Mind Caviar Poetry

Trevor Landers has been published widely in New Zealand and overseas and he was the founding editor of The Third Degree and the founding director of The Zealot Press. He lives in an idyllic spot in Eastbourne, New Zealand surrounded by verdant native bush which he says is "ideal for reflection, rumination and writing". His sensual work has previously been published in Mind Caviar.

Illustration by Claudio Parentela Visit his gallery online.



 
1. Wadestown on a Sunday Night
   ~ for Deb

   At the white house
      on Barnard Street
 caressing your buxomness
       my hands feel wonderment
the lusciousness in your eyes
      slushing in my veins, --intravenous lust--
 you have never been so coveted when we speak with arms and legs.

2. Lie spent and sticky-sweet

lie spent and sticky-sweet,
Full, your breasts, beyond youth's pert
enticements, full beyond the earnest nibble of thought
and tongue, full with the legacy
of midnight vigils, primitive comforts
worshipped the weary work
of womanhood measured
in the delicate striations
of your flesh,
through the perfect oceans
of lover, wife, mother you come

Claudio Parentela


3. artichokes and avocados

    We lumbered beneath
the slow grind of bones
like an artichoke and avocado in the same
  salad bowl
like uncommon logs,
surrendering ourselves
to the odor of winter;
damp pubis of woollem socks,
   and discarded knickers pungent with
 the slick of transient lovers
      & now
     the sheets of that passion
 billowing, bleached clean and unspent in this strong sunlight
    starched crisp and blue.



4. The gal in the exceedingly woolly mauve jumper

The gal with the inviting glint in her eye
     sauntered through the market nonchalantly,
            she had to know:
  clad only in an exceedingly woolly mauve jumper
     as if Michelangelo himself had sculptured perfection
           in the curvature of breast, and later I would confess
                my feminist sins to her; contritely.
          
     Such passing glimpses break the kernel of shyness and reserve   
that befitted immediate expressions of adoration
  least, that is all I saw. She  looked, edible, then
     at me like a fatale in a grainy Fellini, all statuesque and unspeakably gorgeous
             art incarnate in milky flesh and rueful looks
  as ensnarements to poets, philosophers and scholars of  aesthetics & movement
        a hostage to untamable animal lusts & the strictures of public decency!



5. Ruapehu Song

Be merry always,
    for thine own sake
        you said, as gentle tremors rippled Mt. Ruapehu
           the white glistening slopes quivered
      like hands on expectant, exposed flesh
          in a soft bosomed harbour
                    we were moored until morning
                   like a lost skier, in  snug, snow cave, kneedeep.



6. The House-sitting Lover

In the upstairs bedroom
    you undress in front
         of a mirror
   your creamy skin is like milk
       and I am the cat with the Cheshire smile
            lapping you,
                feeling you on my lips
  the midday shining upon your ample breasts
              just waiting for a lover's quickening pulse.
 

Copyright  ©  2004 Trevor Landers. All Rights Reserved. Do not copy or post.


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