The Gazelle (attempt #2)

I am not entering this poem into the contest. I have already entered one that adheres to contest guidelines. This is an original work by myself and I own all the rights to it. It is simply being posted here for people to read, enjoy, and comment on.

The Gazelle

My beloved, look over the mountaintop and see the graceful gazelle as she bounds over horizons distant and craggy defenses. She entreats daily and is silhouetted against the rising sun as she bleats, she sings, she runs for us my Love. She sings of plenty and honey and ripe figs ready for the picking on a glorious day. In her mouth, she carries the tender branch with its luscious fruit.

My beloved, witness the beauty of the dance as she traverses, with blessed and sure hooves, the challenging gourds. She races for us my Love. Her honed muscles ripple and her countenance is strong. Her innocent and warm affection is cast with merriment in each gleeful glance from her big, brown, beautiful eyes. Look at me my Love as I gallivant with her upon the craggy and challenging hillside.

I am running through the maze with quixotic abandon and my lamp is filled with oil. Come share the light of the lamp with me my Love. The plump red grapes have been pressed into wine and the groom’s table has been set with the finest linens. The invitation is heralded and I am in my honorable white wedding dress. The door is still open and we may fearlessly enter for the wedding feast.

We will mount up together on the wings of strong eagles as we wait upon the Lord of Love, my beloved. He has invited us to this consummation. We will wait upon Love my dear heart. We will call to the gazelle and we will run freely with her on the bountiful hillsides as we wait for the promised caress. I will kiss my beloved with passion and I will offer myself unreservedly to my Love. He waits, come quickly.

I will bring him my lamp full of oil. I will press out his plump red grapes for wine with my own feet. I will show him the gazelle with the tender vine and sumptuous fruit in its mouth. I will pick the honeycomb and pluck the fig for my beloved. I will lay him in my lap and as I tenderly caress his brow, I will feed him the finest and ripest handpicked strawberries and sapphire blueberries.

Just as it is with the gazelle’s beauty and the sweetness of the honeycombs and figs, my beloved will not want when I am near. Upon my breast will my beloved always suckle. I will sing songs of majesties gifted deliverances when I sing of and for my beloved. I will place my kiss of covenant upon his tender and beckoning lips. My beloved will not want when I am near.

I will lay in wait for the precious dove. I will lay traps and I will catch and I will offer up only the pure and unblemished to my Love. My Love will then know that I Love him as he is regaled with their soft, and tender, and guileless cooing. I will plant, water, trestle, prune and pick the finest roses for my beloved. I will cultivate them for their color and sweet fragrance. I will remove the thorns from the roses myself before I hand them to my beloved to enjoy.

Look, I see him. My precious one, my hoped for, my beloved is bounding over the hillside. I hear his sandals as they slap against the stone while he runs for me. He is adorned in pure white. He is every bit as graceful and desired as the gazelle. He leaps forward with strong and great strides. He is fixed on his treasure and it is me. He is pierced and his gaze pierces my soul with relished surrender.

Here I am my Love. Look over here and see the feast I have set for you with my Love. Here I am, over at daybreak my Love. Follow the gazelle that is silhouetted against the rising sun. Follow the scent of each honeycomb and fig. Come plant your seeds of Love upon my fertile and willing heart. My beloved, I am here.

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