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When I rov’d a young Highlander o’er the dark heath,
  And climb’d thy steep summit, oh Morven of snow!
To gaze on the torrent that thunder’d beneath,
  Or the mist of the tempest that gather’d below;
Untutor’d by science, a stranger to fear,
  And rude as the rocks, where my infancy grew,
No feeling, save one, to my ***** was dear;
  Need I say, my sweet Mary, ’twas centred in you?

Yet it could not be Love, for I knew not the name,—
  What passion can dwell in the heart of a child?
But, still, I perceive an emotion the same
  As I felt, when a boy, on the crag-cover’d wild:
One image, alone, on my ***** impress’d,
  I lov’d my bleak regions, nor panted for new;
And few were my wants, for my wishes were bless’d,
  And pure were my thoughts, for my soul was with you.

I arose with the dawn, with my dog as my guide,
  From mountain to mountain I bounded along;
I breasted the billows of Dee’s rushing tide,
  And heard at a distance the Highlander’s song:
At eve, on my heath-cover’d couch of repose.
  No dreams, save of Mary, were spread to my view;
And warm to the skies my devotions arose,
  For the first of my prayers was a blessing on you.

I left my bleak home, and my visions are gone;
  The mountains are vanish’d, my youth is no more;
As the last of my race, I must wither alone,
  And delight but in days, I have witness’d before:
Ah! splendour has rais’d, but embitter’d my lot;
  More dear were the scenes which my infancy knew:
Though my hopes may have fail’d, yet they are not
  forgot,
Though cold is my heart, still it lingers with you.

When I see some dark hill point its crest to the sky,
  I think of the rocks that o’ershadow Colbleen;
When I see the soft blue of a love-speaking eye,
  I think of those eyes that endear’d the rude scene;
When, haply, some light-waving locks I behold,
  That faintly resemble my Mary’s in hue,
I think on the long flowing ringlets of gold,
  The locks that were sacred to beauty, and you.

Yet the day may arrive, when the mountains once more
  Shall rise to my sight, in their mantles of snow;
But while these soar above me, unchang’d as before,
  Will Mary be there to receive me?—ah, no!
Adieu, then, ye hills, where my childhood was bred!
  Thou sweet flowing Dee, to thy waters adieu!
No home in the forest shall shelter my head,—
  Ah! Mary, what home could be mine, but with you?
r Mar 2014
Water wives live sheltered lives
Amongst the coves where pirates rove

Daily catch is makers match
Where red hot stoves hide fresh baked loaves

Water men are thick and thin
So often strove where shipmates hove

Water child is often wild
The treasure trove where pirates roved

r ~ 19Mar14
All in fun, my village friends.
Joshua Quinones Nov 2011
It rained a lot that June,
and July,
and August,
but mostly June;
probably no more than any other start of summer,
or middle,
or end.

But this time I was there
to feel it;
to hear it; to smell it,
and to watch it from a splintery chestnut bench
beneath the sheltering arms of Blueberry.

It was an eyelid-drooping-day
(that day we arrived),
and I remember well
the syrupy spread of hazy heat
o’er that frog polluted lake (or pond)
and the perspiration, all but dripping from every spruce
(or hemlock).

“And this,” David said, “is the Barn.”
Cracked and shaky it stood
like a dusty, weathered book,
unwanted, tossed into the woods.
“Here stay the pigs and the horses.”

“And this,” Daniel said, “is the animal pen.”
Where goats and sheep of black and white
roved their cells with passive acceptance,
and puppies pawed and nipped at each other’s ears,
and ducks awaited the arrival of a hungry fox
(that blasted, blasted fox)

And then the Taj Mahal
like a jewel protruding from the forest’s earthy *****,
sporting its sparkling bathroom
stretching on as a football field,
complete with stadium seats
of the finest porcelain.

Through the burning day we rambled,
every inhale, a different experience—
for me: aromas of the new
to someday fashion potent memories,
for them: a blissful return.
Like coming home
(as in fact it was).

And though it had a night,
that day could run forever
on a thin white track
picked freshly off the stack,
but it won’t
for it was but the first domino
and maybe even the one that is blank on both sides.

Lazily we fell
as if onto the moon
through mornings of sluggish scrubbing,
afternoons of anything, anything at all,
and bare-chest-bonfire nights.

And that rubber ball
loving no one like it did Philip.
With solid swings; fantastic flourishes
his hand was as God’s—
directing the perilous orbit with ease
and the care of a diamond cutter.

And so it was us,
the four:
I, the brothers, and the ruler of the tethered pole
conquering seven foot ping pong tables
and seven acre deer fences
and mountains.

So passed weeks, and we were diminished
to a trio
for David had stepped off of the continent
to the land of the “highest” religion,
but we didn’t miss a beat
and plowed through month’s end, ridding our bodies of water
through nothing but sweat.

And we held every moment for ransom
forcing the next to give us better
so by sunset we were rich as kings,
and then Robin Hood would slip out of the woods
and rob us blind ‘til we awoke
and stole it all back.
    
So came July,
trotting in with bloated pride
upon his mighty steed of white
and red
and blue,
and us:  riding cheerfully behind.

It was a splendid night on moon-streaked shores
where once again we fell
to one less than three,
and Daniel with his ancient mandolin,
    and I with hearty laughter
played the night a song more lovely even than those steady, falling waves
under bottle rocket stars.

Then celebration folded
as peace made way
for mighty conqueror’s return,
and we paraded through the streets
(gravel strewn, and dusty clouded),
four flags raised high on their posts
once again.

Our arrival was rejoiced
and met with days of games and feasting,
and we embraced our loyal subjects
and friends
and family
and bathed in bliss until our skin wrinkled.

The festivities were a glorious potpourri
of doctor ball and bombardment,
frisbee goal and son of prisoner’s base,
but one kicked dust in all of there faces
and was known to only us.

The most dangerous game,
in expansive fields of ferns and fiery thorns
and rivers of knotted rhododendrons
was played,
and we were darting swallows, prancing fawns, and stealthy owls
hunters and hunted
wielding broken hockey sticks.

Our war wounds burned
when merged with the salty grime
of humidity and blood
and ravenous gnats.
Gritting our teeth, we brandished our staves,
Hacking through brush, towards survival.

Each quivering breath—
an alarm
-to prey or predator-
‘til we discovered it was just our own,
and then a snapping twig
would bulge our eyes and wretch our heads
to put us right back on our guard.

And when the chase was on
it was a race against the beating of our hearts
(whose footsteps may have ran a mile
in a minute).
With flailing arms, wildly we sprinted
grateful to the wind
for tending to our wounds.

