My Lady Ophelia of the
Golden Fleece.
With hair spun by the Sahara Sun and
alabaster skin.
Eyes of indigo flames and
lips that have the pop of the poppy.
Her lush body fitted in emerald
enchantments and threaded
silver thistles.
See her sailing by the moonlight on an
ethereal sea, upon her ship,
the Tears of Joy.
The Emperor's Butterfly
in her hair with shining wings of
gossamer threads.
Oh! I marvel the twilight afterglow
kiss her skin, making her a peach rose.
From her carnelian cup,
she sips the nectar - moscato sweet.
Her first sip was of gumdrops,
then roses,
and after that, the more.
Salty tears from a mermaid's cheek,
the whispers of wisteria,
the laughterof springberries,
the kisses of sweet neroli
and the tartness of plum toffee.
She passes by Aegean Ruins,
her secret retreat upon the White Cliffs
that is west of the moon.
The beauty of this lost history
is as soft and deep as an angel's sigh,
with its enchanting mist like graceful
The shadows of the Black Hills bloom.
She coats herself in a cloak of midnight and
she descends down, setting foot ashore.
She walked down the winding road of
burnt orchids
and lavender sands.
She had heard whisperings of
an unfound door
the Dreamweavers of the
Sable Heart.
And so she wanders...
Passed the midnight trees and
their sad serenades.
The chill of sea ice and the
sharpness of pewter buds.
The mist dances.
It twirls.
It circles and hisses.
Circles and hisses.
Circles and hisses!
And there it was,
the unfound door
made of crystal shadows.
Lady Ophelia of the Golden Fleece,
extends her hand and holds the knob.
She twists and enters...

This poem is based on a dream I had while working on my stories. But I woke up so I have no idea what comes happens next lo.
I hope you like it!

He perched upon his steely throne,
beset by plebs and debtors,
and made his judgement, more astute
than any man of letters:

"This usurper who bears no name -
he never sees the sun,
and thus daren't start his daily toil
'til evening has begun.

'Til the twilight bell doth knell
the pastures he'll surrender,
for in this land of habitudes
he is their one defender.

A rider came, with news; he has
conferred with his committee -
the dastard has concieved a plan
to rape and raze this city.

As such," continued on the king,
"'tis well within my reckoning
that any decent gent would not
to such a man be beckoning.

And therefore," he went on, "I do
declare that we and he are foes -
rally, soldiers! Go ye forth!
May he regret the path he chose."

If I had a coffee shop,
I'd call it The Lullaby.
There'd be sleepy yellow light,
And beer mugs full of
Iced tea.

I'd know all of the town
And hug the people who
Need it.
I'd have sandwiches
For rainy days,
And warm pastries
For snowy days,
And Potato salad
For hot days.

If I had a coffee shop,
Old men would sit at the bar,
Sipping their simple coffees,
And whining about the weather,
And the problems
With their cars.
If I had a coffee shop,
Old women would tell me
My cakes are made
The way their mothers used to
Make them,
And I'd serve them tea
In thriftstore
Missmatch teacups.

I'd fill my little Lullaby,
With work by unknown artists,
And strange trinkets I took
A fancy to,
And have books
About old actors,
And books meant to be
Read in a crowd
So you can imagine
The lives around you.

If I owned a coffee shop,
I'd play songs from musicals,
And garnish things
With mint leaves
And strawberries.
I'd have madalines
And my mother's coffee cake,
And her soup too.

If I had a coffee shop,
Maybe I could meet you.

Where time never passes
and night is always day
and day is always night,
where clouds
doze on the horizon
and every grain of sand
has the colours of a rainbow,
there the moon dances
chasing the stars
while the wind lifts up
its silver gown.
The lights in the sky
turn the sea into a mirror
into which the stars and the moon plunge
to re-emerge and soar.
I left my eyes
on the Isle of the Dancing Moon
but wherever I go
I take it with me in my heart
so I’ll never forget

to dream.

29. 7. '16
from the collection “Menu of love”
Mike Virgl Sep 15

with a door set forth
it lay open in his mind
with his hand he waited
it never opened to his eyes

fantasy rules in our heads
when inaction enforced tyranny
upon mortal hearts and souls
dying with every blink

we are just mortal yes?
why do we think actions will fail
when no one will remeber them
they fade as everything does

Live life to breath
And breath to live
My the devil take his hand
From out of my scarmbled brain

So I may choose
With a new foucus to fuel me
I will not be bogged down
By my missed opportunities

all because I am blind
to everything real in front of me
i was living in my head
never outside it

for it was safe...

This was written to communicate my message i really want to get out there... regrets are the worst things to die with

P.s i made all the postive advice lines start with a captial because i feel it is important to draw foucus there, it is not a typo

It was fall when I fell for you
Gazing at hillsides of varied hue,
Red-headed girls in saffron dresses
Coming to give me hugs and kisses,
Moving in droves from outcrops and ridges
Crossing the valleys and brooks without bridges.

You of all were most fair,
Your hair
Piled like clouds at sunrise,
Passion and excitement fierce
Burnt in your gray-blue eyes,
Particles of light aglow
Surrounded you in a mist
That totally enveloped me
Every time we kissed.

Now, you tease me like a breeze
And hear what I don't say
I throw my troubles in your fire:
They're gone
And joy remains.

Fall is the most beautiful season of the year.
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