The Dancing Vapours of Furnaced Necessity, English poetry by M.W. Jones

She drifted through me,
Drafting coiled fumes of smoking expectancy
Imbued with a rich Celtic melancholy
Savouring her harp strung secrets

Pulsing with elevated desire
Embraced by a shimmering mystique
Poised, encapsulated by an assured sensuality
Blissfully soaking in pools of smiling anticipation

Tripping across a candyfloss ether
Gossamer laced, sliced with severity
We chime with synchronised gasps
Magically held in the hands of serendipity

Easing into a tingling fusion
Caressed by whispering dreams
That lift and curve in breathless awe
Shadowed by the dancing vapours of furnaced necessity

History swims into sublime neutrality
Words tend to trail off, struggling with dripping freedom
Half-constructed symbols of pastness
Liberated from their aching quest to matter

Our bodies raging in biological overdrive
Through the axis of rushing reciprocation
Feeling the beautiful madness of boundaries undressing
Reeling with essential sighs and primitive moans

Crafting shapes, arching with empathy
Bending to a white hot need
Forged from a shared vulnerability
Sensually engaged in a design of our own creation.

top of page