Magdalene’s Lover by Caroline Tiss

Magdalene’s Lover

Magdalene’s Lover Did he love his woman well?

Mary Magdalene weeping at the sinners well, Was she a woman or the archetype of a heathen’s love spell?

Tender is the heart of a woman, Soft to the touch is her skin like satin, Cinnamon and Sugar Sensations, Tangerines and Summer hazes Hearts Beating Like waves of summer rain against a tin roof

“Would you lie to me?” She asks you, with love in her eyes As she lies next to you in your bed and the rain pours ceaselessly,

And you look to her, Her eyes so sweet you could get high off the sensation, the aroma of her perfume lingers like a sweet starry haven

And you tell her “Never would I lie to you, my love.”

Will men ever know the height and depth of a woman’s love

To love a man is a fragile, volatile thing,

Filled with all the fire of mars, and the current of the waters rapids.

When real love comes knocking with her chalice of wine, Would you turn her away

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Am I Late? - poem by Caroline Tiss

Am I late? I enjoy you, I enjoy the waves which beckon me, I call them as they call to me, like you call to me. Late to the party too often lately, You tell me I have always been intoxicating, Perhaps consuming much like the swarming, It is a subtle fear, tears bellow. And you go on like the overture of a cello. I stop you to say, "we feel like lovers." I know that it's not really worth it to leap from anything deeper I have learned what I had to believe me, But we feel like lovers, And I know that it's selfish, I know I am headed straight for the pit, let them eat my bones to carry on the tune, You bright eyed alchemist, your magnificence echos to me in the chambers of memories of songs. We feel like Lovers. How can I hold back? What is pride if not my honor? The paint will fade anyway but give me a golden chance I just know that I would break it.

Let the Ocean Breathe by Caroline Tiss

Let the Ocean Breathe by Caroline Tiss To take in Temperence the oceans waves without letting it suffocate you is essential, The sea is green and it is blue and it is red and it is silver The sea is made of water and all those who can inhabit it's flow I delight in the wrapping of seaweed and the untouchable floor of the unknown, Let it Be.

The Price by Caroline Tiss

The Price by Caroline Tiss How is the taste? The poison on your lips so sweet, If the truth is subjective - which it is in the most divine sense, How can you thrash through the thicket of branches that is the heart of Sophia with wreck less hands and no consequences in your heart? The reasoning is because in your futile spirit there is no question whether or not you have the right to hurt, There is not a silver thread of questioning yourself as to why you run ramped with malice, Why should you not question? Why should you not ask where you have cut the vein or how much it cost? Do not lie to me. Has Saturn taught you nothing?

Caroline Tiss Writes

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