Sunday, February 20, 2011

Kisses - Beautiful Poetic Words from Adolfo...

LesbiaImage via Wikipedia

Kisses to Remember

Every kiss has its story--
No two of them being alike,
Or countable--
As any two flakes of snow
Has fallen to the ground
To gain new form
From the same creator

Oh, Catullus!
We have had our Lesbia,
Her body covered
With a thousand kisses
Diminished to one hundred
Only to give a thousand more,
And how sweet they were
When each kiss
Counted to infinity!
In giving light to darkness,
We challenged death and time!
Passion driven
Each kiss produced
The intended pleasure
Against the backdrop
Of ever-present pain.

To you, Strega!
Liquefying within
We responded
To our very beat
As though there was
No rhythm or rhyme
Than that of our own cadence—
No rhyme here
Except for the accidental
“Skin” and “chin”
And no specific meter,
Except for how many feet
One wants to count
Into any one line,
Of my broken verses.

But to you, alas, sweet Lesbia,
Every kiss is gone:
Ephemera has taken command
And my memory bank is empty.

A placid chiaroscuro gives life
To two women in an evening chat,
The flames from the fire lighten their faces;
Hardly three-years-old,
On my mother’s lap,
Rubbing my hand
Against the smooth skin
Under her chin,
My first memory:
She took my hand,
Brought it to her mouth,
And kissed it,

Oh, Pauline, auburn-hair,
Freckled-face teenager—
At the summer beach house,
She pulled me to her face
To trembling lips--
Still vibrating after so many years!
No friendship, thereafter,
Nor longed-for second kisses.
On playing in the water the next day,
She, sitting on top of my shoulders
Wrestling with our opponents,
Almost drowned me--
From sheer weight of her size.

Not even the ménage
Of Catullus with Lesbia and Sappho
With their
One thousand kisses and more
Can compare with the kiss
Of Rose Marie,
In the back seat of my friend’s car.
Having been rebuffed
On my first and only attempt,
I settled into the seat
In complete dejection--
A pro of rejection
Beyond compare.
Suddenly she turned and said,
“Only once will I kiss you,”
And proceeded without approval.
Heaven help me!
Not only was it the longest,
But the deepest!
I comprehended its value
Only after comparing it,
To the thousand and more kisses
Of Catullus with Sappho
And his sweetest Lesbia.

Different still was Marilyn’s kiss:
On leaving the office at Christmas,
She stood me against the wall
With a kiss rivaling that of Rose-Marie,
And more,
Much more!
Tremors shook my very being.
No liberation of an earthly soul,
Or the tremors felt by those in Dante’s heaven
Can compare to that kiss.
No! My being locked
As in a prison;
My bones
Shivered out of control.
Our last hug came later
At her summoning
In one encounter.
She said her last goodbye
With an unexpected
Gentle and light kiss.
She had cancer and never told me.

By myself in a compartment
In a train from Padova,
This young woman
With wispy auburn hair
Sat opposite me,
Her scattered belongings
Pointing to either a medical student
Or accidental tourist
From Midwest USA.
Politely, I asked;
She confirmed
My prediction of a tourist
When she mentioned Giotto,
Whose Chapel in Padua
Quickly became the catalyst.
She listened about my son’s reaction
To the figures in hell,
Wherein he began
To cry over the possibility
That his grandfather
Might soon be one of them.
And my denial of that impossibility
Did not diminish his unending tears.
At the train-stop,
I got up to say goodbye,
At which point she stood up,
Came face to face,
And kissed me ever so gently
And for such a long time
As to seem the sweetest of an eternity--
A kiss that has remained indelible
To this very day!
On returning home
I knew I had met the angel
That placed me
On the right road to paradise,
For the first time,
The role of true angels in our lives.

Of all the kisses
Remembered or otherwise,
The ones missed are just as memorable,
And their aura just as real.

Laverne, in the post office,
Forlorn as any woman,
But as full of desires,
Stood behind the window.
By an un-explained compulsion
I brought my face to hers
And stopped.
Her large lips remaining dry,
Sweetness all but gone--.
That I didn’t kiss her
Continues to
Haunt my memory.

As un-explainable
Was the aura of another kiss
That did not take place
And should have.
My neighbor, fresh from divorce,
Unexpectedly revealed her soul.
Her grief
Over the children’s fate
Being greater than
The sadness
Over broken relations
Dramatically culminated
Into an ethos of bewildering emotions.
Her face coming down towards me
Seeking relief
Was met half way
Over mistaken signals
Of cowardice or false circumspection.
That moment remains alive
With its aura as palpable
As if the kiss had taken place.

The aura of kisses disappear
When love and love-making
Become synonymous,
            The simple
Seals the phenomena
Of its aftermath,
While we fall asleep
With the sensation
That heaven has magically
Come down to earth,
And we are entering its paradise.

--Adolph Caso
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