SWEET DAWN OF LOVE




As the Thorn Protects the Rose, My Pen Preservers Our Love

 

SWEET DAWN OF LOVE

How sweet--my Dearest Rose Petal--how sweet the Dawn of Love.

Love's Dawn rises the Celestial Moment my eyes touch yours.

Or I capture the scent of your perfume seducing the crisp ‘morn air.

Or silken shafts of golden sunlight careen off your cheeks and neck.

The Sweet Dawn of Love bears the succulent Fruit of Life, my Love.

It is the bouquet of fine wine awakening my parched palate.
.

I shudder at its might when lightening thunders through the heavens,

I surrender to its comfort as leaves when they curl  asleep at dusk.

Love awakens in its many Dawns, my Dearest.

It stirs to Life when our thoughts spear the heart of Love's memory.

Such as the first time our secret souls seduced the other,

Or in orgasmic reflecting pools where we vowed eternal bond to Dawn’s Love.

That bond was our pledge to forever offer our First Thought to Love,

So when we awake from somnolent journey, we eternally witness Love’s Birth.

What greater glory is there, my Loving One, than to awake to the Thought of Love?

There is no other, dare I say, than to supplicate to Love's  Magic.

How easy for those denied the Dawn of Love to rise anonymously,

Unaware the Face of Love is turned backwards in their hearts.

What if each of us, My Dearest, was to awaken with the Face of Love

Adoring every flaw-filled fragment of our other's total being?

Would not the world echo with song instead of a cacophonous clash of swords?

Would not the children’s laughs replace woeful, lonely cries?

To Love or not be Loved, is what one great poet did pose.

Is not the enigma’s answer to turn around the Face of Love within our sensual soul?

That Love exists hidden in our hearts, often scared and scarred,

Is no secret to humanity's quest to search for its source, its seed.

But if we all admitted Love’s Face was but a single memory,

An iconic image of that virginal moment when we instantly knew Love’s purity,

Understood its innocence, its titillation, its boundless celestial energy...
Love would Dawn.

And even if that Love Memory was but a flash, it flashed eternal.

Is there a gluttonous need to duplicate the Dawn of Love?

Do we not fool ourselves into great suffering by seeking more than our share?

If we have once felt the Dawn of Love's power or reveled in its hypnotic bliss,

Can such a feeling, such ignition, such magnetism be ever equally duplicated?

This Dawn of Love, my Dearest, is as precious as a newborn to its mother.

As fragile as the wings of a freshly hatched butterfly.

I cleave Love's Dawn to my mind’s eye so that when the sand of night shifts

And my eyes clutch for the Kiss of Dawn, I might birth your Love once more.

I prey I might see your Face of Love appear in fluttering shapes of silk,

Or savor the twinkling impishness of your eyes flirting against the puffy summer clouds' underbellies,

Or reach my fingertips to yours as you twirl in the glen hoping to touch you so very lightly,

And know, forever in my heart, the Dawn of Love awaits us all, everywhere.

Forever Yours in the Dawn of Love,

Cyrano!

Anderson-McKenzie



As the Thorn Protects the Rose, My Pen Preservers Our Love

© 2012, Cyrano! Anderson-McKenzie, C.A. McKenzie. All Cyrano! writings are original and created daily by the author. Anyone wishing to contribute funds to the maintenance and support of the Cyrano! blog should send their contributions to C.A. McKenzie, 53 East 7th St. #9, NY, NY 10003


A SKIP OF LOVE

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As the Thorn Protects the Rose, My Pen Preservers Our Love

 

A SKIP OF LOVE

Love skips.

Over our heads.

Under our feet.

In front of our eyes.

I love to watch Love skip.

How free and feathery,

How ebullient.

How enthralled.

Skip!  Skip!  Sliddity, Suuu!

I Love You!

Hear the voice of Love?

Skipping ‘ore your heart…

Kissing your beautiful nose and lips,

Dancing with your sensual souls.

Skip!  Skip!  Sliddity, Suuu!

I Love You!

I skip with Love, my Darling.

We skip to let you know,

Love is our treasure just for you,

Offered to no one else.

One day, my sweet rose,

We will hold hands and skip,

With Love at our side,

Laughing.  Singing.

Skip!  Skip!  Sliddity, Suuu!

I Love You!

Forever,

Cyrano!

Anderson-McKenzie


As the Thorn Protects the Rose, My Pen Preservers Our Love



© 2012, Cyrano! Anderson-McKenzie, C.A. McKenzie. All Cyrano! writings are original and created daily by the author. Anyone wishing to contribute funds to the maintenance and support of the Cyrano! blog should send their contributions to C.A. McKenzie, 53 East 7th St. #9, NY, NY 10003

LOVE'S SWEET SWEAT



As the Thorn Protects the Rose, My Pen Preservers Our Love


LOVE’S SWEET SWEAT

I run the hot sun,

The sweet sweat of Love beads my face.

