass-blade top.      130
How can I bear it; buried here,
While overhead the sky grows clear
And blue again after the storm?
O, multi-colored, multiform,
Beloved beauty over me,      135
That I shall never, never see
Again! Spring-silver, autumn-gold,
That I shall never more behold!
Sleeping your myriad magics through,
Close-sepulchred away from you!      140
O God, I cried, give me new birth,
And put me back upon the earth!
Upset each cloud’s gigantic gourd
And let the heavy rain, down-poured
In one big torrent, set me free,      145
Washing my grave away from me!

I ceased; and through the breathless hush
That answered me, the far-off rush
Of herald wings came whispering
Like music down the vibrant string      150
Of my ascending prayer, and—crash!
Before the wild wind’s whistling lash
The startled storm-clouds reared on high
And plunged in terror down the sky,
And the big rain in one black wave      155
Fell from the sky and struck my grave.
I know not how such things can be;
I only know there came to me
A fragrance such as never clings
To aught save happy living things;      160
A sound as of some joyous elf
Singing sweet songs to please himself,
And, through and over everything,
A sense of glad awakening.
The grass, a-tiptoe at my ear,      165
Whispering to me I could hear;
I felt the rain’s cool finger-tips
Brushed tenderly across my lips,
Laid gently on my sealèd sight,
And all at once the heavy night      170
Fell from my eyes and I could see,—
A drenched and dripping apple-tree,
A last long line of silver rain,
A sky grown clear and blue again.
And as I looked a quickening gust      175
Of wind blew up to me and thrust
Into my face a miracle
Of orchard-breath, and with the smell,—
I know not how such things can be!—
I breathed my soul back into me.       180
Ah! Up then from the ground sprang I
And hailed the earth with such a cry
As is not heard save from a man
Who has been dead, and lives again.
About the trees my arms I wound;      185
Like one gone mad I hugged the ground;
I raised my quivering arms on high;
I laughed and laughed into the sky,
Till at my throat a strangling sob
Caught fiercely, and a great heart-throb      190
Sent instant tears into my eyes;
O God, I cried, no dark disguise
Can e’er hereafter hide from me
Thy radiant identity!
Thou canst not move across the grass      195
But my quick eyes will see Thee pass,
Nor speak, however silently,
But my hushed voice will answer Thee.
I know the path that tells Thy way
Through the cool eve of every day;      200
God, I can push the grass apart
And lay my finger on Thy heart!

The world stands out on either side
No wider than the heart is wide;
Above the world is stretched the sky,—      205
No higher than the soul is high.
The heart can push the sea and land
Farther away on either hand;
The soul can split the sky in two,
And let the face of God shine through.      210
But East and West will pinch the heart
That can not keep them pushed apart;
And he whose soul is flat—the sky
Will cave in on him by and by.

Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892–1950). Renascence and Other Poems. 1917.

poppies10

Restored

Do You think that lost things have a way of
finding You again? Of coming back to You?
Do they? Or maybe they don’t. Maybe that
is how the love survives through lifetimes,
through millennia, through the ages,
through our arcane history. Maybe love
has a way of surviving through the ages,
held deep inside of us, lifetime after lifetime,
through Heaven and back to Earth, fallen
Seraphim and Sylph-like creature in need
of Holy redemption. Maybe that is how we
survived, that the love inside of us survived.
That we wouldn’t have to lament each other
leaving, that we would be embedded so deep
inside of each other that we would instinctually
remember each other lifetime after lifetime even
if we are tested by the Divine, by the Holy, by God.
That we are molecularly so deep inside of each
other that we pulse through each other’s veins,
through each other’s hearts, through each other’s
souls. Loving each other, unable to lament because
our love is so intertwined that we would
recognise each other through centuries, millennia,
through all the ages. That it wouldn’t matter how
long it was, that we would find each other and
be reunited and God would smile at us as we say
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I missed You so much,
I missed You, I missed us, I found a way back to us, back
to love, back to the lost.’ and the Heavens will
smile and say ‘It’s Divine, it’s redemption, it’s
absolution, it’s eternal.’ and as our lost is
reunited we will understand that everything
else was never be because it wasn’t ours to
begin with. And we will embrace our lost and
feel found. And simultaneously we will whisper
‘I won’t let go. I won’t let go. I won’t let go.’

