A marvel of perfection was Mishal
That Saturday I walked in stunned mirth
And felt my heart beat like a carnival,
A carnival upon the humid earth.

A marvel of desire was her love
As lance in hand we waved the waiting crowd.
And I surmised it was Brazil that wove
her harmonies and beatitudes aloud.

The writhing of the python, the Parrot's call,
The draping of her jungle on my frame.
The dripping of her moss upon my walls,
The ruffle of her jaguar's lusty mane,

All these are thing I always left unsaid.
Each time that Mishal came into my bed.
Wild and intense. Lovely! Emotion: smile

Miriam
Hi Miram.
Thanx for the feedback.
I wrote this poem about 25 years ago.
I have always been fascinated by the Amazon Jungle and its people.
Actually, I tend to imagine survival in that hot humid environment more difficult than in the artcic zone. If given a choice, the arctic zone would win by a very small margin.
But to be honest, I would much rather pass them both by.

BTW
What is your personal understanding of the poem?

Kind Regards
Radrook
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Hello, Radrook.
I've never been to the Amazon Jungle, and I cannot say I find the idea attractive either.
Anyway, in my perhaps too personal interpretation of the poem, what appears to be the description of a physical environment is more symbolic than anything. It is, to me, the symbolic representation of intense love and wild sex, beautifully described.
The Saturday in the poem, again in my opinion, could as well have been a Saturday in the North Pole -which would have surely melted down. Emotion: smile

Miriam
Thanks for the feedback Miriam

It is always interesting to see how the poem is being perceived.

Kind Regards
Radrook
RadrookThe ruffle of her jaguar's lusty mane,

Aren't lions the only big cats which have a mane?

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Good point! Thanks for pointing that out.