I run to prove True Love exists,

An endless marathon.

Droplets hang haunting over my eyes,

Eager to blur True Love’s vision.

I shake, preserving clarity,

That Pure Love is the finish line.

I run at dawn,

At midday,

Evening.

And into the Celestial Night.

Night’s Love Sweat chills my Sensual Soul,

Yet I do not shudder.

I run the fright of night to prove my Love

Seeks the heart of no other.

Muscles tremble, cramps scream angry,

My ancient legs butter churned.

Still endeared, my heart pounds virile

Unblinded as Love’s Sweat rains.

How far the circuitous course of Love?

How many fallen along its endless path?

I run despite the odds,

The blazing heat.

I drink the Sweat of Love

My elixir.

Will you be at the Finish Line of True Love?

Will you Love me as I Love you when I cross?

UnLove’s sweat seeks to sour my thoughts,

To brine aching lungs with gasps of Doubt.

I cannot run the Race of Love unless I know

That Love’s Sweet Sweat is itself the race.

And as I taste a drop upon my tongue,

I know its sweetness.


Forever Yous In The Marathon of Love,
Cyrano!
Anderson-McKenzie




As the Thorn Protects the Rose, My Pen Preservers Our Love

 
© 2012, Cyrano! Anderson-McKenzie, C.A. McKenzie. All Cyrano! writings are original and created daily by the author. Anyone wishing to contribute funds to the maintenance and support of the Cyrano! blog should send their contributions to C.A. McKenzie, 53 East 7th St. #9, NY, NY 10003

LEAVES OF LOVE

 

LEAVES OF LOVE

We are the Leaves of Love.

Gestating buds.

Verdant sprouts erupting on a tiny twig,

Yearning Spring’s birthing kiss.

All winter we hibernate,

Deep in the anticipatory boughs,

Somnolently dreaming

Of Spring’s Sensuous dawn.

You at the twig’s north pole

I at the south to balance,

Listening to your freezing heart,

Beat its thirst to be Loved.

As Spring suckles our buds

I ripe with Passion,

To witness your luscious leaf spawn,

Unfurling hungry arms; arching, swollen veins.

Veins of Verdant Passion emboss your leaf,

Ribbing your arboreal beauty with regal spires.

Tributaries of a sensual stream,

Flowing to shapely tips to shade harsh light.

Summer’s sun rays caress your skin,

Rain washes it free of dust,

Butterflies dry the surface pure

While I adore your magnificent furl.

Autumn stalks the awakening air,

It’s chill seductively desiccating.

Until green morphs golden brown,

And brittle robs Love’s succulence of Nature’s blood.

Fear not the Seasonal vampire
 For I am your Leaf of Love.

To Love you through the End of Seasons,

Never dormant, awaiting each new birth.

Even when wild winds whip,

Tearing your brittle shape free of limb,

I break my vigilant stem bounds,

And clatter by your side.

Rolling, tumbling in crusted Love,

I fragment into Passion’s mulch,

A Leaf of Love disintegrated,

Awaiting Love’s Spring Resurrection.

Forever Yours In Leaves of Love,

Cyrano!

Anderson-McKenzie




As the Thorn Protects the Rose, My Pen Preservers Our Love

 

© 2012, Cyrano! Anderson-McKenzie, C.A. McKenzie. All Cyrano! writings are original and created daily by the author. Anyone wishing to contribute funds to the maintenance and support of the Cyrano! blog should send their contributions to C.A. McKenzie, 53 East 7th St. #9, NY, NY 10003

LOVING THE EYE OF THE STORM

LOVING THE EYE OF THE STORM

I sail the Ship of Love through the Sensual Storm…battling hurricanes of Compromise threatening my course. The ship’s decks groan. Waves of Fear and Doubt crash and pound, eager to knock me overboard.  The howling wind torments, screeching I am not loved by you with the same passion as I love you. 

Oh, my Love, I captain your Ship of Love with the undying determination of a father in search of a lost child.   I steer her prow into the fierce storm.  I navigate toward the storm's eye, believing that inside its calm and restful nucleus awaits an island of Peace and Passion, a womb within which its Placental Peace offers our Love a purity known only to the glaciers.

It is not just the island nested in the eye of the storm that drive me.  Upon each horizon is perched the Hope our Love will melt and mix from separate parts into a delicious and delicate whole.  Unified, I believe we will anchor our Love in the storm’s heart, safe from all intrusions of Doubt or Fear challenging our Love.

A great hole exists in each of our hearts when we are apart. We shy from admitting to its endless depth or that its abyss draws us down each day until gravity consumes all our dreams.  To survive we accept we are happy when we are sad…we are sated when we yearn…that we have when we have not.

