The Wait

THE WAIT

I.)
Wait for me!
Tarry, Mon Diamanté
For it’s a long journey-
Across jagged rocks of despair-
To the oasis of sweats.
I am on the roads,
At the junction of hearts.
I drive in haste
But love is a snail.
Wait while I come to thee.
II.)
You must wait- when I delay…
You cannot walk alone
Through depths of old fallows.
We must hold courage’s hand
And hasten through the jungles.
If we are together spent
At the pith of our essences,
There I shall seek dreams
In the vale between your luscious breasts
While I come to thee.
III.)
Wait underneath the shades.
My boon stretched shadows
Soak the tears from your other eye,
Thy soul hangs over those cliffs
I drive in haste, yet come late.
To quench desires of dampness-
Of careless moans
And senseless songs.
I shall hold thee through the gale
When I come to thee.
IV.)
Wait a bit more
For love is a snail.
I’m clearing the paths
Over shades of still streams,
So we match pace,
Sync rhythm and calm breathes;
Dance to strokes of broken harpsichords.
I implore thee to slow speed
For I drive in haste
And you must wait- though I come late.
V.)
Wait a season more
For I’ve driven over sandshales
Cuddling over purple sheets
And curled under pink blades.
I see your pink blade:
The scar of careless incisions,
As I swim over streams
And dive into warm fountains.
We shall find our harmony
When I eventually come to thee.

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©Poet Razon-Anny Justin,



8 thoughts on “The Wait” by Razon-Anny Justin (@PoetRazon)

  1. Beautifully penned@ Poetrazon.You are at your best no doubt about it.The waiting is significant for precious hearts that can decode the meaning of ‘longing, sharing and moment of cherishing…’

    1. Very elated by the encomiums. Thanks for reading through. Keep writing

  2. But love is a snail….
    Beautiful! Beautiful!! Beautiful!!! @poetrazon you are indeed a great poet.

    Keep writing.

  3. Thank you @ojestar for saying that. Buh i’m still perfecting my art on the ropes. We shall all get better. Thanks for reading.

  4. Waiting will do good to two love birds
    Through tis moment they shall grow
    Thou they stand the risk of fallen apart
    But if they’re never tired of waiting, tis snail-love of their’s will grow wings and soar with the birds……….. Well done

    1. I think I can understand you well.thank you

  5. Mon Diamante….. hmmmm….. another lovely piece there. Keep writing @poetrazon

    1. Yea, Mon Diamanté! My Diamond. The poem has suffered different phases of sleeping with different names. Mon Diamanté, Mon Amore, Mon Sucre. It’s just very french to be romanticized with names. Thanks for reading.

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