My poems too

 Before I decided to turn back to comic books (which was my first love) i was a film director. I made documentary films mainly, a few of which were shown on British TV and also in Japan. But before that my main outlet of creativity was poetry, and prose poems. Seeing some poetry here has inspired my to put up a few of mine too. Here are some 'prose poems' then, meaning prose with poetic qualities, rather than poetry with distinct rhymes or lines:


 The unveiling
Wraps of traditional clothing hiding sensous body. Many years of waiting, movements all a practise for this great unveiling in the sight of the handsome young man. Dream filled nights of romantic ignorance. You caress your thighs, feelings of incredible indulgence, outrageous nakedness. Some feeling of shame overcomes you, so that you partially cover up. Yet the feeling is too strong, irresistable after all those years. So now the layers are completely cast aside, all culture has been stripped off you - now what separates you from the beasts? You twist and moan, sigh in undulations, and in your dark eyes, a spark of liberation! 


Now you are gone
Sadness at the heart, so what is new about that? Point me at the core of your being, the new birth in the world, a spark unseen in any other light. You individual star, flickering out. I’m in darkness, now you are gone. 


Flowing
The flow of time has destroyed me, I have died in all my yesterdays, I will also die today, even in the moment. Who was it that started this poem? And who will finish it for me… 


The Unfolding
Sublime power at the heart of the movement. Not everyone agreed with your smile. How strange that you should continue anyhow, strong hearted confidence and such repose. You talk like the tingling of ivory, a violin seems to alter the sound of the surrounding air, your voice rises on the crest.  Tell me about me, you don’t even know you. Everything is within that closed left hand, slowly unfolding…He talks just like himself, but looks a little different; she says she loves herself, but don’t let that stop you.  After all, you open you eyes on a new morning and feel blessed, don’t you? All those words are from here, lingering and waiting. You look at it, the geography of desire, the search for meaning, holy sepulchre from invisible substance made; not found on this planet until you came along. Show to us the products of that unfolding. 


The tyranny of time
That summer’s gone, a magic smile uncaptured, bronzed skin just right. Touch me again tomorrow, or I’ll go crazy. Recovering takes time, of which I still have plenty. But now I am older I sense the ending of time approach like a wall coming in closer to my body, getting ready to end me. 


Scottish song
In song ye gathered us tae ye, we were gey few and no awfy guid. But we were gey strang inside oh us and followed ye tae the ends. Yer spirit turned on that devotion, and endless power. We felt like nuthin could haud us doon from daein whit we wanted tae dae, and being wha we wanted tae be. I felt alive then, more than I'd ever done.

 - that last one is partly in SCOTS, the language of Scotland (alongside Gaelic and modern English) Sorry if you can't understand it!