Pieces: A Triumvirate

This goes out to anyone in the 21st century who still digs poetry. It's not much, but I hope you enjoy it all the same. 

-E. Sinclaire 

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“A Night With Keats” 

We’re sitting beneath the silver birch. 

The air is cool, like the coming of winter. 

His voice fills the nighttime sky,

And nightingales begin their melodious tune. 

The stars above us twinkle 

Like the light in his eyes. 

His words, his thoughts, his world

Are all mine.

There is wanting and waiting

As time passes by and the night grows cold.

Day awakens from its deep slumber,

And I close my book.

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“Invisible”

She walks down the endless hallway

Through a thick throng of people.

Surrounded by a colorless sea

Of walls and faces,

She makes her way

Both steadily and calmly by

As her eyes meets those of others

And their eyes meet hers in return. 

They look at her coldly,

Seeing nothing more than dark hair

And even darker skin.

And she looks back at them,

Seeing everything but kindness 

And warm welcome.

A silent battle rages on

Through fixed, condescending gazes.

But victory is given to the girl of color

Who just flat out refuses 

To fade away.

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“Love Affair”

Fate strikes at those least expecting it.

Sounds fill the airy space.

The music begins

Slowly and steadily. 

The humming guitar

Ignites a longing in two souls. 

A wave of its vibrations 

Makes its way through the toasty room. 

A small light flickers within 

And desire sparks with yearning. 

Hands find their partners.

A dance of flames ensues. 

Spicy to the lips,

Sweltering to the touch,

Charismatic in every moving sway.

Spinning and twirling, 

The beat of the drum strengthens attraction.

Boom, boom, boom

Goes the erratic heart without meter. 

Spirits intertwine through music and rhythm.

But a conscious mind

Discourages those willing to listen. 

The red hot love affair must come to an end--

Dim into nothing but darkness.

A battle of mind and being develops 

With every step.

Logic and reason attempt to cease

Temptation. 

But swirls of breathless passion

Soon consume their creators.

A body cannot control what isn’t his.