And it always came down to three:
two to make the wolf
against one to make the timid hare,
and our brilliant, clashing swordplay
out-rang the tick of the clock
until our arms were merely crutches
held firm against our quavering knees.  
      
Hungry, weary, we returned
to eat our fill and drink
nearly twenty glasses of water,
and Nate: his nine cups of tea,
and Sarah: her mug, larger than the coffee *** itself,
and Rhodan: the entire pond
for his sweat-rag had ****** him bone dry.

We sat impatiently
conversing through our grinning teeth
who yearned to navigate the textures of the awaited food.
And then it arrived,
shoved out onto ebony countertops,
accompanied by salt
and pepper.

We downed every morsel
in a single,
hour-long gulp,
then cursed our gluttonous guts
for expanding far beyond their boundaries
and sat
for walking was as thin a hope as eating dessert.

Rhodan then reached his charcoal hand
and swiped the salt from where it had static stood:
beneath the feet of its dark companion.
I watched in wonder as the dropped container swayed and swayed—
a drunkard with his shoes nailed firmly to the ground—,
then righted itself with a final shake.

We all declared it simple
and stacked the salt atop the dusky survivor.
Swipe after swipe, we beat that pepper ******
and left the pale mineral to gravity’s mercy,
rebuilding and razing again and again
our cookies n’ cream totem pole,
but not a soul prevailed.

Finally, Rhodan interrupted our failures,
and between squeaking giggles voiced,
“Well, you can’t do it that way!”
and gently helped the milky shaker to its feet
and retrieved the other battered building block.

“You see,”  
he said while delicately setting his stage
“the pepper must always be on top.”
With a blink he swept his hand across the table
rendering the black bottle dizzy
but securely parked in its place.
“It’s the only one that can land on its feet.”

Amazed, we tried again,
of course
and succeeded for the most part,
both perplexed and delighted—
a combination that is
a magician’s best friend.

Although, Rhodan was no magician,
just a giddy boy
who understood simple physics
and lived for moments where he could explain
his confused and jumbled symbolism
(the kind that you know you could discover
if you searched for half of a Summer).

Then August
Where time, not at all anxious to win,
slowed tremendously on the homestretch.
Every day that passed was a cloud
who emptied all of its contents
before waving goodbye.

The water slowed our falling bodies even more
(as water tends to do),
and David with his quiet disposition
sung the loudest, danced the wildest
at waning firesides,
and soon we all began to wish
that we would never land.

And as the ground rushed ever nearer
we made our final mark
on brim of mighty mountain
whose shadow had generously cooled us from the sun
all Summer.

And the skies leased a stronger storm
than any we had ever beheld,
and gazing from that towering peak
into the face of midday’s cloud,
we thanked God
for not dropping us as hard as he did that rain.

And now, thinking back,
I would say it rained more in August
than in June
for that single afternoon of thunder shattered skies
must have drowned the earth a thousand times over
and then some.

And when we made our dripping descent,
I heard the echo of a gleeful voice
revealing the secret,  
and I knew then that we were pepper,
that we would land feet first
so as to leap straight up again.

That we would soar
  from the chalky flats of that pallid moon
to discover planets of lower gravity
and more rain
and greener forests
and higher towers.
O Fair and stately maid, whose eye
Was kindled in the upper sky
At the same torch that lighted mine;
For so I must interpret still
Thy sweet dominion o'er my will,
A sympathy divine.

Ah! let me blameless gaze upon
Features that seem in heart my own,
Nor fear those watchful sentinels
Which charm the more their glance forbids,
Chaste glowing underneath their lids
With fire that draws while it repels.

Thine eyes still shined for me, though far
I lonely roved the land or sea,
As I behold yon evening star,
Which yet beholds not me.

This morn I climbed the misty hill,
And roamed the pastures through;
How danced thy form before my path,
Amidst the deep-eyed dew!

When the red bird spread his sable wing,
And showed his side of flame,
When the rose-bud ripened to the rose,
In both I read thy name.
solEmn oaSis Nov 2015
on the 6th day of January
a baby boy were born namely
Solomon E. Sicio,
he was the 7th child as recorded too.
5 years later,,,he learned how to write,sing and the eagerness to listen
1 day,,, bcoz of his thirst and hunger..he roved around to the kitchen
HEY ! WHAT ARE YOU DOING ? voiced over by his eldest brother
Oh Kuya come and look,how should i cut this lime? I GOT WONDER!

kuya Sonny took the knife- begun to talk and started to demonstrate.
so he'd enlightened from then on and used to love playing such a mind game,
times gone by,he uses 2 nickname--"Sol or MON" on his 3rd grade.
But he hates the feeling when he is already 8 years old.Less than a decade
.............has just past again-he decided to grew up and be matured enough!
Until now----out of 9 of his brethren ,,,don't know his caliber for being tough
,,,,but 4 of his best-friend really knew how he draw the character named
san Goku
and he finally entered to the nation of hp world,,and want to say............
HOW HE LOVES AND HATE TO PLAY THE GAME SO CALLED ...**sudoku
special thanks to Hidden agenda for the poem of its own
entitled Am I Thirsty or Hungry?
,,,,,,
when i read that.. i just wanna share also, some sort of bedtime stories
i've been doing to my son and daughter
:a seven and six years old children of mine without their mother
because me and my wife are currently living in seperate lives !
Once more the storm is howling, and half hid
Under this cradle-hood and coverlid
My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle
But Gregory's Wood and one bare hill
Whereby the haystack and roof-levelling wind,
Bred on the Atlantic, can be stayed;
And for an hour I have walked and prayed
Because of the great gloom that is in my mind.

I have walked and prayed for this young child an hour,
And heard the sea-wind scream upon the tower,
In the elms above the flooded stream;
Imagining in excited reverie
That the future years had come
Dancing to a frenzied drum
Out of the murderous innocence of the sea.

May she be granted beauty, and yet not
Beauty to make a stranger's eye distraught,
Or hers before a looking-glass; for such,
Being made beautiful overmuch,
Consider beauty a sufficient end,
Lose natural kindness, and maybe
The heart-revealing intimacy
That chooses right, and never find a friend.
Helen, being chosen, found life flat and dull,
And later had much trouble from a fool;
While that great Queen that rose out of the spray,
Being fatherless, could have her way,
Yet chose a bandy-legged smith for man.
It's certain that fine women eat
A crazy salad with their meat
Whereby the Horn of Plenty is undone.

In courtesy I'd have her chiefly learned;
Hearts are not had as a gift, but hearts are earned
By those that are not entirely beautiful.
Yet many, that have played the fool
For beauty's very self, has charm made wise;
And many a poor man that has roved,
Loved and thought himself beloved,
From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes.

