Pete's Poetry

Colored ink drawing of a fire hose leading to a firefighter confronting a blaze
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Calamity

Posted by Peter Liptak in Poems, Death and Chocolate, Love's Loss, Passion Poets

Sweat and soot
bead brow to brow
as the fire writhes
in deadly determination
matched only by your own
single-minded, stiff-necked, staying power
your unbending brawn
face to face with this fire.

Whether driven by
instinct or enthusiasm
commitment or some innate sense
of courage touched with
the push and pull,
the ebb and flow
of terror and tenacity
the thrust is on.

An opponent…
a partner
enraged, ablaze,
triggered to madness
fueled by fire and force
urge and appetite,
unquenched and unabated as
your ill-advised adversary’s interactions.

You douse flames
with the shower of wet
douse, drench, soak and souse.
Unsated
your drive ignited
by something…
some flame of hope,
some fire within.
Set alight, perhaps with a shred of lunacy
sparked by some twisted balance
of fear and urge
caught fire,
spurred on to deeds
propelled by hate and desire.

Ignited,
our hero
dares the deadly dance
with those hot glowing bodies
swaying through the seethe and surge,
through the fear and urge
of brilliant orange-red
billowing with the bite and choke
of the smoke, the odor,
the pitch black
of the place of their encounter
where, for a moment enraged, engorged
then extinguished.
Fed by force, yet
out in a flame
absent of fame
left with a fleeting feeling of frailty
in the aftermath of climax
through the surging smoke
heave and roll
now tempered only by the totality of destruction
like the lives left in ruin of the families lost.

What living beings lay in waste, what spirits saved?
Only sifting through the rubble will tell.

In the end, only havoc remains
leaving you an unwilling accessory
to the blaze
a fickle and faithless witness to the
catalyst and calamity.

heated and heartful
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Consensual Communication

Posted by Peter Liptak in Passion Poets, Love's Name, Poems

Consensual Communication PoetThe way your tongue wraps
around those words,
so sexy my soul salivates.
Here, at room’s rear,
I hang on every turn
of phrase, back-arching through
every bit of banter,
every burning urge… surging,
spurred auditorily,
in every curve of word,
every scent of sass,
seared with sweat…
Triggering the chill and churn
in bated-breathed anticipation
of your next
exquisite
utterance…

With every observation
cool and common,
or heated and heartful
erotic thoughts in waves awash
in notions
both naughty and natural
haunting and hypnotic.

Yeah, even that offhand assertion
remarkably said
like lyrics, lissome and lustful language
slowly ascending.

…

Caught in that moment of unfettered communication
I felt unfastened, exposed and ajar, laid bare,
and though you’ve probably never even glanced in my direction
as you felt those words flow, that jell of jargon jolting (like barazenly-public fornication)
you set my mind in motion.
Fraught by your clear command of that language,
that power and proficiency,
that MADNESS, MAYHEM, MAGIC AND MORE…
that left me exhausted, expressionless, in a heap on the floor…

I speak so, freely in your absence from our attentive audience
though still unbearable to be
so far from the kiss of your words
the significance of such sexy speech.
The consequence of those words
intertwined with my contemplations
lay heavy, like our self-imagined exhausted bodies,
gleaming as if honey golden
shaking and spent.

Later, I lay and linger on your
soft expressions,
the velvet of your terms touch
cogent and convincing…
consensually heard,
yet visceral in its trespass
on my salivating spirit.

…

Now in mind’s musing
I listen again in steamy secrecy
through relentless reflections
to that penetrating missive
shared from mounted mic
vocal and volatile
and oh, so sensual…
So I await that next
whoosh of bated breath,
of wetted lip expression,
of fire and fervor,
of devoted dissemination
doting on your ardent words wrapping me
in the fantasy of our eyes entwining.

book of love

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