Alonia McCrary - The Altar of Four Posts and Pillows: A Love Song

Copyright 2012 by Alonia McCrary

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews with proper citation. For permission email permission@thealtaroffourpostsandpillows.com

Cover Art by Alonia McCrary

Copyright 2011 by Alonia McCrary

Cover Design by Brandon Rivard at

Ningnong23@yahoo.com

ISBN: 9781623093792

For Lovers Everywhere, Whether Opposite or Same

Forward

The Altar of Four Posts and Pillows: A Love Song is a dialogue between the Lover and its Beloved. Modeled after the Song of Songs, and borrowing its poetry for the prose poem titles, the erotic exchanges explore the numinous nature, the I and Thou, of sex.

Erotic splendor is in these pages for your spiritual enrichment. Find the freedom, the vitality of sexual connectedness in this volume of love songs for lovers. Whether between a man and a woman, a woman and a woman, or a man and a man, you will find sanctuary. Your choice of three love sets is sure to deepen your arousal for your beloved and your beloveds desire for you.

Contents

Between a Man and a Woman

Thou Has Ravished My Heart

I have listened to you with my eyes fixed on the ungloved wonder of your motion. I have heard brooks and oceans, still forests and twilights hush in your hands that I have loved with my gaze. Your hands I love that a harps chords lust for the touch of; that not even a summers breeze can compete with; that not quite the lithe bend of a grass blade, a flowers stem is as perfect.

Even your feet I love that no form carved is as delicately sculpted; that no cream whipped is as smooth or sweet; that no slipper fits if it is not glass.

All right, out with it: I want to feast on the morsels of your hands and feet to fill my finger-loving, toe-sucking hunger. Your many delights are sweet morsels.

O Love, for Delights

As soft and durable as love worn well, your shirts crumpled sleeve recedes up your arm like the tide going out, drawing me in its spell.

Fluid in their motion, your fingers tease with measured pauses that beckon me with intimations of pleasure-waves to come.

You casually roll the cuff of your sleeve backwards on itself, revealing tanned skin buffed like the sand that shimmers after the receding wave has its way with the shore in the sun and moonlight.

O your fingers unfurl away from your palm. O the slow sinuous turning of your wrist pulls me like an undertow. O you roll your cuff. You fold it up and over, up and over. O it heaves and hurls like the ocean returning to its deepest depth in which I dream I drown, and ripples of loveliness run through me O.

Let Us Go Forth into the Field

Let us run naked beneath the trees into a wild, untrammeled country singing our joy of freedom.

I will let you lead the way. My view from the rear will be lovely. Promise me you will stop often to pick up a stone, a stick, a daisy, an apple, a pine cone, a fern: I want to burn these images into my mind.

I can hardly wait to watch you shop the trees for leaves, and, like Eve, try them on for size. I will still love your bare flesh best.

Here is what I will do: I will fill your mouth with plush kissesdeep, soft, slow kisses that will leave you murmuring; and you will know love in lapping up my kisses.

There I Will Give Thee My Loves

Yes, to the still forest where spring has sung its song of fresh rain, where the morning sun will penetrate our pours, where we will shed our shoes and socks on the carpeted green floor, where we will leap naked and free as wind through trees and laugh like children.

You will chase me. You will make my heart race. You will catch me, and I, like the girl wanting her first kiss, will pick the flower from my hair to tease your lips. And you, like the boy wanting his first touch, will search me with trembling.

The buds will be bursting, their green tongues thirsting to drink the stream of light. The brook will be chanting its flow when we come together to know that which we are in the dream of all things good.

The Time of the Singing of the Birds Is Come

Away from the noise of the citys demands, away from the strictures of suburban rules, with your hand in mind I will take you along the path and into the thick green where there are no fences or signs warning of trespass. To the ravine I will take you, where you will find release from your civilized self.

Off with the buttons, buckle and belt. Naked your skin will shine in the warm sun. Naked your desire will glimmer in your eyes that meet mine, fire for fire.

I will lay you down and open you up, bones all a quiver and muscles drowsy. When the time of the singing of the birds is come we will rock and pulse and sigh: Now is the wild child of our imagination.

By the Rivers of Waters

I want to go where rocks long ago tumbled when the green mountain assembled its stairs, where the course of water runs freely as a horse unleashed from its pen.

I want you to take me there in wildness, and strip me stark as a leafless sky, and strip you bare as a boulder, and lay me down in a bed of water at the edge of a fall and in me arouse a cascade of thunderous pleasure.

I want to be as water falling, with no thought of holding back, with no muffle shushing my love song, the song I want to sing for you alone--my gift from to you, my love. For you I long to flow; I long to throw myself over the edge without fear and fall unbroken into your open arms.

Fair as the Morning, Clear as the Sun

If I could lay three gifts at your feet, first, I would scoop the shining eye of the night and place it as a crown upon your head, but as I cannot I will, instead, for your sparkling wisdom, give you a tiara made of crystal prisms.

Second, I would catch an oceans wave in my hand, the fluid curve of tidal tongue that sings the churning force of the earths passion to make you lace for a dress, but as I cannot I will, instead, for your liquid limbs, give you green bath beads to bathe in.

Third, I would cut out from the sky at dawn the red glassy morning star that symbolizes one of the many goddesses you are and set it in gold on a chain to hang as your hearts pendant, but as I cannot I will, instead, for your resplendence, give you a sacred circle of rose petals, red.

Let Him Kiss Me with the Kisses of His Mouth

I will accept your gifts and give you three of my own. First, if I could, I would give you a summers breeze for the heady lightness I feel when you see me, but as I cannot I will, instead, give you swirling puffs of fragrant smoke from incense burning to evoke the waft and turn you stir in my stomach with your gaze.

Second, if I could, I would give you the sound of the ocean, the pound of waves crashing, the allure of water splashing the shore for the song in my body when you love me, but as I cannot I will, instead, give you my naked self rising cleansed and scented from the rippling pool of the bath in which youve bathed me.

Third, if I could, I would give you a garden filled with flowers and fruit forever in fragrant bloom, but as I cannot, I will, instead, give you my sacred rose, jewel wheel, in the sanctuary of our bedroom.

Thy Plants Are an Orchard

In ancient days supplicants hung gold and silver amulets on green trees to enchant the goddess to bless them. Her fertile powers threatened the god of sterility, pestilence and war. Let us love, then, to make peace. Let us love then, to know joy. Let us love, then, to celebrate the mystery of life.

Let us join at the hip and heart to dance our undoing.

Moved by a veiled memory, O will you lift your skirt to invite my passion? O I will submit to the wonder of the feminine.

Queen of blood and blossom, your dark recess is the eternal spring of life and womb-funnel of mystery. Something deep within me I cannot name desires you. As if by ancient magic you cast your spell. I am delirious in your splendor. O in a shattering moment I am a god of thunderbolt and rain.