May she become a flourishing hidden tree,
That all her thoughts may like the linnet be,
And have no business but dispensing round
Their magnanimities of sound;
Nor but in merriment begin a chase,
Nor but in merriment a quarrel.
Oh, may she live like some green laurel
Rooted in one dear perpetual place.

My mind, because the minds that I have loved,
The sort of beauty that I have approved,
Prosper but little, has dried up of late,
Yet knows that to be choked with hate
May well be of all evil chances chief.
If there's no hatred in a mind
Assault and battery of the wind
Can never tear the linnet from the leaf.

An intellectual hatred is the worst,
So let her think opinions are accursed.
Have I not seen the loveliest woman born
Out of the mouth of Plenty's horn,
Because of her opinionated mind
Barter that horn and every good
By quiet natures understood
For an old bellows full of angry wind?

Considering that, all hatred driven hence,
The soul recovers radical innocence
And learns at last that it is self-delighting,
Self-appeasing, self-affrighting,
And that its own sweet will is heaven's will,
She can, though every face should scowl
And every windy quarter howl
Or every bellows burst, be happy still.

And may her bridegroom bring her to a house
Where all's accustomed, ceremonious;
For arrogance and hatred are the wares
Peddled in the thoroughfares.
Are innocence and beauty born?
Ceremony's a name for the rich horn,
And custom for the spreading laurel tree.
Ye banks and braes o’ bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fair!
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae fu’ o’ care!

Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonnie bird
That sings upon the bough;
Thou minds me o’ the happy days
When my fause Luve was true.

Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonnie bird
That sings beside thy mate;
For sae I sat, and sae I sang,
And wist na o’ my fate.

Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon
To see the woodbine twine,
And ilka bird sang o’ its love;
And sae did I o’ mine.

Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose
Frae aff its thorny tree;
And my fause luver staw the rose,
But left the thorn wi’ me.
Andrew T Hannah Jun 2013
“Now, you shall remember what lies in the dark…
That makes men to fear, and to tremble, and hark.
Now you shall learn well why night’s ebon rising,
Drove men to the fire, with terror most surprising!
People have no grasp of what they do, but as ever,
Mankind learns now, or man risks learning never.
I am not here to teach, but to lead some far astray,
From the paths of the wicked, where many delay.”
  
Welcome, mortal soul, unto the Dragon’s domain,
A heaven within a hell, and pleasures amidst pain!
In velvet gowns of black silk, my priestesses glide,
Harlots all, who in these stone halls eternally abide.
Wearing silver masks molded as their frozen faces,
Features smiling, the priestesses walk like graces…
Through these stone halls, in my castle’s lofty keep!
Where the black mists of time, into the stones seep.
Tears of blood fall from the masks, ever so delicate,
Like leaves in the autumn, a scarlet wine succulent.
The priestesses weep, for they have lost their souls,
Nine in all: to the flame that burns hotter than coals.
Forever smiling, and weeping tears of crimson joy,
Nine priestesses dance, holding a skull like a toy…
The skull that was my own from a lifetime gone by,
Kissing it with unmoving lips, raising it up to the sky.
You have come to me, visitor, in search of wisdom,
For who has given it to you in life, without any cost?
I shall tell you things older than the eldest kingdom,
Yet the only price is that you see the truth is not lost.
  
“Do you fear damnation, mortal, whilst in my house?
Let the darkness embrace you, helpless as a mouse.
Do you fear hellfire, mortal, before my fiery hearth?
Let the heat overcome you, with its’ fierce warmth.
The intoxication of the night gives birth to ecstasy,
When we do let go of ourselves and behold infinity!
Break the chains that bind you to the modern mores,
That seek always to enslave free souls by the scores.”
  
Hidden in the great hall, beneath the circular dome,
A portrait of me from another age of flesh and bone!
My eyes starting eternally, seeing yet without blood,
For a painting never has life: or any emotional flood.
My small mouth smiles, but it is cruel without mirth...
Judging harshly these lost halls, beyond: their worth.
The blue of my living eyes meet the painting’s stare,
As I laugh at the worthlessness of it, without a care.
My flesh is the same as it was in the ancient period,
Except that today I am living, back then I was dead.
My name has changed, but my soul remains as then,
I have risen before from desire, and I will rise again!
Hell will not take me, and I am rejected from above,
All because of my passions and also because of love.
And so in my castle, I plan my return to a lost glory,
Whilst folks tell tales: in remembrance, of my story.
Who was the author, of those myths, if not I myself?
I: who have walked, for thousands of years passing.
How I saw Atlantis sink, and books fall from shelf…
Whilst ancient libraries proved not to be everlasting!
  
“Do you fear to live, human, and so look unto doom?
My eyes are looking back at yours inside the gloom.
Do you fear to laugh, human, and so sorrow pours?
Let yourself be empty of woe, and free of all chores.
Return to the earth and love nature’s fair abundance,
Pick flowers and dance with all of joy’s exuberance!
Life is too short to waste in torment and dire misery,
Embrace the glory of the land, to see man’s destiny.”
  
They look with fear in their hearts to the night skies,
Whilst crossing themselves, and recalling older lies…
Stories of the vampire, that haunts the lonely places,
But of real truth they know not, in the empty spaces.
And all spaces are empty where ignorance flourishes,
For whilst fear pierces the heart, it never encourages!
But without fear, mankind would have lost my tale…
Told around the fires, by men whose faces grew pale.
And I walked amongst them, though they never saw,
Encouraging their plummeting into Hell’s hungry maw.
For light without darkness is as worthless as any art…
That never had life and lacks the sting of pain’s dart.
For, to know why love must be cherished, so dear…
All must first understand: of loss, and pain, and fear.
And so some angels must be demons, when needed,
So that all the gardens of creation: could be weeded.
With words of flame when blazing swords oft break,
A being clad in flesh, such as I, can create harmony.
Wars can be ended, and we can learn from mistakes,
But first one must cast away their anger until empty.
  
“Do you fear the truth, child, for the lies once taught?
Then your parents deceived you with every thought.
Do you fear the dark, child, for the light you desire?
The light is in the darkness, true warmth: in the fire.
Beyond yourself is the true you, so like the phoenix,
Ready to rise up: like the dead, from the river Styx!
We are, all of us, reborn when we reject false ideals,
Given wings of fire, once we break all the old seals.”
  
