February's Poems

masterpieced


Sacred Silence bleeds like ink
inching out from spattered blots
black across the paper of my mind
moving over every crevice, slowly
saturating thirsty wrinkled parchment
presenting a still, acquitted form
for you, waiting, for You
to augment,
asking inspiration.
in technicolor brilliance, words bloom
bursting onto pages of thought in rich lines
licking pain across my skin
stunning colors steal the black
breaking silence, Sacred Snap
soaking my mind with vibrant hues
holding insight paramount
pinned beneath what is your pen,
until the still, acquitted me
measures into what you see;
masterpieced by You.


© surrina booke 2012




Allocations


the freedom from his permission
to slide hands o'er his skin
to relish the textures ‘neath fingertip
press my lips to warm flesh
lose myself in simple sensation
of skin on skin with soft sigh
of bliss


the allowance from his sanction
to seek his kiss
to be brought to utter capitulation
from mere brush of lip ‘gainst lip
share his breath moments before mouths
meet and know just how wholly i
am his


the liberation from his assent
to be at his feet
wrap myself around his leg
secure and safe, my head upon his knee
leave myself there as i part
where i most want
to be


© surrina booke 2012




beseeching


oh, give me something to do for you
to ease you, to aid you
limited reach that i have
service that i bring to you
my self is all that i am
may i help in some small way?


what difference can i make?
what of this can i take?
to ease you, to aid you
in giving for your sake
outstretched hands, pleading heart
i’m helpless in this state


please, give me something to do for you
sum your burdens from great to few
gather all and steal away
to ease you, to aid you
lift millstone from your neck
i’d gladly bear the weight


but you are there and i am here
and idle hands must wait, i fear
to know the joy of work for you
and comfort, hold you near
troubles, yours i cannot share
wait still, unfolded heart


© surrina booke 2012



Vanilla Chains


Tonight I cry for him
Slow tears in staggered moments
That come with the futility of being idle
As I sit in the corner of my mundane cage
Helpless to help him
Seeing his struggles
Knowing his hurt
And unable to reach
Streaked cheeks press against the bars of my prison
Though I strain toward him
I gain no brush on fingertip
I am trapped
Incarcerated
By these vanilla chains and rails
This bondage I like not.


© surrina booke 2012



Keeper


lead me with your firmest grip
teach me with strong mind
bend me with your steadfast will
guide me as I grow
place each step along the path
with your solid word
but when you Know me, Keeper, mine,
Know me with Your Soul


© surrina booke 2012