~ © Valentyna Holloway

Do Not Reproduce Poetry In Whole Or In Part Without Permission

© @ValentyneDreams — Valentyna Holloway 2015

Deliverance

Standing on the middle of the bridge, holding
the match out. Reaching for You, aching for You
to take my hands, so I can let that match go. It’s
lonely in the middle, torn between both sides, not
knowing whether to stay or to cross it, suspended
above the cacophony, stay, go, stay, go, cross, leave
the turmoil behind, cross, leave the agony behind,
cross leave the emotional blackmail behind, You hold
out your hand, reassuring that You will hold on to me
and not let go, grasp my hand and never let me be
overcome by overwhelming indifference again. Walk
towards You and You will meet me in the middle. You
won’t leave me hanging, You won’t let the pain
enter my heart anymore, You won’t let me be a
commodity anymore, You won’t let me feel like I
am half-burnt and running out of matches, that
I can just hold Your hand, turn my back, cross and
go. No one told me that You would meet me in the
middle, that You would shield me from the kerosene
burn. That it wasn’t necessary to burn the bridge down.
That waiting wasn’t supposed to feel like it was
forever. That desperation didn’t feel like saltwater
being poured into my lungs choking me, that it
wasn’t an anchor around my heart dragging me
down to the bottom of a seemingly endless ocean.
You parted the clouds and revealed to me that
God is watching, that the Angels are singing
songs of praise, that You fell from Heaven
to save me. That You want me to know the Divine
wants me to know I am more than that, more
than the past has concealed from me, more than
anyone ever wanted me to know, to feel, to burn,
to consume. You gather me into Your arms, holding
me in Your longing, in my trembling aching for You,
safe in Your gentle arms and You whisper for me
to walk away from it all with You. To cross that
bridge, to put the match down, to breathe and
let You carry me in Your tender arms as we
cross that bridge together. To leave it all unburnt.
Leave it all behind. Leave turmoil for calm. Leave
agony for absolution. Leave indifference for
boundless ecstasy. Unburnt, found, safe.
You shelter me with Your love.
Deliverance.
Loved. Loved. Loved.

~ © Valentyna Holloway

Do Not Reproduce Poetry In Whole Or In Part Without Permission

© @ValentyneDreams — Valentyna Holloway 2015

Take Me

My hands, trembling,
Yours are too.
The sun eclipses in jealousy
letting the moon hide her face.
Watching Your eyes through
fluttering lashes as You taste
my lips, slowly biting and
savouring the cherry.

My lips are needy,
Yours are too.
The stars tremble and
burn into a supernova, exploding
as they ache in longing to
feel how Your hands are slowly
moving in tandem with Your kisses
as they stroke up and down my body.

My fingers are needy,
Yours are too.
Comets flying through the sky
in elegant trails of stardust as
I slowly move against Your body
nuzzling into Your chest before
I slowly move downwards in
sacramental devotion of burning passion.

It’s okay if Your body trembles and You moan,
I am too.
The cosmos envies how we smolder.
The cosmos envies how we quake.
Take me. Take me. Take me.

~ © Valentyna Holloway

Do Not Reproduce Poetry In Whole Or In Part Without Permission

© @ValentyneDreams — Valentyna Holloway 2015

Recognition

My heart recognised You before my eyes could. I mistook
You for poetry at first. The way You got into my veins and
entered my heart, silently, swiftly, in a rush of emotion carried
on a tide. Like water spilling over the edge of a glass and
being caught by the rain.
My mouth recognised You before my eyes could.
The desperate longing to feel the softness of Your skin beneath
my lips. And my lips, they parted in the unconscious
remembrance of our kisses, they ached in longing for a
feeling they couldn’t quite remember, but knew it was all
they required for sustenance.
My fingers recognised You before my eyes could. Reaching
out for the air around You, a familiarity of touch, the imprint
of a memory of being locked together with Yours. The air
around You electric and warm, my hands needed to fill that
space around You, needed to touch You,
needed to feel You and stroll along Your arms as I enfold You in mine.
My skin recognised You beefore my eyes could. Magnetic
impulses being drawn towards You. Every cell feeling the
electricity like a thunderstorm washing over it, feeling the
lightning. Feeling alive. Feeling a longing to be under Your
hands, under Your fingers, under Your mouth, under
Your weight with You moving against me.
What I am meant to say was ‘You are so familiar to me I could
swear we have crossed paths before, maybe even in another
lifetime, is that possible?’ but what I heard was ‘It’s been
so long, I thought I would never find You again.
Welcome home, we haven’t lost each other.
I remembered. I remembered. I remembered.’

~ © Valentyna Holloway

Do Not Reproduce Poetry In Whole Or In Part Without Permission

© @ValentyneDreams — Valentyna Holloway 2015

It’s You

Your hands, they make poetry of me. It’s
Your limbs I want twisted around my curves, molding
Your hands to me making me beautiful not broken, not
a burning disaster, but a burning passion, like flames
from a sacred fire, flickering up to the sky, worship
I will stay on my knees until You grant me absolution. Your
eyes focused on me, slowly smoldering me in the burn, while I unwaveringly hold Your gaze, only briefly breaking
it to gaze slowly down along the wonder that is You. Dark
lashes fluttering as I inhale sharply, little staccato breaths
punctuated by lashes kissing as I say a prayer of thanks
to God for letting me have You tangled into me, tangled into us. You hands, the things they touch, the way they
run along my skin making art, making me feel like I am flying, soaring, controlling my breathing, so strong and yet so gentle at the same time ~ like You.
Let me hold them, let me feel Your fingers, let me run my fingers along them feeling You feeling me, like capturing the moon, the swell of the tide, how You control the swells of emotion inside me. Holding them as I kiss Your mouth, like notes of music, I want You to moan from pleasure like the sweetest symphony, like a nocture, You are my Moonlight Sonata, like music so sacred it can only be listened to in the dead of night because it seems so Holy. I want to kiss You like that.
It’s You,
like fireworks,
like my heart beating,
like an electrical storm
it’s You. It’s always You.
It’s You. It’s You. It’s You.

~ © Valentyna Holloway

Do Not Reproduce Poetry In Whole Or In Part Without Permission

© @ValentyneDreams — Valentyna Holloway 2015