Consumed by Fire
A moon so bright creates a lover’s light
Is I who wishes to quickly begin
By touching her unblemished naked skin
With my lips, won’t miss any part in sight
To taste her beauty with fervent delight
So crazed shan’t yield to any discipline
My vivid passion such a fire within
Shall continue burning throughout this night
From the window we feel the morning sun
I’m ivy, to her body tightly clung
Being repeatedly charged with arson
From the tallest yardarm she’ll have me hung
To her words I am not a bit craven
With a grin I stick out my hungry tongue
Never to Return
Waiting impatiently for her to come
She’s given promise to return my soul
In life I shall never again be numb
Without it my life is an empty hole
She had an intangible she could give
A wanton pleasure that I could behold
Only to find for me it’s addictive
There is much truth in what I had been told
Once given there will be no turning back
After passing through the turnstile of lust
Soon to discover there’s something you lack
The sense of being has now turned to dust
Obvious now she will never return
And I who for eternity will burn
Alma and Oskar, Oskar Kokoschka (1913) Alma and Oskar
There is not a tree with forbidden fruit,
Nor compelling compact we have to sign.
There will be no Satyr playing a flute,
Nor a reason for having to repine.
Just you and I in this our paradise.
Freely bending to the other’s desire,
Without thought of making a sacrifice,
While quenching a burning internal fire.
Stripped of all our frail human modesty,
We explore each other with boundless lust.
We bind together ever so brashly.
Such pleasure without being larcenist.
Our thirst for each other being so vast,
We ask these wondrous feelings always last.
Ashes, Edvard Munch (1894) Ashes
They are consumed by erotic passion
Tearing at the other like starved lions
Creating hotness greater than the sun
Becoming searing flames neither slackens
Like bellows desperately pumping air
Lungs enlarged to a point of explosion
Salty steam rising from the naked pair
Of their fleshy mass there is no fission
There’s no glow from their smoldering ashes
Not a single drop of desire remains
The needing feelings of love now ceases
Yet in the lovers’ hearts are darkened stains
Like others, they’re victims of nature’s game
Which does not provide for love eternal
Only a new generation to claim
Been true since Eve gave Adam the apple
Heart of Snow, Edward Robert Hughes (1907) Heart of Snow
Born to life as human from snow and ice
Of a mountain built on white purity
Never yielding to any mortal vice
That grows rampantly in any city
Here you are to be ever protected
You may as well been formed in simple brass
For how can your feelings be projected
When the high heat of desire comes to pass
Dire is your life for love you cannot feel
Your heart would rapidly turn to water
The moment you find your love is real
To this problem is there any answer
Created by man to place on the shelf
But in reality hurting them-self
Still Life with Apples, Paul Cezanne (c.1890) Allegory of the Apple
Most perfect of her kind at the table
Beauty of such proportions I do mull
Resisting a bite unsure if able
My ravenous heartbeat there is no lull
Do dare to hold her softly in my hands
To move her towards my hungering lips
For such a sweet delight there were no plans
Reality of this must come to grips
All control have I admittedly lost
Knowing my thoughts are surely to anger
Must consume this beauty at any cost
Burning desire can no longer deter
Yes the sweet flawless apple I did eat
There will be penance for this tasteful treat
Sappho and Phaon, David Jacques-Louis (1809) Sappho and Phaon
Sappho, such control of poetic words,
But thy heart runs unrestrained as a stag.
Surely did not follow songs of love birds
Phaon with great ease thy heart did he snag
Were thou charmed by Aphrodite’s gift to him?
A competitor of her Adonis.
Soon causing thou to feel more than a whim,
Phaon so willing to accept your muss.
Thou and he created a carnal fire.
He expressed an insatiable desire.
Of thy loving touch he early did tire.
Abandoned, alone now to play thy lyre.
Thy asking the fates this love to remove,
If not let thee drown. The fates did behoove.