A mad, fiery feeling within my ever-burning breast,
Reminds me of the passion I seek, a love that is best.
And though I have journeyed to places of torment…
My heart is not stilled, and yet rages like the torrent,
Of waves that crash upon the rockiest shores known.
And though I have seen sights none should be shown,
I emerged from the netherworld complete and whole.
Out into the night I flew swiftly, and on a wind stole,
Beyond: the dark forests of pine, and stately old oak.
Past the water of the lake, past man’s fire and smoke,
I roved and roamed seeking for one to be my bride…
But everywhere foolish peasant maidens like to hide!
If they could know the yearning that I always endure,
Would not just one fair maiden, open for me her door?
I am a prince without a princess, and that cannot last.
Now I open my door, and welcome you to my repast!
If you are a maiden come to dine then sit at my table,
And let me be the wellspring from which dreams soar.
Do not wait until I am gone; partake whilst now able,
You will find what you never imagined existed before.
  
“Do you fear to love, girl, for the hate of this sad age?
Banish the world from your mind, let go of the rage.
Do you fear to care, girl, for the wrong once enacted?
Then come into my arms, as your heart has directed.
Let desire consume you, as old wounds heal swiftly,
I will place a crown on your head so wear it proudly!
You shall be attired with the sun, a radiant goddess,
All the stars will lie, at the train of your gilded dress.”
She walked alone.
As the world droned.
With the fog swirling round.
Along the wet grassy mound.

Among the dead trees of autumn.
That flapped in the cold breeze as they hummed.
Distant lights of morning twinkled round her.
Slightly, unsteady, getting brighter.

She hastened away into the gloom of the dawn.
Upon God she wished to fawn.
To instill her hopes into the earth.
To regain her place of birth.

Thither, under a shading sycamore.
Lied a gloomy tomb of yore.
Staring back at her silently.
As if wishing to embrace her ardently.

Thither lied her silent love...
Corrupted through seasons that roved.
Left untouched in the dark.
Like a fading mark.

He used to be a handsome man.
Swaggering along his Father's land.
Smiling at the promise of the day.
Dancing his nights away.

She wist where she had seen him for the very first time.
When the church bell chimed.
When sons of God filled the cold emptiness.
To calm the world's restlessness.

She touched her love affectionately.
For the last time before she left reluctantly.
With tears her eyes dimmed.
She would always come back for him.

She and the tomb shared an old story only they wist.
Of feelings she could never resist.
Her longing for his presence.
Though only exsisted in silence.
Aishani Laha May 2013
The storm falls with me
My eyes are clouded
With rain my being is shrouded
Banking on Betrayal's camaraderie.

I'm living in my own delirious shell
Suffocating joy
Playing muse in my ploy
Surviving my self-established Hell.

Have I truly loved?
Do I not see the perdition I've raised?
Conundrum upon which I gazed
As wandering eyes have roved.

I had promised to stand tall
Through the gale-ridden days
An estranged promise of always
Only to break, to fall.

