The language of love

Caramel skin.
Devour him with your eyes;
drink in the sight of him.
Swallow him whole.

(c) 2008 all rights reserved.

Kirsten Dewar

Words. Roll them on your tongue. Swirl them around your mouth. Breathe them in. Taste them: the rich vibrant golds and greens, the colours of jealousy and fealty; the yellows, friendship distilled, bottled sunshine; the seething, vengeful reds; passionate plum; the shy and retiring grays. Pause. Close your eyes. Study the pictures on the inside of your lids. Look at them closely. Do they whisper, and nudge and call out to be spoken? Consider their sound. Tease out each each syllable. Do the nerves grate? Can you feel the muscles in your back tense? Check your hands. Are they cold and clammy? Hot and sudoriferous? Are your palms open wide, or fisted balls? Would these words tease, tempt, tantalise, sending a frisson of what could only be sheer delight down the receiver’s spine? Or are they sharp, jagged, meant to hurt and harm? Are they royal orchid, or common garden variety? Were they nurtured in love, or deceit? Can they, should they live an existence independent of their speaker? Remember: words once spoken, cannot be recalled. Finally, having considered all these things, exhale: breath them into life. Speak. Give them voice.

(c) 2008 all rights reserved.

Kirsten Dewar

The inspiration for this poem was a seed pod I found while wondering around in Kirstenbosch Gardens last winter. To me it looked exactly like a little hedgehog - and the inspiration kind of flowed from there.

Farthing Wood

Quilled hirsuteness,
hard, spiky, brown.
Solitary, nocturnal, pin cushion
barbed, bristling ball at sudden sound.

Hedge-grown, cartilaginous rodent,
bashful, and bowed:
soft, silken centre,
Nature’s mohawk, avowed!

[c]2008, all rights reserved.