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Spirit Of A Horse God


Spirit Of A Horse God

He looked like a God with the Spirit of a Horse
as he rode toward me
the male
the beast
so alike
blending in the waves of heat
swirls of excitement
even as they stopped and parted
and he came to me
and as I hung from his lips
love’s willing suicide

I am no earth stunned angel
I have dreamt him in the nude
dancing with his body electric

He is no tame bedmate
he has roiled me in the bedclothes
and we have both roared in our wildness

I remember the way he tastes
when my tongue goes crazy in the dead of day
My hips sway and dance
when I watch him ride
they move like a poem
which male
which beast
one and same
in the rhythm of motion

January 31, 2002
Tressa Lee Breen

Garden Reborn


Garden Reborn

Opening the pouch
drawstrings of love pulled
digging deep
into the root of me
infinity
removing seeds
dormant kernels
desire
trust

Planting them down
old soil
new water
tears of life renewed

Removing weeds
old memories
dead things
destroying shadows
unblocking the light

Buds breaking thru
reaching for the sky
growing into life
soft
feathery
fragile things

Fertile soil and seedlings
creating
becoming

Petals
colors
reflections of love
all in the faces
of the flowers
alive
and living
in my old garden
reborn

January 31, 2002
Tressa Lee Breen

Garden Of Sorrows


Garden Of Sorrows

Again before the door of my heart
someone’s knocking
roses and their chocolate heart
for me in hand

Standing at a threshold to be crossed
do I open
my life
my love
my self
to another caller

I’ve forgotten
how to feel this way
I don’t remember
how to deal
with desire

So long
so empty
with only the memory
of picking
the poisonous flower
over
and over
A gardener’s fool

The most attractive buds
with the most deadly venoms
never bloom
as promised
only kill fertility
and turn to ash

The door of my heart
the gate to the garden of my soul
rusty hinged
broken locked
trapped solid
in dead soil

How to replant
how to regrow
desire
trust
roses
and a chocolate heart

January 31, 2002  
Tressa Lee Breen 

Outside In


Outside In

Drawing down
pulling into me
that which I am part of
but often forget

The universe in me
calls the universe with out me
I recapture outside me
that which swirls deep in the root of me

How often one seems to need
a picture
a validation
from that which is outside
to see what has always been
inside

January 30, 2002
Tressa Lee Breen

The Waking Dream


The Waking Dream

In that darkness so filled with loving she sat astride him, awash with fulfilling them.  That all consuming intensity over took her with shocking force at each encounter.  There was no getting used to one another.  It was always the unstoppable force meeting the immovable  object. 

The rose petals clung to them as they did to each other, rocking in those aftershocks.  How many moments, how many breaths, how many beads of sweat passed away in those waves went uncounted, unnoticed.  Only they remained, only they existed.

After a time, when they came back into their separate selves, she spoke, her tongue still swollen with the taste of his skin, “I still can’t believe you’re real.”

“How much more proof do you need?” he laughed, waving his hands in mock surprise before wrapping his around her torso, his fingers still making love to her back, her shoulders.

He flipped over suddenly, hand behind her head, “besides,” he said, fingers and eyes tracing her face, sliding down her neck, across her collarbone, south to rest upon her breast, “how do you know if either one of us is awake?”

January 30, 2002
Tressa Lee Breen