A dream of silver coins and gossamer
of frankincense and sacred myrrh
tugging, gently tugging at the coverlet
the draperies drawn,
the candles lit.
Winter's wizened face and beard sent packing
by the blazing willow log
a'crackling, gently crackling in the fireplace
the shivered wind
leads on apace
These dreams to warm us lingering like a balm,
and cider mulled with cardamom
bubbling, gently bubbling in a bowl
blots out the wind
and shuns the cold.
Beads
And I will weave
and string glass beads across your skin.
I will pick them out - azure and turquoise
like the beach at noon
when the sand makes love to the waves.
I will decorate you in ivory and ivy
bands to kiss
your wrists and ankles and
I will teach your tongue wicked fortunes -
stories that only night can
follow and languages
man is too afraid to speak.
You will wear me
silk and water -
the warm rush of magic,
a noise that rumbles fiercely
and grows restless
in the dark.
Bionote
Brendan Sullivan is a lifelong beach bum who has turned from acting to poetry, as he finds it a more remarkable and rewarding muse. He also enjoys surfing, sailing and diving. His work has been published at Wordsmiths, The Missing Slate, Every Writer's Resource, Gutter Eloquence, A Sharp Piece of Awesome, After Tournier, Bareback Magazine and Bare Hands.
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