Let the poetry...
Write itself....
As the ripe new moon
strums the swaying
silhouettes of the night.

Let the poetry...
Write herself...
With the vast
expanse of obsidian sky.
Pocked subtly with the shy
murmurs of the stars...
Offering solace and peaceful respite.

Let the poetry...*
Write of you...
As the splendour...
Envelopes each unspoken letter.
Embedding words of warmth,
that seize my heart
in a state of enamour...
Before taking its majestic flight.

Amongst folded hills
The forest ripples
Dripping
Down into the valleys,
Then
Clambers back up
Towards heaven

A Saxon Lord, a hunter
A top his white and noble steed
Kinsmen close behind him
Hounds baying at the Stag
They pursue
Charges through the sunlight
Dappled green
Painted on his brow

Concentrated on his quest
Divided from his clan
Appearing in his vision
A group of maidens
Dancing
In a glade of sheer luminance

In their midst, one
Exquisite in her artistry
Flowers embroidered in
Golden hair
Shimmering in Elfin melodies
Entrancing in its harmony

He stood
Drowning in her beauty

Bewitched

Knowing

Never again could he be
Without
His Fairy Queen*

(C) Pixievic 2016

We are all unique
I'm surprised by the number of people who want to conform

(C) Pixievic 2016

Cling to me like ivy
Entrap me with your vines
Wrap tendrils around me
Weave your words with mine

Cling to me like ivy
Linger in my boughs
My branches will embrace you
My senses to arouse

Cling to me like ivy
Meander through my mind
Fascination everlasting
Forever souls entwined

Cling to me like ivy
Together we can grow
Sublime in our purpose
Majestic in the hedgerow

(C) Pixievic 2016