There was grabbing of hairnecks egret craning
lips cracked desert dry
Starlight blue as watered milk
highlighting crenelated hair
battlements be damned
portcullis of ivory sheathed
moat eyes dangerous
Marble slabs nippled erect
chess boards played
with calculating digits
lance rigid and shielded
Forward boys
the dame distressed
Bend thy knee
upon the riced floor
and let thy blood
show thy virgin whore
as the night shall weep
the weep of mothers chore
Lift they sacred bosom
fount of purse and lip
and give to me
thy milk divine
the life of woman
the gift of witches nein
Crenel my Merlon
Shoulder my Sword
Give rise to the sun
Loin and lion thy courage
Lock my neck blonde
I lust my love
upon the rampart
pray for me
8 comments:
Splendid image, Trée, which becomes even more beautiful when one discovers your words which accompany it.
This image evokes for me, the elusive, which only the eyes are allowed to touch what is impenetrable. To go beyond us would imprison in our turn….
This is the story of the moth, attracted by the light of the fire, which approaches some more and more… The wings will be consumed in the fire or will be he able not cross the ultimate limiting ? ;)
Speldide Image, Trée, rendue encore plus belle avec les mots qui l'accompagne.
Cette image évoque pour moi l'insaisissable où seul le regard est autorisé à toucher ce qui est impénétrable. Aller au delà nous emprisonnerait à notre tour...
C'est l'histoire du papillon, attiré par la lumière du feu et qui s'en approche de plus en plus. Ses ailes finiront-elles par se consumer ou saura t-il ne pas franchir l'ultime limite ? ;)
Oups.... "Splendide Image" !
Petite faute d'orthographe .... En anglais tout va bien [ ;) or :-( ] mais en français plus rien ne va !!!
Oupsss ... " Splendide image" !Small spelling error. In English all goes well[ ;) or :-( ], but in French plus nothing does not go!!!
One word, for now, for the post entire
Specfrailingtacular!
Thank you ladies for your kind words.
A banquet of descriptive language, vivid and colourful of tone and of vision, and really I want to end the comment right there and delight wordlessly in phrases such as
Starlight blue as watered milk
highlighting crenelated hair
battlements be damned
portcullis of ivory sheathed
moat eyes dangerous
Reclining like a Greek goddess being fed succulent morsels of exotic fruit, majestic tapestries lining the walls, golden fountains tricking pleasingly, pure decadence, pleasure replete. So feels it to bury oneself in this extraordinary piece of writing.
Late hour, wordless delight aside, likely to be a B.
Ms Storm, this one falls into the Drunken Poetry box. I think the night belonged to Tequila and these words rose like the Phoenix from the Agave. :-D
Of course, any poem with my two favorite words (Crenel and Merlon) is one of my faves. Glad you liked it too. :-)
The fact that you get drunk and write words like...
I lust my love
upon the rampart
pray for me
...is quite endearing. It almost guarantees that one day, bright young things will sit in a classroom and learn your poetry from an enthusiastic professor :)
Isn't that a cool thought?
Jen, that is a very cool thought; and if such a thing were to happen, I'd gladly watch with angel's wings, and a pair of blue eyes, with a hint of gray, on my knee.
Creativity is a funny thing. Each spirit (wine, whiskey, tequila, vodka, rum, beer) seems to hold a key to a different room and they are, it seems, like paint brushes within my imagination. Thankfully, I have other brushes too, but on this night, these words, were written in the house of Agave. :-D
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