.
The scrape of stone on stone,
a shaft of light breaks through,
with a rush of air, fresh and new,
the chambers soul is bared.

Fractals dance enticingly
on millennia old rock,
catching shards of mica sparkles,
soft prisms copulate in the air.

The mist clears,
graceful in its retreat,
and reveals a scene from
another place, another world.
Another reality.....


© Pagan Paul (05/02/17)

.
The Virginal one is a Maiden fair,
a girl adorned with long blonde hair.
Bold and brash, yet cautious and shy,
her dreams lift up and start to fly.

Raven hair falls in delicate tresses,
on the Mother of children Nature blesses.
Calm and firm, yet open and sure,
her dreams fulfilled are played out pure.

Cold and damp attack the bones,
trying to agitate the black haired Crone.
Old and steady, yet clever and wise,
her dreams forever light up the skies.

Walking through woods, warm and shady,
barefoot, confident, the Forest Lady.
She has her dreams and always will,
until the day her heart stands still.

© Pagan Paul (01/02/17)

.
It drove the poet round the bend,
his limericks just wouldn't end.
They'd go well for a time,
but come the fourth line....


It drove the poet round the bend,
his limericks just wouldn't end.
They had the precision of a clock,
but then they would suddenly stop...


It drove the poet round the bend,
his limericks just wouldn't end.
It really wasn't his fault,
they just came to a halt...


...**** it!


© Pagan Paul (01/02/17)