Across my brow, a singular stormy mark
Distantly, my lover's voice rings through
"What if the darkness is within you?"
"What if you are the dark?"
RKM Nov 2011
Us
We are gathered here today in a space
cluttered with you and you who I’ve cried and tore
The voices that I’ve played in my auditory canal
When sentience has made me raw.
And our collective limbs have babbled through fields
or roved on roads of tyre
Watched mitosis play with our fingers
So our heads float to bricks that are higher  
We are sewn together by memories
Shooting synapses bounce inbetween brains
The first time she wobbled a milk stone
The pink cardigan left on that train.
We will stretch out our patience to mountains
Nearly burst in our tallies to ten
But there’s always a rope shared between us
Always straw in our symbiotic den.
Prashant Shaurya Apr 2019
~~~~~~~~~~~~~1~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The valiant king rode across
A perilous mountain pass, which
Led to a mystic who could
Dispel the chance of death at war.

He roved along the rough terrain
Through rows of shuddering pine
His journey had no sojourn till
He'd drink the elixir wine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~2~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sage lived in a far flung place
Amidst mountains old as time
In that ancient talismanic cave
He reached his spiritual prime.

No man had ever seen the sage
Yet stories had been told, of those
Who sipped that miracle wine
And rose above their woes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~3~~~~~~~~~~~~
The king kneeled down before the sage
To narrate his woes through prayer
Then said, pour thy mercy, my Lord,
For my nation's in despair.

The gory war's killed umpteen men
My army faces defeat
Bless and save my people, O Lord!
For the enemy won't retreat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~4~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sage looked at the distressed king
Whose heartbeats had sunken low
For only the saint's miracle
Could help him fight the foe.

The sage did cast a magic spell
Pressed the ruler's armour of steel
Then said go back and fight my king
Triumph, and help your nation heal.

Prashant Shaurya ©
All Rights Reserved
17-04-2019
I past beside the reverend walls
  In which of old I wore the gown;
  I roved at random thro' the town,
And saw the tumult of the halls;

And heard one more in college fanes
  The storm their high-built organs make,
  And thunder-music, rolling, shake
The prophet blazon'd on the panes;

And caught one more the distant shout,
  The measured pulse of racing oars
  Among the willows; paced the shores
And many a bridge, and all about

The same gray flats again, and felt
  The same, but not the same; and last
  Up that long walk of limes I past
To see the rooms in which he dwelt.

Another name was on the door:
  I linger'd; all within was noise
  Of songs, and clapping hands, and boys
That crash'd the glass and beat the floor;

Where once we held debate, a band
  Of youthful friends, on mind and art,
  And labour, and the changing mart,
And all the framework of the land;

When one would aim an arrow fair,
  But send it slackly from the string;
  And one would pierce an outer ring,
And one an inner, here and there;

And last the master-bowman, he,
  Would cleave the mark. A willing ear
  We lent him. Who, but hung to hear
The rapt oration flowing free

From point to point, with power and grace
  And music in the bounds of law,
  To those conclusions when we saw
The God within him light his face,

And seem to lift the form, and glow
  In azure orbits heavenly wise;
  And over those ethereal eyes
The bar of Michael Angelo.
Olivia L Mar 2017
I was watching the fish a few days ago, and decided to join them.
Their flickering fins slowly glinted as the sun sank beside me.
I came prepared: purple swimsuit, goggles, and a glowstick
But I left behind a life preserver.
It was on the shore, just in case, but as my feet graced the waves it no longer felt necessary to take precautions.

The golden red hues faded as the water got cold and I continued to drift.
My glowstick glanced off scales and shells, and my hair dye ran like blood around me.

Humans aren't supposed to be able to live without oxygen.
The body will shut down in at least four minutes with severe brain damage, and the possibility of death,
But how can one think of that in moments like this?

Even when all that is left is green, man-made light,
Waiting two seconds in murky liquid, the water comes alive.
Anemones waved as I sunk deeper, their glow penetrating the black.
Schools of fish twirled between my thighs as I landed softly on a coral bed, then slipped off into the sand.

Bubbles brewed from my nose.

Eyes burning as my gaze roved
I was blind in the darkness.
My chest began to tighten,
But who cared?
I had been watching fish, and found myself instead.
Dawnstar Feb 2018
Swelter of summer in the veld.
An old buggy hums along,
Playing a German tune.
The bushbucks scatter from cover.
Roland dismounts; his partner too
Stares out across the thicket sea,
With quavering jaw, puffs his pipe
And slings a hunting gun.
Says he to Roland:
“Here, we are masters of the plain!
In the company of beasts,
We should not be lonely,
Yet my heart cries out
For land and love that I left.”

Roland stamps a dusty rock.
Arms hang freely, eyes sunken low.
His bronzed face,
Marked with the age of a soldier,
Nurtures a sad smile....
“In the land of Amazons,
We roved like bandits
And lived like kings;
We could take whatever we wished,
Amidst the cries of desperate men….
Don't you see, brother?
Men like us are destined
Never to find happiness.”

...Evening birdsong ushers
Cool night over the veld.
IV/IV
kelvin mungai Sep 2015
curled and cuddled together
we lay on the dewy grass
with only the forbidden fruit to share
birds and insects chirps spiced the moonlit night
as the aroma of the forest drifted and swirled
around our entangled flame
the curls of your African hair sent electric impulse
across my sinewy muscles
and a soft moan escaped my clenched mouth
your crystal clear eyes was a reflecting pool
of thirst and your face glowed with lust
your ice cold tongue grazed over my lips
depriving sanity from me
i parted my twitching mouth and
your juicy lips ****** my breath away
your mesmerizing gaze hypnotized me
as sensual hunger overwhelmed me
i responded back by biting passionately,
our hands roved over each other
and we were lost in a reverie of epic disrobing
the jealous moon glared fiercely at our
magnificent anatomy as
we flicked and licked to a thrilling and fulfilling feeling
your guttural and purr noise turned me on and your caress
and whispers caused ****** shocks that made my body tense
i massaged your full eyesome  chest twins making your leg part
i knelt between your knees and i knew it was the time
the time to commit sin of worshiping between your thighs
i slipped in your soppy bush and in i slid
making bodies mold as one
tearing my back with your long nails i ****** in you
your heavy breathing and the boring gaze spelled all
"go fast and don't stop"
i implored your honeypot with bliss making your
hips to dance at the rhythm of my successive ******
a building symphony was cresting so high
nostrils flared and your legs locked behind my back
our musical moaning reached crescendo
euphoric sensation made us spasm
pure deepening whirlpool of ecstasy made you
writhe beneath me and contortions of ******
etched your innocent face
i lay on you breathless as my sweat glands busted
panting in afterglow of love making
The eyes that roved across her skin at altitude where the air was thin and still she would not let him in
and still he waited to begin,
a simmering
a gentle heat where bodies meet,
exchange complete and
melt away,
the night meets day
sometimes.
For ages men's thoughts hast roved yonder skies,
Naming nameless planets and stars afar,
But not far from mine eyes nor from thine eyes,
There's still a novelty un-named bright star,
That whispers along like a rushing brook,
Drawing men in a vale of thoughts to Rove,
Like a lone shepherd doth search a stray crook,
