"ayla" poems
Maids at noon
Performers in the eve'
Maria and Ayla worked,
For every penny they stole.
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 2:12 AM UTC
Thus she pulled tautly
Against his well worn jerkin
Free of woes and clothes
And skin without sin
Removing the veil of enchantment until she rose
Like a full ripe moon high
Upon his radiant earthly body
The welkins were pleased
Sighed with relief
So silken was she within
His richness and majesty
They adorned her with
Their supernatural jewels
To symbolize her graceful submissive gentle nature
They removed from her the chains erasing her paint
This transforming her scars
Into bejewelled stars
To bedeck the ashen midnight of her past with dawns beauty and light
Presenting them both
With a present of eternal
Passion and fulfilment
Mary C Puls
Thus she pulled tautly
Against his well worn jerkin
Free of woes and clothes
And skin without sin
Removing the veil of enchantment until she rose
Like a full ripe moon high
Upon his radiant earthly body
The welkins were pleased
Sighed with relief
So silken was she within
His richness and majesty
They adorned her with
Their supernatural jewels
To symbolize her graceful submissive gentle nature
They removed from her the chains erasing her paind
This transforming her scars
Into bejewelled stars
To bedeck the ashen midnight of her past with dawns beauty and light
Presenting them both
With a present of eternal
Passion and fulfilment
Mary C Puls
Vashti Ayla Miria
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 9:38 PM UTC
n leas of dying daisy's
he lies upon the backs
of those he lays
the lies like upturned bricks
thick with spittle
and coming mud
he muddles through each splotchy patch
as if it is his idem
everlasting
last
coiled he reels
reeking in wait
for his unappealing
stiffened snake
insipid wretch
with rusted wrench
his shrivelled tools
a cake with stench
each loose lewd *****
is one more lent
to the putrid pool
of polliwogs and salamanders
spent drenched in his capsized
boats of ill demise
he criticises truth and lies
again the pain is gnarled around his pen
Vashti Ayla Miria
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 9:35 PM UTC
There used to be 7 sisters
They love to dance and sing
There were close, even as kids
They would play and swing
Their names were many
But let's start with the first
Phaedra, the sister of strength
She was never easy to coerce
Then there was the second
Luna, sister of dance
Every night by the fire
The others saw her prance
This girl was just as great
Estella, sister of song
When she sung
Everyone sang along
Now with the 4th
Ilta, sister of art
People would see her work
And feel it deep in their heart
The 5th is the next
Ayla, sister of story
Full of joy and pain
Always end in glory
6 was always around
Diana, sister of care
If someone was sick
She'd be there
But the last one is hard
For both you and me
Eira, girl of nothing
Yeah, the others are surprised too
She tried to move
But would fall
She tried to sing
But it always hit a wall
Eira tried to be like the others
But she felt small and shy
So while the others were asleep
She hid in the sky
The 6 sisters woke up
And looked and tried
But after years of searching
They began to cry
But little do they know
Eira was great
She was watching the others
Changing the star's fate
Eira isn't mad
But sad and hurt
Maybe one day
She'll leave her yurt
And dance with her sisters
Like she was born to do
Because they love each other
All the way, through and through
Aug 10, 2025
Aug 10, 2025 at 8:50 AM UTC
item
it
list
****
it
is
over
and
over
again
gain
nothing
no thing
idem
mentality
Vashti Ayla Miria
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
Ill fiends
Ilk of Fey novum
Ill laden defensive industry
Ayla eerily Epicurean inside of thee
Alluvium struts bind trammel stratospheric guts
Mar 23, 2021
Mar 23, 2021 at 1:10 AM UTC