Mimi-Mona Poetry: We Share A Bed

©We Share A Bed

Mimi Wolske

All Rights Reserved

I'm a fugitive from the prison of my beliefs.

We share a bed... Your bed.

That premiere day there, I should have heeded

the flashing voices in my head

that told me I'd be sleeping with a devil.

Why is it the taste of you lingers on my lips, in my mouth, in my memory?

Tentative, hypnotic fingers touch my scars,

the ones I threw out of my second-floor bubble life;

the ones so horrible that I forgot them,

until I close my eyes, and then they play in my sleep.

Stroking them, mapping them affectionately,

you search for reveries... But I'd squeezed them

—like a whitehead —and they'd all died.

I call you my man of few words; do you know why?

Because actions speak louder than words and your actions are loud.

We share a bed... My bed.

It's more than showers and sex

with me and my clipped wings and cock-eyed halo.

I only need look into your eyes

to see years of scars and recent lies and a grain of salt. 

I've memorized the way you breathe —active and at rest.

We share a bed... Of our own making,

with military corners

that are wrestled away from their hold,

that release the secrets we all try to hide,

that are bound by lovers

who look past imperfections,

without exception or condition;

who become more on a well-worn, seven-year mattress.

Mimi-Mona Romantic Poetry: Patches of Nepal and Memories

©Patches of Nepal and Memories

Mimi Wolske, November 2014

Mimi Wolske-Mona Arizona™

All Rights Reserved

  

I wore my purple and blue jacket this morning;

the one we saw at the open-air market,

that drew me like a lode stone; the one from Nepal.

I wish you could have been here, seen my happiness,

my surprise when the box arrived. I opened it

and wore the hand-made garment immediately.

Closing my eyes, wrapping my fingers about my

elbows, memories of our time together rushed

in with all the passionate desire I felt then,

with promises of its return each time I wear

the colorful patches of our love from Nepal.

MIMI-MONA Love Poetry: Love May Be A Paradigm, My Love Is Not

©Love May Be A Paradigm, My Love Is Not

Mimi Wolske, October 2014

Mimi Wolske - Mona Arizona™

All Rights Reserved

Yes; I danced to the sounds of a different drum;

I've been mistaken and confused so many times.

Then you strolled into my world, you made things hum,

And you named my uniqueness using paradigms.

The warmth of your hugs melt my heart like a stripling

and I find purpose...it is to please only you;

all thoughts of disappointing you seem crippling

but use of inflected forms must discontinue.

I'm not a stereotypical example;

I'm not a general conception, a given

Enquiry cannot be undertaken—how dull!

I'm the lover whose devotion can't be riven.

With your presence, I've an acute wish to achieve;

I can do things now I once would never believe.

love isn't love until you give it away they say, even through a tongue-in-cheek love sonnet :)

POETRY - ROMANTIC: Virgo and Aquarius

Virgo and Aquarius

©Mimi Wolske, April 2014

All Rights Reserved

  

There exists a tension

between the moment

and the permanence,

between the flash of life and

the patinated reflection

that is years and years old.

If you can believe

what you see here, or there,

are you aroused by

some kind of feeling—

is it a vulnerability—

or the possibility of one?

How do we begin to

address this relationship...

not the process or the

rationalism,

which in our modern world

are stifled to often?

Dazzling light becomes subdued

polarity that's lost in an

emotional entanglement

of kisses, embraces, and tears,

which are credulous promises

of love's endurance.

Unreserved, we fell into

an unconditional

love that met the desired

qualifications of

promise through actions with

a capacity for so much more.

A desire for order, a lust for chaos,

perfection and intelligence,

honesty and trust, obsession

and eccentricity,

a unique and surprisingly

comfortable union coexists.

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