Witchcraft – an ovillejo poem

What magic makes my fever rise?
It’s your eyes!

What alchemy my heart beat trips?
Your hips!

How do you tempt me, charm me cruel?
I’m a fool!

You’ve lit a fire and fed it fuel!
You cause my soul to shake its wings —
my body does the wildest things!
It’s your eyes, your hips — I’m a fool!

—–

POETIC FORM:

OVILLEJO – a ten-line poem made up of 3 rhyming couplets, plus a quatrain. The first line of each couplet is an 8 syllable question, while the second corresponding lines are 2 to 3 syllable responses or echoes. The final quatrain is usually a redondilla, written in trochaic tetrameter. The final line of the quatrain combines lines 2, 4, and 6. The overall rhyme scheme is aa/bb/cc/cddc.

POETIC FORM DIAGRAM:

a (8 syllables)
a (2-3 syllables)

b (8 syllables)
b (2-3 syllables)

c (8 syllables)
c (2-3 syllables)

c (8 syllables) trochaic pentameter
d (8 syllables) trochaic pentameter
d (8 syllables) trochaic pentameter
c lines 2, 4, and 6 (8 syllables) trochaic pentameter

AUDIO FILE:

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To My Several Loves

I have a non-exclusive heart and it beats to love more than one. I wouldn’t be surprised to find its voices are several, throbbing in a syncopated harmony.

When certain love songs come on the radio, I feel my chest tighten, my mouth stretches into a smile and I remember. Those memories are of more than one… they overlap and coexist in his oversized standing-room-only heart.

You see I’ve had so many first kisses first dances first make-up-make-out sessions, after first-lover’s-quarrels… I’ve loved in messy, muddy, mixed-up puddles and those who know my love and share it, are happy to celebrate the others. They understand that my love spills out into many cups.

Still, in this heart, oh my lover, are things that only belong to you. There are kisses in my mouth, hidden beneath my tongue, that are yours alone. I don’t touch anyone else the way I touch you — I cannot — because they are not you, and you are not them.

No relationship looks like ours, and that is as it should be. We are the only two who could build these memories and recall them fondly, in years to come.

There are plans, fantasies, wishes, and dreams only we two can share. There are no parts of me you to which you do not have free access — your key to my heart fits all the doors, and there are several keys.

At the same time there are things in me that only you can own, and I cherish them. I protect them like a fiercely monogamous lover — it is a dichotomy I cannot fully explain.

—–

Pack

fourmountainfriends

There’s a wolf at my back —
bristling fur, thick and black, and she
lends her power to me.
At my side, you will see a bear —
shoulders strong — fierce, dark stare.
Nearby too, see her there — she is
lioness, courageous —
my friend. She loves my mess as though
it was her own, I know.
We stand. We fight. We grow — as one.
We’ll climb until we’re done,
and stand there in the sun. We’ll dance,
unbowed by circumstance.
No foe with sword or lance – could stop
our progress to the top.
Our gaze need never drop — our pride,
found only in our stride.
In love we are allied, and strong.
To us we each belong —
our truth is now the song of pack.

—-

POETIC FORM:

luc bat – (vietnamese “six-eight”) Alternating lines of 6 and 8 syllables. The rhyme scheme renews at the end of every 8-syllable line and rhymes on the 6th syllable of both lines. No set length or subject matter.

—–

FORM DIAGRAM:

xxxxxA
xxxxxAxB
xxxxxB
xxxxxBxC
xxxxxC
xxxxxCxD
xxxxxD
xxxxxDxA

—–

AUDIO FILE:

The Way She Leaves Me

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It’s 4 a.m. and she brings me coffee. She sits with me in the bed. And she says things that make the wings in my soul twitch and tremble, preparing to fly. Not away, I would never fly away from her, in the frightened uncomfortable way of wild, nervous birds. No, this is more of a soaring on pure, clean joy, at being so greatly loved and cared for.

We talk in the darkness, steam rising from our cups and honesty filling the room with wakeful heat. She is preparing to leave me for the day — it is a Monday and work is required — but I can feel her struggling with the desire to crawl back beneath the covers with me and stay. She falls silent sometimes, gazes at me like the Wolf she is, like I am the moon in her early morning sky. I am.

I watch her shoulders tense as if they were covered in bristling fur. I feel her teeth clawing at my neck and nails biting into my hip. She will leave me soon but she wants me hungry before she goes. What’s more, she wants to carry that hunger with her too. She wants to feel it in her bones all day — to know that no matter the distance between us, I ache with it just as she does.

She checks the clock again, and growls, rolling out of bed. The right thing is pulling her, and it always wins. It’s one of the things I love about her — although today, I groan, protesting loudly about it. I watch her putting clothes on her body, and wonder how she can make that process just as gut-wrenchingly sexy as taking them off.

She knows I will linger here, in her bed. I will sip the remainder of my coffee, pull her still-warm pillow tight against my body, and watch the sunrise through her window before drifting back to sleep. Oh. So. Hungry. She tucks in her shirt tail, and threads her belt into the loops on her jeans. She pulls the blankets up around my shoulders and leans in for a last kiss, then two more.

I watch her pull the bedroom door closed and then listen for the echo of her work boots on the hardwood floor. She is leaving. Twelve steps between here and the front door and every last one feels like the Grand Canyon. Still I smile in the darkness of her bedroom. I watch her headlights sweep the ceiling over my head. I know she is a hungry Wolf, and she will be back.

—–

Love and Lovers, Sex and Bisexuality

“I want a life of a million lovers. I want to love you.”

“When I see you we will embrace and hold a hug long enough to glimpse some insight from each other’s heartbeat.”

