The RetroLounge Daily Poem Thread (Wed 10/4/06)

[RetroLounge]

Affection for Kissing

Winter cold on the breath, tongue of mint,
mouth of an angel when I kissed him,
soft as cotton, white as wings, pure as heaven.
Kissing him with my hands in his hair,
snow falling outside the car, and he traced
my clavicle with the bare edges of his fingers,
made me gasp out loud.

The first boy I ever kissed threw my Grade Twelve
English Literature book on the ground when I said,
I like you, and took me up (awkwardly), held me close,
kissed me with a forever unequaled passion,
a forever unequaled desire, kissed me with everything
he had ever been and kissed with everything
he believed he could be and then backed away
tripping slightly on my English Lit. book,
his hands at his sides and said, I like you too.

Kissing outside the Rechall, a bar in Yellowknife,
with the aurora borealis flickering above our heads,
waves of purple, red and green dancing inside
our mouths, flirting over our tongues, thin layers
of frost escaping with every shallow breath.

Snow kissing after making angels with legs and arms spread,
and ice particles everywhere and toques askew,
and he was over me suddenly, smiling, dimpled cheeks,
mirth in his eyes and Christmas carols being sung
a few blocks north, and he tasted like a candy cane.

The last time I was kissing — it was Salah in Seattle,
beautiful Moroccan with tight, wound-up, black curls,
and before I left Washington he gave me a wooden turtle
with a compass in its shell, Come back and find me,
he said and I kissed him one last time. He still had apple
tea lingering on his lips and his eyes were sad
when I pulled away from him, but his mouth
looked full, round and pink; it looked satisfied.

_____________________________

Kissing is good; it should be a national, Canadian,
past-time right along with hockey. It should be
to Canadians what our long underwear is, completely
necessary. We should greet one another with kisses;
we should reach our hands around to the back of the neck
and kiss with mouths parted and pink tongues
glistening from dark chocolate cherry cordials.

Canadians should kiss in canoes; Canadians should kiss
in canoes while paddling backwards; Canadians should kiss
in canoes while paddling backwards through a rain storm.
Canadians should kiss in canoes while paddling backwards
through a rain storm, learning Dogrib, with their noses cold,
fingers frozen, and their life jackets forgotten on shore.
That way they will kiss with worry. That way they will kiss
with tight, pursed lips, taste of autumn rain against
their mouths, and Dogrib whistling through their breath.
Then when we, Canadians, pull away from one another,
we could say, Thank you, in Dogrib. We could say, Mahsi cho.

Canadian men kiss with gentleness, with fervor,
they kiss with abandon, with soft mouths,
and hard hands, calluses on their palms
running over the soft, warm flesh of your back,
and they push you against the wall roughly,
smelling of Labatts Blue and tiger prawns
dipped in garlic and butter, which were on sale
for twenty cents a piece or a platter for five bucks.

Canadians never kiss on Thanksgiving for they are
too full, too tired, too stretched to the limit, and theyve
been watching football all afternoon with various
obnoxiously loud Canadian children bursting through
at the worst possible moments, and Canadian women
dont want to kiss on Thanksgiving either because the men
havent been doing anything all day, but complaining
about children that dont belong to them, and then act
as if the mere act of carving a Turkey warrants
a gold star or brass medal. But, later when they are at home
and curled against one another against the cold, Canadian
winter the men will spoon the women kissing them
with their entire bodies, with limbs and love.

Heather Simeney MacLeod

*******************



"I used to live in the Arctic," writes Heather Simeney MacLeod, "a place where my Indian blood found room to live, elliptical it moved within me, solid as snow." A member of the Métis Nation Northwest Territories, MacLeod is a poet and playwright who came to live in the Thompson-Nicola Valley during the writing and publication of The Burden of Snow, a poetry collection in which she traces "bloodlines, trap lines and ancestral migrations from Ireland, Scotland and Russia to the British Columbia interior." While living in Victoria, she published a collection of poetry, my flesh the sound of rain (1998).

MacLeod spent some of her teenage years in Carcross, "world's smallest desert, once a glacial lake," and recalls her varied past in a prose poem called 'Ask Me Anything: Yellowknife'. "I know how to use an ulu; I've seen an Inukshuk in the midnight sun on the Barrenlands. Ask me anything. I have eaten whitefish, pike and char; I've served muskox burgers at the Wildcat Café. I worked the dishpit before the dishwasher went in and wore raingear and rubber boots and watched through the flapping of the screen door as Dave wind-surfed over Back Bay. I fed Tracy's dog, Bug, scraps from plates, drank coffee with Baileys through my shift and went back in the middle of the night, after the bars closed, for wine, beer, a snack. Ask me anything. I swam nude in Long and Great Slave lakes; had picnics in the cemetery. Ask me anything. I remember The Rec Hall, the worn path between it and The Range; I remember Saturday afternoon jams with Mark Bogan singing Wild Thing (Wild meat, you make a great treat; muskox, I gotta get lots)..."

Her other books include My Flesh the Sound of Rain, Shapes of Orion and The North Woods

*******************

RL

If you have a request for a certain Poet, post their name in the thread and I will find a poem by them and post it...

if you want to see some of my poetry, see the blog at:
http://www.myspace.com/retropaul

[Callalily]

1. What a lovely poem RL

and what a lovely way to describe kissing.

held me close,
kissed me with a forever unequaled passion,
a forever unequaled desire, kissed me with everything
he had ever been and kissed with everything
he believed he could be

Yes, that first kiss is the most memorable.

:hi: :hug:

[RetroLounge]

7. Yes, it is...

:hi:

RL

[lizziegrace]

2. RL

I like her work.

:hug:

"Winter cold on the breath, tongue of mint,
mouth of an angel when I kissed him,
soft as cotton, white as wings, pure as heaven.
Kissing him with my hands in his hair,

Sigh.

[wildhorses]

3. never thought I could look forward to winter but,

DANG...I am NOW!!:wow:

[swimboy]

4. I sure am glad I came here today.

:hug:

Great images, great words.

Thanks, Retro. :loveya:

[CaliforniaPeggy]

5. My dear RetroLounge!

I think you've become my muse........

I'm finding poems coming up from inside me now........

And I feel another one, due to this marvelous one on kissing........

This is absolutely breathtaking!

I can never have enough kisses.........just ask my poor husband, as I chase him around for yet another one!

Thank you, sweetie........:hug:

[RetroLounge]

6. Glad to spark your creativity, my dear CP

:hug:

RL