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raven
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Nov 3, 2009 3:43 pm
Mood: thoughtful,
25 Views
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When your portrait casts its spell
And hypnotises me,
There are three telling images
So stark and clear to see.
The first to come is Raven,
Its beauty sharp and black,
With eyes of healing crystal heat
And feathers fine, drawn back.
The second is the Tulip,
Princess of Springtime bloom,
A crimson flash on paler face,
Your lips are blood to Moon.
The third is skin of Silk designed,
Which wraps your body warm,
A mirror to the heart inside
Where kindest thoughts are born.
Made from the stuff of Heaven,
No words can paint you fair,
I long to fly with you again,
My love with raven hair.
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letter to lover
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Oct 3, 2009 6:23 am
Mood: contemplative,
49 Views
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I saw you first, you saw me later.
My first words dug a hole, I fell into a crater.
You merely laughed but thought for the better.
Later that night I wrote this love letter.
Writing in kisses I was giving and stealing,
Each word was a moment describing a feeling.
Empty of thought and with nothing so planned
I folded the pages with gentlest of hand.
Written in kisses, sealed with this heart,
My letter to you was merely the start.
Not one day passes without cause to reflect
On repeating those verses that lovers select.
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constant summer
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Sep 2, 2009 5:40 am
Mood: cheerful,
84 Views
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As the first chill of Autumn thins the night air
He follows his dream to the girl with the gilded hair
And when he finds her he pauses for a while
Warmed by the constant Summer of her smile.
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blackberry & apple
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Sep 2, 2009 2:40 am
Mood: contemplative,
67 Views
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There we were, under London, on the Tube,
Redefining what it means to be rude.
A push & shove and a one-eyed glare
Left me wondering "does this grim entertainment really justify the fare?"
It was a journey of some interest however
As we ventured like worms for nearly forever.
In the middle of all the rattle & roll
I noticed a thing that just said it all.
On the bench opposite sat a young couple
One with a Blackberry, the other an Apple.
Onward at Paddington, overground and homeward now,
I held a dreamy image behind my nodding brow:
Pictures of home with familiar faces & places,
A quiet yearning for the simple graces...
To walk in the orchard behind the old chapel
Lured the scent of blackberry & apple.
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dewy grass
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Sep 2, 2009 1:44 am
Mood: beautiful,
63 Views
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On a night like that there was no sense of time
More a feeling of clarity and an absence of wine.
We had talked & dined, chimed & amused
And now came the time when “maybe” must choose.
To the fields we went, wrapped against the early shiver,
And settled to ponder by the bank of the river.
No words, no looks, never a chance to blush,
Just a few chirping bird and a tantalizing hush.
The water was waking in changing light,
The birth of morning from sleepy night.
The charms of daybreak were holding our gaze
Until an amusing event exposed Mother Nature's ways.
My companion giggled, then wriggled and said “My bum's got wet from the dew!”
I replied with intent “You could have my trousers but they're wet too!”
In for a penny, in for a pound,
We fully draped ourselves across the wet ground.
Then it happened, that sudden transition,
When friendship takes on a new position.
Hands were found, limbs loosely bound, like a jigsaw hip-to-hip,
In that scene of screaming hush we connected lip-to-lip.
Within the bounds of decency (and good taste!)
We explored unwrapped gifts from neck to waist
And with our hands at peace between our thighs,
Wondering thoughts accompanied pleasurable sighs.
In hazy delight with so much to discover,
We shared that instant when friend becomes lover.
So we lay at dawn on the warm dewy grass
And with a moment's kiss the morning had passed.
No question now of saying goodbye,
We walked back home in midday sky.
Dozing 'til dusk and out of the wet
Pleasantly anticipating the turn of sunset.
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