oak and steel

who knew eyes came in such chocolate brown? you
didn’t know their depth would feed such want --
his kisses promised sweet red wine drizzled in time to
russet regrets; routinely he would weep, yet still take
from the tree where humanity first began her
decline; no hand to cover what the serpent slid by
with a gentle rustle in the
springtime grass, to twine ‘round the stem
raised in illiterate toast where the words to say
were never said, where the woman
becomes child again; well, what did you
expect? when little hope is shared, what have
you to left to give? hope never waited
for two into one; hope, instead, was an
ill-bred trickster who promised eternity
in return for arms of oak
to hold the world at bay, and
even when his eyes turned to steel
you cast tears aside to
welcome him home to the only place that let him be
the man he swore he would be every time you kissed!
think, girl, think! of all the nights you spent by
the closed door with drawn shades; you were a ghost
waiting, waiting, ever waiting to be kissed by this empty man.
My first attempt at a golden shovel poem. A very interesting form, indeed! In a nutshell, the poet chooses a line or lines from a poem and uses each word as an end word in the new poem. The end words must be kept in order, and the original poet is credited.  I selected the following three lines from stanza 2 in this incredible poem Melody Chen wrote, Dionysus:
“i want to take her by the stem, say
woman, you have waited an eternity
oak and steel, to be kissed by a man”

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