Your Beauty [poem]
Your beauty does not lie in the dubious gift
of symmetricalish facial features
for such faux perfection would not fit
your many-sided multi-facet
overarching wealth of assets
random drawn by their creator’s
palette-painted teaching
Neither is your beauty found in hourglass shapeness
for yours has signposts of silhouetted
soulful softness fitted to my hands
as if to that they blindly bold were born
like gloves on working hands well-worn
measured — tailored to perfection
static friction phlashing
Your beauty lies in raw unmuted power
as if some primal engine’s quivering blaze
changed my force from shrunk unsunken lines
to horse majestic crests of graceful waves
where nothing ever misbehaves
and instruments of siren sounds
withdraw my juices’ flow
Your beauty exaggerates the grace of ghostly
knives on water waiting by the gravestone’s
seemly daughter — drifting to the sky
while lustrous echoes falter wondrously
twilight glimmers shimmer endlessly
trilling the mountains venusly
and all because she sighs
© 2011, Alan Morrison
The Naked Troubadour 