"hunters" poems - Hello Poetry

Lovers entered a forbidden forest bower, And as they stalked that range, with eyes glazed, She offered up her hind. Now, with doe eyes, Deep as his, deep in arousal's sleep, heels fell, As he knocked and pulled her dark honey hair And whispered, surrender, into wanting ears, Softly he drove his hunting command, homing To his huntress. Her body braced, yet bade, with heat and vibrance. Ruthlessly, he ****** his arrow deeper and then Once more and then again. She bucked fiercely And defiant, goading his prodding lance ever more Ever longer, and parting the pink lines of her white Rose, he was, and once again, Prince to the dark Dominion of her quarters. In the middle of this carnal match they paused. And looking into the forest beyond they saw A yearling fawn, a feral Goddess, grazing still, Bathing in a vale, virginal, wholly unmoved By their act of venery, lustfully playing, in the innocent Leaves. It was as if they were among her kin, a gentle Doe and a noble stag. From that moment on The human hunters did not speak. Falling, again, rolling eyes were deep in arousal's sleep. Her back was a crescent moon pocked and wet with dew. He could feel her heart beating in time with his piercing Prong, her arching back glistened in the suns spittle As it broke through the dark and vernal ceiling wood. In the final shot her quivering buck lowered and broke And a sound not heard, made a scene, a sweet murmuring Shuddered and sank onto the floor of the forest leaves With her tale, taken and told, her breathless breath, Her nostrils cold and her heated and lanced openings Dripping, draining; here was a New World’s beginning. Sated, solemn and softly quaking, his woman sweetly laid, And now, doomed with her doe eyes, two lovers, fated, made; She glowed, divine, like the rolling brook that mellowed Slow, in the vine-dark and golden forest stable, In Artemis’s wood.

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Jun 15, 2012

Jun 15, 2012 at 1:33 PM UTC

ormond

In Artemis’s Wood

Lovers entered a forbidden forest bower, And as they stalked that range, with eyes glazed, She offered up her hind. Now, with doe eyes, Deep as his, deep in arousal's sleep, heels fell, As he knocked and pulled her dark honey hair And whispered, surrender, into wanting ears, Softly he drove his hunting command, homing To his huntress. Her body braced, yet bade, with heat and vibrance. Ruthlessly, he ****** his arrow deeper and then Once more and then again. She bucked fiercely And defiant, goading his prodding lance ever more Ever longer, and parting the pink lines of her white Rose, he was, and once again, Prince to the dark Dominion of her quarters. In the middle of this carnal match they paused. And looking into the forest beyond they saw A yearling fawn, a feral Goddess, grazing still, Bathing in a vale, virginal, wholly unmoved By their act of venery, lustfully playing, in the innocent Leaves. It was as if they were among her kin, a gentle Doe and a noble stag. From that moment on The human hunters did not speak. Falling, again, rolling eyes were deep in arousal's sleep. Her back was a crescent moon pocked and wet with dew. He could feel her heart beating in time with his piercing Prong, her arching back glistened in the suns spittle As it broke through the dark and vernal ceiling wood. In the final shot her quivering buck lowered and broke And a sound not heard, made a scene, a sweet murmuring Shuddered and sank onto the floor of the forest leaves With her tale, taken and told, her breathless breath, Her nostrils cold and her heated and lanced openings Dripping, draining; here was a New World’s beginning. Sated, solemn and softly quaking, his woman sweetly laid, And now, doomed with her doe eyes, two lovers, fated, made; She glowed, divine, like the rolling brook that mellowed Slow, in the vine-dark and golden forest stable, In Artemis’s wood.