Visions Of The Erotically Sublime

When the youthful heart dies,
Our dreams separate from our soul,
We accept drudgery and regrets,
We no longer believe in love,
We think it is impossible to escape
Into the world of an exhilarating kiss.

And I’ve become a lonely vagabond,
Tramping my way through memories of desire,
Praying to goddesses in the darkness of night
To rekindle the romantic fire
Hidden in the ancient psyche
Before humanity became tamed
By duties and responsibilities
Stifling sensual adventure.

I’ll no longer subscribe to any idea
Suppressing the hope of exaltation,
I’ll no longer walk any grey concrete path
Forever avoiding verdant fields
Lush with blissful affections
And ripe fruit dripping with lust…

I’m only going to trust
The primitive man unburdened with beliefs,
Children playing joyously on summer streets,
Nymphs dancing beneath inebriating moonlight,
Singers inflamed with bowls of wine
And visions of the erotically sublime.

by Uriah Hamilton

Comments (5)

This is great. The vocabulary and wording make this poem make a strong impact. Steve
A wonderful write Uriah, it's such a shame our youth flied out the window, and leaves us with mental things, which are no longer physical. Dream on. Love Ernestine XXX
cool and slippery says the iceman melt water vapors make cloud banks fore the dawning 'Vison of the EROTICALLY SUBLIME' Thanks for the nice work. AB
This is lovely, Uriah...and I think we all stop here from time to time...and then...one day, when we least expect it...vavoom! Cupid's arrow.
Dear Uriah, There's a man who shares the vision espoused in this poem. His name is Hugh Hefner. Seriously, this is very well-done. A fine write. Life should be juicy not dry as twice baked bread! Best, Hugh