“When we walk down the street we shall link arms, pause frequently, and turn our toes and noses towards the other to speak directly without modesty.”

“I do not think that our connection is somehow weakened because we do not share our bodies with each other.”

“For love is love is love is love, and that is what I want.”

“I only want us to fall in love.”

~Can We Be Lovers & Not Have Sex? on Elephant Journal by Brentan Schellenbach

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“A bi person has the capacity for romantic and/or sexual attraction to more than one gender.  For most people, that simply means that you can be attracted to both men and women.”

“As a bi person, you do not have to feel the same kind or intensity of attraction to all genders.”

“Understanding and acknowledging your own sexuality is a personal process and is about living with integrity and being true to yourself.”

“A sexual identity is about who you want to romance. Romance does not equal sex. Romance is who you want to hear laugh, who you want to give valentines to and breakfast in bed and comfort when they’re crying.”

~Bisexual.org

I have been falling in love with boys since I was six years old. I know well how to do this. I know what excites me, what intrigues me, what attracts me to men. I know how to flirt with men, how to use my mind and my body to turn them on. I know what works, what gets their attention, what keeps it. I celebrate that power, and try to use it wisely. I am confident in my sexuality when it comes to members of the opposite sex. I’m a sometimes messy, jealous and difficult human. I’m also a sexy, attractive, loving, passionate woman, who builds relationships with men that are fucking amazing. (It helps that I choose some pretty kick-ass men.)

I began to be curious about romantic relationships with women, about fifteen years ago, in my early thirties. Today, you see a lot of media about being bi, and there’s a very strong message about bisexuality not equaling confusion. I agree, people should not be asked to “pick a team”, that’s just silly. But when you set that argument aside, I can say that yes, I am bisexual and I am confused.

I think often about romantic and sexual interactions with women, and I long for that tenderness, that affection and softness, for that sisterhood and connection that don’t come from the men in my life. I have entertained sexual fantasies, and learned to build strong, enduring friendships with just a handful of women. I have even attempted romantic relationships with women in the past.

The most significant attempt was when I fell deeply and vulnerably in love with a woman, about three years ago. It was an awkward situation, as we three, she, our shared male partner and power-dynamic-dominant, and I formed a polyamorous triad, that was terribly imbalanced. There was a great deal of jealousy and comparison… we both had intense relationships with him and our romance with each other was hampered by miscommunication, unmet expectations and insecurity on the part of all three involved.

I can say now that whatever her faults or mistakes, (or mine, or his, for that matter) though my heart was smitten, and I very much adored her, loved kissing her, holding her hand, cuddling and sleeping in her arms — sexually, I always felt like an awkward virgin. I think she interpreted this as rejection, and it became one of several eventually insurmountable issues that led her to calling it quits.

Today, I still long for that feminine heart-closeness, that easy affection. But when I think of trying again to build a relationship with a woman, my head spins and I panic. I still feel like an awkward, nearly fifty year old virgin. Maybe I always will. Though I am at ease with some simple things, like the romantic side of female to female connection, when my mind shifts toward the sexual, or the energy from a female love interest shifts toward the physical, I shut down. I feel the weight of expectations I might not be able to fulfill. I doubt myself.

Maybe I am never going to be fully comfortable being sexual with a woman. Maybe I’m just going to need some time to heal, and a safe place to explore without feeling like I’m a disappointment. Maybe my relationships with women are never going to be as intense as my relationships with men. I can guarantee that they will be different, because both my heart response, and my physical attraction are different, in so many ways. Am I just inexperienced? Am I bisexual in a romantic sense only? I don’t know. I do know that I find myself falling in love with the heart of another girl. I am both captivated, and afraid of disappointing her. This is hard, and I’m a lot more confused and insecure than I’d like to be.

Language Theory

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I recently had an interesting email-conversation, about the nature of the word “lover”. I propose that the word has, over time, been narrowed in scope, diluted (if you will), until it’s potency is lessened and it’s meaning altered. As an advocate for language (as well as for sex and love), I  am determined, in my sphere of vocabulary-influence, to re-expand words like “lover”, if possible.

As a polyamorous woman, I welcome into my life those men and women with whom I develop a deep, psychological, emotional and romantic kinship. My heart is uniquely designed to overflow with love and intense human connection.

People have limits, when it comes to time, energy and resources — some more than others. Humans lead busy lives, we juggle relationships, we reach via technology across great distances, and if we’re vulnerable, trusting and fortunate… we find love.

I fall in love easily. I fall deeply. I seek out those bonds that ignite passion, engage heart and mind, and feed me positive energy while pushing me to be vulnerable, share myself, and give good in return.

Some of my most intense romances are with men I consider lovers. Some of these though, have not been men with whom I’ve yet had in-person, physical sex, and maybe I’ll never have the opportunity to do so. Still, intense sexual ties can be forged, without the benefit of physical proximity.

You see, in spite of the modern usage of the word, “lover” I do not make fucking* a prerequisite to using the term. There may in theory be friends with whom I enjoy occasional low-intimacy, recreational sex, and yet don’t consider lovers. On the other hand, there are those with whom I share profoundly torrid, amorous sexual interactions. These often include bodily pleasure, and orgasms, all from a place of psychological propinquity and physical distance.

When recently tweeting about the subject, I was admonished against confusing physical and emotional intimacy. I get it. My point is, life is gloriously messy, and thanks to the powers of technology and the human psyche, my intimacy spills out of its neatly labeled and organized boxes.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

———

*"Fucking" too, is a word worth discussing. It is, in fact, a favorite, and I will soon devote an entire post to the reasons why.