John G Evans © 2017

I am fire fanning the flames of crucified flesh

            unduly forsaken –

I am the hot, red, hallowed blood that burns through

            guiltless veins –

I am the sacred night that burns for these

            mystic curves –

Ignited by a smile, a word of comfort, or

            a shape –

I am as I am, woven into the fabric and of a soul’s starry birthright, and

            universal midnight –

These fiery dreams, with hot, melded, steely hearts, and

flowered echoes –

Into the darkness I am lured by the sweetness

            of scent –

I am the poet who scribes these words of our nudity, and feel

            the burn –

Why, a focus on each other’s soul through a

            fleshly means?

In her voice lay life, or is it ruin as I burn like coals for a

            flaming heart –

I burn, and I yearn to burn, for a simple taste of

            love unearned –

I have given of my soul that thirsts for this erotic burn, flames that

            never die –

For is it death I cry, or for a sacred moment

            I lie –

In our cradle of

            Vexing flesh?

In touching the Sun of mystical hearts and burning souls

            brackish flesh –

Oh, this erotic burn!


This poem was rewritten and edited by John G Evans from his 2nd book entitled, I Am: The Tiny Mustard Seed, © 2017 by

2 thoughts on “Oh, This Erotic Burn

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