I Follow Her Into The Shadow

By Donny Barilla

Donny Barilla writes avidly and reinvents his poems with renewed enthusiasm. Topics such as the transitions of death, intimacy, sexuality, mythology and nature find their way upon his page with the invention, intense imagery, metaphoric thought and the enigmatic relation of man and nature which coat the background of his poems and flood the pages from his creative palate. From poem to poem, each image and blending sounds as the words fluidly possess the reader, one finds oneself in a sweet and delectable arena of literature, an open captive wade into the ocean of turning pages. With the demanding pulse of heavy language, these poems embody the spirit of trembling phrases and beautiful metaphors.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adelaide Books Publishers
• Release date: Mar 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781952570094

Donny Barilla

Donny Barilla, living in the beautiful state of Pennsylvania, devotes his evenings and nights to writing poetry. He published over seventy poems in magazines and literary journals. He has twenty-three books in libraries, both academic and public. He hosts readings and signings on a frequent basis. Coming in first place of the Adelaide Literary Award for poetry, two thousand and eighteen, many of his pursuits have come in the direction of charities for children in need. Donny released his first two books, ‘Treasures’ and ‘Dance Upon the Forest Floor.’ Numerous more rest on the horizon as Donny writes daily constantly trying to improve upon his craft. With nature standing as his backdrop for his poems, Donny pulls on the heartstrings of his messages and stays as a disciplined artist.

Book preview

Soft, silent, the paints stain upon the crest of your lips.

Watching, your nimble tongue slips across this majestic edge.

Hundreds of dashing images flood the waters

which consume across your ginger cheeks

and swoons of your throat.

I speak of visions of the pounding silent scream,

this tightening neck and awakening groin.

Flared, this crimson wine and madenning blood

brings me to the crush of the fruit and the flicker of the

strand of hair which clings to curled smiles and edges.

~

I fall upon your smoothest of doughs.

I fall to the freshness of every cake and swim of the torte.

I cling to you in the pressures of this

tremouring Autumn creams and pies.

GRAPES

Your hands cupped me as a goblet, juices rise across the

brim. We drank of each touch. Sweetly, the grapes spoke of

our interweaving vines as the wrap of you arms across me

and the wrap of mine across yours.

The softness of the eggshell sky, the cloud faded

and I shook to the tremble of the clever sun which

danced through to jade fields where we lay.

That evening, I came to you as evening always does.

I rest upon the pinks and powders which held the beads

of our postured breasts and hook of the fingers, thumbs.

We tasted the wine of our burning mouths and

opened the last glance at the sink of the peach sky.

Against the threads of the flattened grasses, I took to

the blooming seeds floundering across the meadow

and soothed the weather of your weary skin.

DREAM UNTIL THE GASH OF MORNING

I look to the shape, smoothness of your skin.

I wade through the wet throaty river upon pebbles and

soot, tenderly I reach for the angle of your spine.

Pausing, I glance to the slow pulse of the moon, swelled in

bounty. I smell you as the fabrics of the dusty sky surpass me.

each fiber of your shirt and tangle of your hair

Greets me in the aromas of this slippery night.

As you walk to the river’s edge,m I follow

then lose you in the black swimming sauces of

the spread of this weeping forest. The canopied

tree tops blockade the breast of the moon.

I hear the groan of the gnarled sky.

I follow the endless weave of the trail and fade of the

path. Soon, I fade in the gash of morning light.

SUMMERS POLARITY

The fullness, bloated swell of the dome of the sky spilled it’s

nectars, apricot and patterned grays which flooded in a dash.

I spoke to the slap of the rain which

softened my neck and chest.

I asked the dews and trembling drops to fasten

the face of the passing clouds and ask them

to sweeten upon my lips and tongue.

Rains flooded the meadow as shears of the slicing wind

groomed and flaunted the richness of the soil.

Swift, I swallowed juices which groove their way upon the

grasses all tangled in ponds and mumbling verbs of sobriety.

A few hours later, I walk to the drying dusty road.

The thicket spread open and burst forth in sweet, open

pods. Thick orange filled the trim of the sky.

DRUNK IN THE ARMS OF SUMMER

Upon the pooled wines which gather in my jaw

and soak with the muscles of my tongue,

I thought of your warm flesh which stored the burials

of bloods and how they rose to the surface and drew

moisture from each tense pour of my

thighs and riveting waist.

The glen, thicket, and spreads of the grotto mumbled

verbs of a passing wind which loosened your blouse.

I groomed in the scent of your powders and spices

of your aromas as the clovers danced

to the surmounting breath.

Diligent, I buried in the drunken grasp of each

breads which rise to meet my mouth.

Your skirt floundered upon the grassy moist earth.

Soils rose as incense and wrapped across and meandered

through the whipping wind as I lay. I smell the fragrance

of your hair taken in the fullness of the wind.

Well in the grasp of evening, I place my lips upon your

lips. I place