Or like a frisky cloud scudding above.
Though, if she'd be a gem, she's but a pearl,
Thrice more precious than gold is to a dwarf,
Yet if a flower, seldom doth unfurl,
Despite to her, poetry, all men ****.

If thee would truly unveil my riddle,
Come thou away take my golden fiddle.
#Decasyllabic
#SolveMyRiddle
#Attempt at a Shakespearean sonnet.
Megan Sherman Nov 2016
I roved on a breeze,
Searching for the sounds that snare,
Ah! I’ve reached the seas!

Music of the beach:
In clement climes calypso
Sounds riot, mad, hot.

The kooky notes bounce,
Calling limbs to undulate,
Putting spark in them.

It's celebration,
Worship of life, love, laughter,
Expressed in bold style.

Limbs swing loose, the dance
in zest protests the squat, staid sky,
as bleak as a dirge.

Another music:
Waves crush, crashing over me,
Sounds like maracas.

Churning itself the
Sea has enigmatic sounds
Off the spectrum of

Perception. Our ears,
Too blunted by the loud world,
Hears sea’s beauty not.

Ocean's nocturne lost,
Sea-creature symphonies that
Elude our dulled ears.

Too fine tuned for ads,
telly, society's safe sounds
which cut, sever us

from the raw, primal
sounds of the earth, the sounds which
hide in shells, caves, seas.

Man's sound is sullied
In nature's eyes, we are just
White noise, meaning nil.

Roving home I stop,
Thinking of ways to listen
to her speak her soul.
Jessika Dawar Nov 2015
Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder?
For I was torn between the wondrous musing
And the unfaithful, the treacherous verity.
Dad said that it lies in the wit and the wisdom,
Mom believed it to be synonymous with serenity!

I roved in reverie, pottered with presumptions;
What is beauty? From where does it emanate?
But may be, there was no oasis to my quest.
The answer breezed in and out, gusted here and there;
To catch hold of it was a big, big test!

Was it the reflection in the mirror?
The unbearable, the ill-favoured, it couldn't be.
The face that lacked glow, the face sans any sheens,
It longed for glory, for eminence.
I sighed; for was beauty the boulevard to my dreams?

There are the gifts of botany lacking blossoms,
And scads of scars blotching the moon.
But never could they blotch my view:
Splendor couldn't stop itself descending upon my eyes!
Even in murk, even in dim, I could descry hue.

'Twas in my eyes, they could life the lifeless
Like a shore serenading a cove or
The Ocean constantly kissing the shoreline.
These epitomised allure, incarnated love.
For me, it was an emotion 'divine'!

I realised: Not in the skinny legs and the fair hands
It is found in the vivacity of spirits.
Neither in the mascara nor in the mole;
Beauty has never found it's way through these,
It resides in the heart, in the soul.
butterfly Jan 2018
as the dews touch my skin
silence canopied the evergreen
butterflies are lifted up
like when he held me with his arms
i saw my sorrow float in the water
carried away by the river
then the rabbit walked in
calm as the stream
below our feet
i took a dip and felt my body rejuvenate

and those huge rocks
the love we roved is written
in the first season
how could i forget
the ******* explosion
and the bliss
when two cosmic bodies collide
Endless Numbered Days Series 2018
Chapter 9

“Startled, I pulled away from the man’s grasp and looked at his face. Although he wore a tag that read “Hotel Security” I sensed that there was much more to him than that.
“What’s this about?” I asked sharply, noticing that he was avoiding eye contact.
Clenching his jaw, the man grabbed my arm again, this time more firmly. “Don’t worry, Red, you’ll find out soon enough.”
I hated it when guys called me Red. It was always in a smug way. “Hey, let me go!” I demanded, trying to get away from the *******. But he was strong. Immortally strong.
He ****** me against him and whispered, “Calm the hell down and you won’t get hurt.”
“Are you one of Vlad’s men?”
“You’ll have your questions answered in a few minutes. Just chill out, will you?”
“Not really having any other choice, I allowed the man to usher me away from the restaurant, toward the back of The Veil. Hotel guests watched us curiously.
“Are you okay, dear?” asked an older woman in her seventies. She had a cane and looked about ready to hit my captor with it.
“She’s fine. We don’t allow prostitutes in the hotel,” he said loudly.
Normally I wouldn’t care, but my cheeks burned with shame as the old woman stared at me with disgust.
“Harlot,” she said, glaring at me.
“I’m not a *******,” I said, gritting my teeth. Furious at the way I was being treated, I tried pulling away from him again, but he only dug his fingers into my skin deeper.
“Would you just relax?” he said, as we turned down another hallway. “I’m doing this for your own good.”
“Doesn’t feel that way on my end,” I replied angrily.
“If you’d stop fighting me, I wouldn’t have to resort to this.”
“Then tell me what the hell this is about!”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
I sighed loudly.
We stopped at a door that was marked ‘Security’ and he led me inside. To my surprise, there was a long conference desk with two men sitting next to it.
“Is this her, Nate?” asked one of them, a blonde Nordic-looking guy in an expensive suit.
“She’s just as he described. Plus, she has the mark,” said the guy, releasing my arm.
I rubbed the skin where his fingers had pressed cruelly. “You mean the mark on my wrist from your fingers, *******?”
“Sorry,” said Nate, addressing the two men at the table more than me. “She kept trying to get away.”
“Leave us,” ordered the blonde, frowning at Nate.
“Yes, sir.” Nate turned and walked out the door.
I sighed wearily, wishing I would have never gotten out of bed. “So, who in the hell are you people?”
“I’m sorry, lass. My name is Aiden Rylan and this is Maximus Johnson,” said the blonde, his Irish accent noticeable now.
I folded my arms under my chest, studying both men. Both of them were undeniably rugged, handsome, and obvious big-shots. “And why should that matter to me?”
Aiden’s lip[…]”
“Natel’s part in it. The ******* had made me look like a cheap *****. “Who is this mutual acquaintance?”
“Doris Hart,” said Maximus.
Another surprise. “Really? And how do you know Dorian?” I asked, now sitting down.
“The three of us are long-time friends,” said Aiden.
“But you’re lycan,” I replied. From what I’d gathered over the years, most weren’t too chummy with vampires.
“Yes. We’ve learned to push our differences aside,” said Andrew, his eyes twinkling.
“The truth is that we don’t judge anyone unless they pose a threat,” said Maximus. “And we’ve known Doris Hart for several years. He’s done us favors and now we’re returning one for him.”
“And that is to protect me?” I said, flattered that Doris was still worried about me. He must have really loved my mother.
“Yes. He was very adamant on that. Sorry for your loss, by the way,” said Andrew, his face turning somber.
At the mention of my mother’s death, I looked down at my nails, trying not to tear up. “Thanks.”
“I never met Lilith, but Andrew knew her,” said Maximus, his voice kind.
Surprised, I looked at Andrew. “You did? Really?”
“Actually, I only met[…]”
“He leaned back in his chair, a faraway look now in his eyes. “I guess it was mostly about Vlad and her dealings with him.”
“Why would she confide in you about him?” I asked angrily. The fact that she’d spoken openly about Vlad with him, a stranger, and not me, hurt.
“Because she knew that we were enemies,” said Aiden. “I had no idea that you were his daughter, however. Not until Doris mentioned it on the phone. Your mother obviously didn’t trust anyone with that information”
I relaxed. “What else did Doris tell you?”
“He’s worried about you,” said Andrew . “He says that your life is in danger and you’re not taking it seriously.”
“Believe me, I’m taking it seriously,” I said, smiling grimly.
“Do you know exactly what you’re up against?” asked Maximus.
“I know that Vlad wants me dead.”
“You should also know that he usually gets what he wants,” said Aiden, frowning.
“And that’s why Doris asked if we’d offer you protection,” added Maximus. “You need our help.”
