china cherry blossoms
adorn a silken kimono
pulled away from the shoulders
dropped in a puddle around her waist
her back exposed
with a fierce dragon tattoo
in inks of ochre red and black
Mai Lin waits obediently
at her master's beck and call
an aphrodisiac in the night
for a bed partner
with an urgent appetite
that must be appeased

the power of her long raven hair
flowing over her *******
set within him a fire he must quench
that pale skin of milky white
and the full lips drenched in red
hastened his wish to kiss in tandem
his eagerness to couple together
was heightened by her soft angel touches
on his heat-infused bronze skin
beneath satin sheets of light gold

he scales the fortress of her body
and causes her china walls
to crumble and come tumbling down

In a wooded glen forest deep
Atlantia wears a gauzy gown
of diaphanous white
back and forth, to and fro
she flitters about spying upon
human beings who weep for lovers lost
in her hands she holds an urn of foxglove leaf
sends her healing powers in a silvery mist
to mend the grey and drab tatters
of a broken and torn human spirit
solemn now, though usually mischievous
she goes about her chore of charity
marries the light with the darkness of night

floating in frigid whirligigs
of French blue notes
aqua dreams underwater
floating in between
blue heaven shores
a black and blue hell
every hour of life recorded
playing those video scenes back
what if my misdirected plans
never did fall through?
would my spirit be looking down
at my body spiraling in liquid teardrops
and my end of life blueprints?

Living in the circle
of a Hawthorne tree root
Cassandra the white
sits in cradled silence
while a fairy-dust moon
perches glowing in a fay sky
aqua vapors
dotted by stippled stars
deep in thought
she touches gnarled limbs
shall she take
her will-o-the wisp wand
and lead another human child
on a very dotty journey
bespangled by
pixie-dusted lights
she laughs out loud
at the thought of her trickery
and the fay games of wooded sprites

mermaids singing
though not to me
only to august males
and soon their chants
mesmerize, enchant
until those naïve ears
become in tune
they are captured blind
no longer have any fight
ride the tide with hair
turned white
waves blown back
and caged in water
turned white and black
they forever rest
in the sweet breath
of spell-binding ocean nymphs
in the chains of seaweed
turned red and brown
on a cloudy day
they are awakened
by human voices calling out
sea sprites find themselves
drowning in the brine

Based on an excerpt of the poem The Love Song Of J. Alfred Prufrock  by T. S. Eliot

Vega the weaver patiently sits
on her enchanted workbench
of cobwebs and silvery beams
skillfully weaving her pictures
of dreams spun in azure blues
and pinpoint dots of stars
early Christmas gifts are made
for all her fairytale friends
the wooded sprites of forest glades
fairy princesses of glowing leaves
and elves of playful mayhem
though the Christmas holiday
is about seven months away
while a drunken crescent moon lay down
on his back sipping a flask of Planter's ***
on a lake of scattered moonbeams

clear streams of water
pour over cliffs
small isles of land
feels like I am showered
with love's healing streams
Wedgewood blue skies lay above
let me know I am alive
paint me a new picture
of what lies ahead
it's a new day
long gone are grey clouds
aching hurricanes of pain
no longer downhearted
peacock-blue peeks through
my future is all in aqua
and brilliant feathered hues
an aquamarine ocean waves me on
eddies whirling me around