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Joel M Frye Jul 26
Naked, moaning softly, bathed in sweat,
jaw agape and panting. Such a sight;
a perfect beauty I'll not soon forget.

Charming evening's prelude to a night
where passion grinds your voice to feral growl,
jaw agape and panting.  Such a sight.

The gentle purring now belies the howl
from shattering release that takes you whole
where passion grinds your voice to feral growl.

Your strong yet silken legs enfold my soul,
as you recover life from petite mort,
from shattering release that takes you whole.

No need to contemplate what's still in store,
I'll hold this waking dream until we sleep
as you recover life from petite mort.

Tomorrow's work and worries all will keep,
I'll hold this waking dream until I sleep.
Naked, moaning softly, bathed in sweat,
a perfect beauty I'll not soon forget.
a terzanelle pour votre plaisir.
Amanda May 16
Senses enchanted
You make dreams reality
Inspiring friction
Bow chicks wow wow
Coastline yellow dawn,
Overflowing fountain
Untrimmed garden,
Left to Decay
Rot in the sun

Bluebonnet field,
Honey suckle sweet breeze
Left to flourish,
Their petals reach to the sky

Light step, on the untreded
Birdbath with feathers flashing about it
Dawning spring, swallowing following
Enchanted breeze, dew on the leaves

Break the cycle of the illusion
Never ending we march along
One step higher another step closer
At the end, Door Closer locksmith
I have to see beyond this
hymn to Apollo
by Michael R. Burch

something of sunshine attracted my i
as it lazed on the afternoon sky,
golden, splashed on the easel of god;
what, i thought,
could this elfin stuff be,
to, phantomlike, flit
through tall trees
on fall days, such as these?

and the breeze
whispered a dirge
to the vanishing light;
enchoired with the evening, it sang;
its voice enchantedly rang
chanting “Night!” . . .

till all the bright light
retired,
expired.

This poem appeared in my high school literary journal, the Lantern, so it was written by age 18, but probably around age 16 or 17. That was my "cummings" period. Keywords/Tags: sun, god, sunshine, Apollo, elfin, phantom, ghostly, magical, enchanted, bright, light, brilliant, sky, golden
Circe
by Michael R. Burch

She spoke
and her words
were like a ringing echo dying
or like smoke
rising and drifting
while the earth below is spinning.
She awoke
with a cry
from a dream that had no ending,
without hope
or strength to rise,
into hopelessness descending.
And an ache
in her heart
toward that dream, retreating,
left a wake
of small waves
in circles never completing.

Originally published by Romantics Quarterly

Keywords/Tags: Circe, enigma, enigmatic, enchantress, siren, enchanted, witch, goddess, magic, Ulysses, pigs, sty
Pan
Pan
by Michael R. Burch

... Among the shadows of the groaning elms,
amid the darkening oaks, we fled ourselves ...

... Once there were paths that led to coracles
that clung to piers like loosening barnacles ...

... where we cannot return, because we lost
the pebbles and the playthings, and the moss ...

... hangs weeping gently downward, maidens’ hair
who never were enchanted, and the stairs ...

... that led up to the Fortress in the trees
will not support our weight, but on our knees ...

... we still might fit inside those splendid hours
of damsels in distress, of rustic towers ...

... of voices of the wolves’ tormented howls
that died, and live in dreams’ soft, windy vowels ...

Published by The Chariton Review

Keywords/Tags: Childhood, dreams, enchanted, stairs, fortress, trees, damsels, maidens, towers, wolves, howls, oaks, elms, paths, pebbles, playthings, toys, moss
Amy Dedman Feb 24
what enchants me the most
is how you make me feel at home
even if home isn't in sight

what astounds me more
is how you make me feel safe
even if danger is lurking round the corner

but

what mesmerises me just a little bit more
is how when you are by my side
everything is complete
and we
are magnetised
Starlit recorder of summer nights,
what magic spell bewitches you?
They say that all lovers love first in the dark . . .
Is it true?
   Is it true?
      Is it true?

Starry-eyed seer of all that appears
and all that has appeared—
What sights have you seen?
What dreams have you dreamed?
What rhetoric have you heard?

Is love an oration,
or is it a word?
Have you heard?
   Have you heard?
      Have you heard?

I believe I wrote this poem about an enchanted, bewitched lake in my late teens, during my “Romantic Period.”
Undead Nomad Nov 2019
t'was way beyond the pier
that a tune she did hear
serenading her ears
luring sounds that turned gears
she came braving her fears

melodies of folklore
though more than metaphor
pace low beside field crops
hail high over treetops
and between their long legs

words of gradual grace
dance to timbre in jest
to disturb silent rest
with chords as bright as light
and words as dark as night

she walked along the shore
until she stood before
fingers forming a bridge
pulling her deep within
between the broken ridge

calls of the canary
walk the tributary
under the sky's red eye
bathed in its scarlet light
within the black twilight

observing closer now
golden pieces of art
pierced the walls of her heart
luminescent light shows
complete at midnight's close
A personal challenge poem I wrote a while ago that was to tell a story that went with a picture while having 6 blocks of text with 5 lines of 6 syllables each. Why only 5 lines? Because I liked the flow better.
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