Taming The Wild Horse Poem by nadia abduljabbar

The wild horse
Is being tamed
By the riddle of love;
By the softest touch,
By the sweetest look
Of thine.

The happiest conquered,
Is me in moments,
When our hands
Are in touch.

Oh... I do not mind,
If I spend the rest
Of my life pressing
My weary forehead
Against thy tender one,
Resting my finger tips on
Thy stony ones,
And being melt
In thy presence.

Mock people darling
Mock … by speaking
To me in unheard
Words, and mind it not,
For I usually get hints.

Hush... love... hush,
I am overthrown
By thy captive silence,
Thy nut-colour gems
Are the weapon
That makes the defeated
Adores the defeater,
No wonder...
The bullet is an
Alluring laugh.

Kiss me... love... kiss,
Touch me and again touch,
Hug me and let me breathe not,
I do not mind being lost
In the sweetest hell
Of thy delicate skin.

Help me love... help,
For I love thee more than
Thou have ever wished
And I ask for nothing
Except thy love.


Vienna,1989

from (Women with Wings)

published in poemhunter in

4 May 2013