Are such thoughts but a mere Compromise of Love?  Is this the Storm of Love?

Can Love be pickled into Compromise, brined like the cucumber by immoral resignation that a little Love—just a smidgen here and there, just a meager crumb--heals the hole in our Sensual Soul? 

Is Love’s compromise nothing more than a thousand soul scabs camouflaging endless wounds of unfaithful inconsideration by Love pretenders? 

Isn’t it the spears of these pretenders' unfaithful inconsiderations that stabs the corners of the heart and drains the last vestiges of passion from our Well of Love?

Love’s little Compromises curses humanity. Their delusions drives struggling Lovers to callous beliefs that True Love can exist by the snapping of fingers...or blinking of eyes...or spreading of legs...or that Love can be reduced to the simple act of reaching up into the stars and plucking a celestial diamond's pure and shiny beauty with thumb and forefinger, then kissing its luminescence in a futile attempt to ignite the dying embers of our battered, lonely hearts.

No. Love is earned not plucked.  It is not bought but sought.  There is no magic to it.  It is gains fortitude only by sailing through the Storms of Love.  Only the pressure of not compromising Love''s truths creates its value.

It survives and strengthens because we weather the storms, never expecting Love to leap into our arms.  Instead, we leap into its arms, offering ourselves unconditionally to Love's essence, ever searching for the center, for Womb of Love.

But I guard you, my Love, to not let your Sensuous Soul succumb to the warts of compromise.  

For every wound in your heart, my dearest, there is a rose petal swollen with Love’s salve to heal the scar, to erase the pain and anguish of past memories where the petals of your Love were crushed under the jackboot of false expectations or horrid inconsideration of your tenderness, your sweetness by Love pretenders.

Despite the Sensuous Storms that challenge my search for your Love, I soldier through the crushing, heaving tempestuous Seas of Love, knowing that as one storm passes and another brews, that if I were to compromise and flee for safe harbor and the warmth of the sun, that you might have drowned in wait, suffocated by the knowledge I yielded in the Battle for your Love.  That I turned my ship away.

In your heart, my most precious of all thoughts, let it be ever known that I sail through the Sensual Storms, navigating toward the Eye of Love, in search of that Edenesque resort where we, in full and naked embrace, shed all scars of our long and arduous journey, and as fresh babes just born, know solely the Innocence of Love, sans its compromises.

Know I always sail toward you, my dearest, in fearless quest.

Know there is no compromise to my Love for you.

No end to its journey.

Forever Yours,

Cyrano!

Anderson-McKenzie

As the Thorn Protects the Rose, My Pen Preserves Our Love

© 2012, Cyrano! Anderson-McKenzie, C.A. McKenzie. All Cyrano! writings are original and created daily by the author. Anyone wishing to contribute funds to the maintenance and support of the Cyrano! blog should send their contributions to C.A. McKenzie, 53 East 7th St. #9, NY, NY 10003

ROSE PETAL OF LOVE

ROSE PETALS OF LOVE

Fluttering, velvet tears of joy

Like crimson sails saluting

Your Beauty lying soft and sweet

Upon the morning bed of Love.

I am a rose petal of Love

Sliding 'cross the sky

Searching for your shoulder

Neck or lips to alight.

Never doubt my Rose of Love

I pluck the petals of Passion

And kiss each lovingly

Before scattering them to the wind.

I know somewhere you gaze

Up at the starry night,

And one night you will feel

A Petal of Love alight.

It will be me, my Love...

And you will know,

You are never alone...

Never...ever...

Forever yours in Rose Petals of Love...

Cyrano!

Anderson-McKenzie

As the Thorn Protects the Rose, My Pen Preserves Our Love

© 2012, Cyrano! Anderson-McKenzie, C.A. McKenzie. All Cyrano! writings are original and created daily by the author. Anyone wishing to contribute funds to the maintenance and support of the Cyrano! blog should send their contributions to C.A. McKenzie, 53 East 7th St. #9, NY, NY 10003

FEEDING LOVE

FEEDING LOVE

Love is seeing you in my dreams.

It grows as the sun climbs the sky.

Or when I see our children in your eyes.

Or listen to your heartbeat and match it to mine.

Love is making your soul travel.

To the soul of your Lover.

Oh, each day I seek your Love.

My thoughts feed on your beauty.

I am never hungry.

 

Cyrano!

Anderson-McKenzie

As the Thorn Protects the Rose, MyPen Preserves our Love

© 2012, Cyrano! Anderson-McKenzie, C.A. McKenzie. All Cyrano! writings are original and created daily by the author. Anyone wishing to contribute funds to the maintenance and support of the Cyrano! blog should send their contributions to C.A. McKenzie, 53 East 7th St. #9, NY, NY 10003