“Thanks for the offer but I don’t need protection from you or Doris ,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “I can take care of myself[…]”
“and is bent on capturing you. Believe me, he has the money and the resources to do just that.”
“Don’t be fooled by my appearance. I might look easy on so many levels, especially in this outfit,” I mused, “but I’m not. If I don’t want to be caught, I won’t.”
“Your confidence is commendable, but it’s going to get you killed,” warned Maximus. “Believe me, I know. I’ve caught many criminals with that same attitude. They get too cocky for their own good and make mistakes.”
So he was a cop. “I’m not being cocky.” I stood up. “I’m just saying that this is my problem and I’ll handle it on my own.”
“Even if you don’t have to?” asked Maximus, as I walked toward the door.
Sighing, I turned around. “Look, I certainly appreciate the offer, I really do. But, I’ll be fine.”
“At least do us a favor and disappear,” said Aiden. “Get out of town before they find you.”
“I’m planning on it,” I admitted. “By the way, how did you two know where to find me?”
“Your partner, Alex Shafer,” said Maximus. “I take it he didn’t call you to tell you we’d be[…]”
“started on stock options. Please.”
Aiden chuckled. “I’ve helped you, haven’t I?”
“Yes, and for that I’m very grateful,” replied Maximus.
“So, when did you talk to Alex?” I asked, changing the subject. I had no interest in talking about stocks, bonds, or anything financial.
“About thirty minutes ago. He said you’d be doing a job here,” replied Maximus.
I dialed Alex’s number, but he didn’t answer. Sighing, I sent him a text, telling him to call me. Then I slipped my phone back into my purse. “Well, I wish I could say it was a pleasure meeting the both you. I’m sure under different circumstances,” I smiled wickedly, “the pleasure would have be all mine.”
Andrew ‘s eyes roved over my body and he grinned. “Oh, lass, I doubt that. I’m pretty sure that the pleasure would have been mutual.”
Laughing, Maximus stood up and held out his card. “In all seriousness, please give me a call if you need help.”
I took it. “Thank you. Detective Maximus Johnson, huh?”
“Call me Max.”
“Okay, Max. Thanks again.” My cell phone began to vibrate. I pulled it back out of my purse and noticed that Alex had sent me a[…]”











Chapter 9

“Startled, I pulled away from the man’s grasp and looked at his face. Although he wore a tag that read “Hotel Security” I sensed that there was much more to him than that.
“What’s this about?” I asked sharply, noticing that he was avoiding eye contact.
Clenching his jaw, the man grabbed my arm again, this time more firmly. “Don’t worry, Red, you’ll find out soon enough.”
I hated it when guys called me Red. It was always in a smug way. “Hey, let me go!” I demanded, trying to get away from the *******. But he was strong. Immortally strong.
He ****** me against him and whispered, “Calm the hell down and you won’t get hurt.”
“Are you one of Vlad’s men?”
“You’ll have your questions answered in a few minutes. Just chill out, will you?”
“Not really having any other choice, I allowed the man to usher me away from the restaurant, toward the back of The Veil. Hotel guests watched us curiously.
“Are you okay, dear?” asked an older woman in her seventies. She had a cane and looked about ready to hit my captor with it.
“She’s fine. We don’t allow prostitutes in the hotel,” he said loudly.
Normally I wouldn’t care, but my cheeks burned with shame as the old woman stared at me with disgust.
“Harlot,” she said, glaring at me.
“I’m not a *******,” I said, gritting my teeth. Furious at the way I was being treated, I tried pulling away from him again, but he only dug his fingers into my skin deeper.
“Would you just relax?” he said, as we turned down another hallway. “I’m doing this for your own good.”
“Doesn’t feel that way on my end,” I replied angrily.
“If you’d stop fighting me, I wouldn’t have to resort to this.”
“Then tell me what the hell this is about!”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
I sighed loudly.
We stopped at a door that was marked ‘Security’ and he led me inside. To my surprise, there was a long conference desk with two men sitting next to it.
“Is this her, Nate?” asked one of them, a blonde Nordic-looking guy in an expensive suit.
“She’s just as he described. Plus, she has the mark,” said the guy, releasing my arm.
I rubbed the skin where his fingers had pressed cruelly. “You mean the mark on my wrist from your fingers, *******?”
“Sorry,” said Nate, addressing the two men at the table more than me. “She kept trying to get away.”
“Leave us,” ordered the blonde, frowning at Nate.
“Yes, sir.” Nate turned and walked out the door.
I sighed wearily, wishing I would have never gotten out of bed. “So, who in the hell are you people?”
“I’m sorry, lass. My name is Aiden Rylan and this is Maximus Johnson,” said the blonde, his Irish accent noticeable now.
I folded my arms under my chest, studying both men. Both of them were undeniably rugged, handsome, and obvious big-shots. “And why should that matter to me?”
Aiden’s lip[…]”
“Natel’s part in it. The ******* had made me look like a cheap *****. “Who is this mutual acquaintance?”
“Doris Hart,” said Maximus.
Another surprise. “Really? And how do you know Dorian?” I asked, now sitting down.
“The three of us are long-time friends,” said Aiden.
“But you’re lycan,” I replied. From what I’d gathered over the years, most weren’t too chummy with vampires.
“Yes. We’ve learned to push our differences aside,” said Andrew, his eyes twinkling.
“The truth is that we don’t judge anyone unless they pose a threat,” said Maximus. “And we’ve known Doris Hart for several years. He’s done us favors and now we’re returning one for him.”
“And that is to protect me?” I said, flattered that Doris was still worried about me. He must have really loved my mother.
“Yes. He was very adamant on that. Sorry for your loss, by the way,” said Andrew, his face turning somber.
At the mention of my mother’s death, I looked down at my nails, trying not to tear up. “Thanks.”
“I never met Lilith, but Andrew knew her,” said Maximus, his voice kind.
Surprised, I looked at Andrew. “You did? Really?”
“Actually, I only met[…]”
“He leaned back in his chair, a faraway look now in his eyes. “I guess it was mostly about Vlad and her dealings with him.”
“Why would she confide in you about him?” I asked angrily. The fact that she’d spoken openly about Vlad with him, a stranger, and not me, hurt.
“Because she knew that we were enemies,” said Aiden. “I had no idea that you were his daughter, however. Not until Doris mentioned it on the phone. Your mother obviously didn’t trust anyone with that information”
I relaxed. “What else did Doris tell you?”
“He’s worried about you,” said Andrew . “He says that your life is in danger and you’re not taking it seriously.”
“Believe me, I’m taking it seriously,” I said, smiling grimly.
“Do you know exactly what you’re up against?” asked Maximus.
“I know that Vlad wants me dead.”
“You should also know that he usually gets what he wants,” said Aiden, frowning.
“And that’s why Doris asked if we’d offer you protection,” added Maximus. “You need our help.”
“Thanks for the offer but I don’t need protection from you or Doris ,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “I can take care of myself[…]”
“and is bent on capturing you. Believe me, he has the money and the resources to do just that.”
“Don’t be fooled by my appearance. I might look easy on so many levels, especially in this outfit,” I mused, “but I’m not. If I don’t want to be caught, I won’t.”
“Your confidence is commendable, but it’s going to get you killed,” warned Maximus. “Believe me, I know. I’ve caught many criminals with that same attitude. They get too cocky for their own good and make mistakes.”
So he was a cop. “I’m not being cocky.” I stood up. “I’m just saying that this is my problem and I’ll handle it on my own.”
“Even if you don’t have to?” asked Maximus, as I walked toward the door.
Sighing, I turned around. “Look, I certainly appreciate the offer, I really do. But, I’ll be fine.”
“At least do us a favor and disappear,” said Aiden. “Get out of town before they find you.”
“I’m planning on it,” I admitted. “By the way, how did you two know where to find me?”
“Your partner, Alex Shafer,” said Maximus. “I take it he didn’t call you to tell you we’d be[…]”
“started on stock options. Please.”
Aiden chuckled. “I’ve helped you, haven’t I?”
“Yes, and for that I’m very grateful,” replied Maximus.
“So, when did you talk to Alex?” I asked, changing the subject. I had no interest in talking about stocks, bonds, or anything financial.
“About thirty minutes ago. He said you’d be doing a job here,” replied Maximus.
I dialed Alex’s number, but he didn’t answer. Sighing, I sent him a text, telling him to call me. Then I slipped my phone back into my purse. “Well, I wish I could say it was a pleasure meeting the both you. I’m sure under different circumstances,” I smiled wickedly, “the pleasure would have be all mine.”
Andrew ‘s eyes roved over my body and he grinned. “Oh, lass, I doubt that. I’m pretty sure that the pleasure would have been mutual.”
Laughing, Maximus stood up and held out his card. “In all seriousness, please give me a call if you need help.”
I took it. “Thank you. Detective Maximus Johnson, huh?”
“Call me Max.”
“Okay, Max. Thanks again.” My cell phone began to vibrate. I pulled it back out of my purse and noticed that Alex had sent me a[…]”























Sent from my iPhone
butterfly Aug 2017
dark blue silence perching in the nests
like an empty boat floating in the lazy seas
we found nest for our love-birds
but you left mine scarred and wounded

boat paddled to an island  
a home for our love-birds, untouched
but the birds were dying, you took yours
and left mine with scars and wounds

i lay my back on the grass, eyes closed  
with the nature that lasts
this fear of losing the birds squeezed my heart,
with doubts you left mine scarred and wounded

i'm scarred and wounded, yet
yet my love-bird sings
the poetry
we roved
Echoes from the Heart
kelvin mungai Nov 2015
that night we met you smiled at me
right under the glare of a full moon miles away
the swells on your chest and the sweet smell
of your skin scent  sent jolts through my spine
i wanted to bolt but your crystal clear eyes hypnotized me
you swayed your hips provocatively as you made your way down
the stairs  i couldn't tear my eyes from your stare
it was LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

     i was ready to share my world with you
when your knitted words  convinced me i was
your knight in shining armor
under the light of the moon you vowed
i was gonna be your last king  
and that our relationship would be everlasting
that is all i wanted to hear i moved near you
lust made your face glow with wants  to be satisfied
i kissed you and my hand roved below your waist
IT WAS *** AT FIRST NIGHT

i didn't like how you talked in suspense
behind the veil of your language i could sense
betrayal
you painted my heart with pain
it was plain that hurting me was your plan
"i have died every day waiting for you to change"
i couldn't spare you a fight today only to die tomorrow
WE BROKE UP AT OUR FIRST FIGHT
Here in the absolute,
I stand at, shoot at
wagon wheels on wagon trains that roll
across the open plains.

I am the Monarch,a butterfly who
watches as the time and
world go by.

In the absolute
it's not who or what you are or
where you've been,what you've seen,
some liken it unto a dream.

Not so.

I have roved around infinity
met myself and talked,,together
we have orbited the brightest star.

In the maximum the absolute
is where I rest my lazy eye,
watching with the good one as the
passing on goes by.

I am the tree,
the certainty of nature
running free,
even with a lazy eye,
can I not see the structure of me,
of I,

Atomically speaking,like the clock.
I am the minute after
the aftershock
the boom that you hear,
here in the
absolute.
kelvin mungai Oct 2015
am done being weak
it is time to wake up and speak
the shame has been consuming me
keeping this secret has been confusing me
am tired of people using me
that's why i would like to share my voice

i smelled your foul mouth
as you pinned me against the cold floor
your rough hands roved over my petite chest
i couldn't imagine what was there that aroused
your appetite
i was only eight years old
way too young to be your mate
but still you decided to choose my fate

i tried to cry for help
but your merciless pinch just made me yelp
you covered my mouth and unbuckled your belt
i closed my eyes and i heard the rip of cloth
i tried to fight but your grip drained my strength
you forced yourself into my innocence
the pin was so intense and i sobbed wondering
what did i do to deserve this.

with each ******
you shredded into pieces my trust
tears gracefully crawled my face
i prayed i could race to far place to hide from
this disgrace
excruciating pain took residence in me
as my virginity blood stained my purity
because of you i hate all men
because of you i walk alone donned in a suit of shame
of all crimes commited  against against a person ****
is one that leaves a person feeling the most violated
i write this poem in a female persona trying to bring about
what females go through i hope you will all share my voice
and stop **** and fight for the girl child
thunder rolled in from
the south east
it roved as a feral
untamed beast

creatures took to
haven's secure
this tempest was bringing
a wild demure

volley after volley of thunder
over the terrain
within a short while
there'd be a torrent of rain

drops falling from the laden clouds
onto the landscape
covering it in the soaking
endowment's drape  

the countryside infused
with a drenching drink
quelling the thirst
of its dry unfilled sink

soils bereft of dampness
for such a long time
joyous were the sounds
of the wetting's chime

the canon's blast heralded
in the afternoon sky
affording a downpour
as it passed by
TURNED
Oh, I want to turn
but I know not too
I want to dance
in a life of romance
among the rain
but all I got was the pains
Oh, how my mind
keeps playing back to those
sad lonely days
I know not to turn
while the cold autumn wind blow
I turned
You had been standing there tall
You taken me in your heart
we turned
we dance among the rain
we dance in a life time of romance
that has roved the pains
of those sad lonely days
Oh, We turned for Love
Turned I 'm glad we did.

Poetic Judy Emery © 1980
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
The Queen Of Darken Dreams
Megan Sherman Dec 2016
I loved him, and I live to tell
That I soared angelic and fathomed hell
Musing on my Love
And now I am most different
For that feeling most magnificent
On which I roved

And now I'm banished from his care
It was perfect to dwell in there
To be brushed by generosity
But he's baffled by my moods
And my foulest words, so crude
And we're destined to dwell in animosity
Megan Sherman Aug 2017
During the days of Peace and Love
Music charmed the Heart - it moved
Passionate spirits roamed - roved
Nobody had a point to prove
During the days of Peace and Love
All prayed - in their dismay
To mercy - pity - from above
Wishing - for fortified day
Emmett Apr 2020
I saw a picture today. This is what it felt like:

Darkness shattering across my heart
Splinters left for me to pick up

Because each smile you give to someone else leaves me wondering if I was really enough

You roved the landscape of that darkness
But never with me

You left that broken glass for me to clean up
Saying simply “I might”
Starlight Dec 2018
he
didn't like the way she had methodically seduced him

– as if he were simply a puzzle
to mechanically solve and destroy
like clockwork
tick tock tick tock
and now you use your tongue
to become the catalyst of his undoing -

then shoved him,
harshly
(the ice cold feel
of frozen wall
still hung
in phantom touches
against his bridged back)
kissed him,
roved his mouth,
placed her tongue in his lips,
under his tongue,
on his cheek,
under his skin,
under his flesh,
under his bones,
in his bones,
in his heart,
in his brain,
can't get rid of her,
and marked him.

He didn't like the feeling of being prey,
of preyness

— The End —