Poetry competition CLOSED 3rd December 2014 11:18pm
WINNER
Anonymous
Anonymous
RUNNER-UP:
Ghoulie
near and dear
Broken wings was written while homeless in New York in the dead of winter.While I sat watching everyone pass me by, these words fell on to my paper. I do hope you like it.
"Broken wings"
An attempt to fly
With broken wings
I leap with hope
Attempting to fix things
You cannot fly with broken wings
But I try anyway
Anything is better
Then living this life
Family and friends
Forgive my selfishness
I was never meant to be an angel
Spiraling
I close my eyes
I circle downwards
To my demise
They say you can't die in dreams
But what kind of reality is this?
Spiraling with broken wings
I flap to ascend
I hold my breath as I try to make them work
My wings have been clipped
And I can't fly
Something touches my soul
Something ignites within me
No power surges through me
Just acceptance
They would call me a fallen angel
They would tell me
I was meant for so much more
It was all a lie
I can feel sadness grip my soul
As I fall
And I have no regrets
I just wanted to live
They say you can sleep
But it doesn't mean you're dreaming
So you can breathe
But it doesn't mean you're living
I just want it to end
And so it shall
Broken wings...
Carry me
Let me go
Let me truly fly away
"Broken wings"
An attempt to fly
With broken wings
I leap with hope
Attempting to fix things
You cannot fly with broken wings
But I try anyway
Anything is better
Then living this life
Family and friends
Forgive my selfishness
I was never meant to be an angel
Spiraling
I close my eyes
I circle downwards
To my demise
They say you can't die in dreams
But what kind of reality is this?
Spiraling with broken wings
I flap to ascend
I hold my breath as I try to make them work
My wings have been clipped
And I can't fly
Something touches my soul
Something ignites within me
No power surges through me
Just acceptance
They would call me a fallen angel
They would tell me
I was meant for so much more
It was all a lie
I can feel sadness grip my soul
As I fall
And I have no regrets
I just wanted to live
They say you can sleep
But it doesn't mean you're dreaming
So you can breathe
But it doesn't mean you're living
I just want it to end
And so it shall
Broken wings...
Carry me
Let me go
Let me truly fly away
Unspoken Words
Never speaking the thoughts that were infecting your mind
Unaware that those I had were the same provocative kind
Devouring my soul with that sweet scent sending the body no other choice
Blurring my visions with your sensual erotic voice
The devious nature in the way that you spoke would make me melt from its potion
Finally realizing that your eyes were dancing on my skin causing the most poetic commotion
Wanting our lips to meet again the dreamy way that they had
Causing me to want and crave you so undeniably bad
The intentions of your lust were controlling my thoughts and their complexity
Becoming a weak slave to your every desire and sexuality
Take me in your arms and make me a believer in your touch
Feeling your sensations have caused a feverish shiver in such
That you and I will no longer be able to hide
The devilish compulsions for the other kept deep down inside
The words were never even spoken only impulsively glared
Looking into the other one's compelling soul was only dared
For it would devour your heart and every thought so absurd
I will always hold dear and cherish forever every unspoken word
This was written for someone special. It hangs in their home. :)
Never speaking the thoughts that were infecting your mind
Unaware that those I had were the same provocative kind
Devouring my soul with that sweet scent sending the body no other choice
Blurring my visions with your sensual erotic voice
The devious nature in the way that you spoke would make me melt from its potion
Finally realizing that your eyes were dancing on my skin causing the most poetic commotion
Wanting our lips to meet again the dreamy way that they had
Causing me to want and crave you so undeniably bad
The intentions of your lust were controlling my thoughts and their complexity
Becoming a weak slave to your every desire and sexuality
Take me in your arms and make me a believer in your touch
Feeling your sensations have caused a feverish shiver in such
That you and I will no longer be able to hide
The devilish compulsions for the other kept deep down inside
The words were never even spoken only impulsively glared
Looking into the other one's compelling soul was only dared
For it would devour your heart and every thought so absurd
I will always hold dear and cherish forever every unspoken word
This was written for someone special. It hangs in their home. :)
- Angel of Black Feathers -
A Tribute to My Most Beloved Muse…
The winds of autumn hath been fierce of late,
Echoing across New England’s countryside…
As, for calmer days, one is of a mind to wait.
So here I sit, pen in hand, where I doth abide,
Trying to find my muse and write my verses…
And an angel comes into my mind unexpected.
Such art, no bard or poet in truth rehearses…
It is spontaneous, and in inspiration perfected!
How to describe my angel, who inspires me?
She is not blonde, and fair of skin or of hair…
But she is fairer in mine eyes and in company,
Her charms art abundant, her beauty so rare!
I care not if others claim she is not as grand…
As the women in their fantasies, and dreams,
For to me she is the fairest in this or any land.
More pleasant than the softest forest streams!
She is rare of wit and charm and oh so sweet,
Her hair is black like a raven’s ebon feathers.
I find myself counting the hours until we meet,
Thinking of all the joys we will know together.
That I might behold her rich, soft brown eyes,
And see in them the light of eternal adoration!
Fairer to me than the darkness of night skies,
Filled with stars to smile down in celebration.
Her light is of her radiant spirit, fairer by far…
Than is the glow of the precious moon, itself!
Each day I feel elation, when we two confer,
And, she is a blessing unto me, such wealth…
Beyond the treasures of the ages as hoarded,
By those who know not the value of virtues!
Her treasure, is her heart, of purity afforded,
Like none I hath known, in many centuries…
As: no royalty couldst so envision in splendor.
Her skin, is not the porcelain of a pale doll…
It is richer, more gentle, more real and pure,
Because it is her own, and so thus I do extol:
The perfection of her as the Goddess’s own!
I told her this when last we spoke, that I saw,
In her, such divine beauty as herein is shown.
To me she is an angel, and such is her glow…
That I close mine eyes, seeing her as vividly,
As any visions of glory sent by gods on high.
I am happy she chose as part of her destiny,
The love I do bear her, enough to make sigh:
The fair folk of the worlds beyond this Earth,
Who sing all their days of glories long past…
Knowing nothing of glory, or glory’s worth!
Oh how they must sigh, all who eternally last:
Cherubs on clouds, who must smile on her…
That beautiful flower like unto not any other!
What other, couldst such loving verses stir?
I would needs must, mine eyes to so cover,
Were, I to behold greater beauty than she…
But there is no need to seek after any such.
I am so happy with my angel, so blessedly!
And so I pen in her honor, and thus touch,
The face of my angel in my mind’s eye thus:
Gently, softly, tenderly and with reverence!
No bard couldst do other, and so I must…
Sing here of my muse, in all of her radiance.
I am inspired, and in my inspiration I pen…
I pen with fire, with glory, and with all zeal!
She is, my contemplation; she: is my Zen…
Only far better, for she is divinity made real.
Oh angel, never think that thou art lesser…
Than those, whom society calls beauteous!
More splendid art thy black raven feathers,
Than the white of the angels called glorious.
They hold not a candle to thee, never shall,
And if thou art a fallen angel, as I am also…
Then let us fly together, even if we two fall!
Better thy company, than Heaven’s woe…
For Heaven to me is not paradise without,
Thee at my side, to share in pleasant times!
So smile, sweet one, and so do not pout…
For just as I honor thee here in my rhymes,
We shall walk together, soon, so laughing!
So singing, that people will think us mad…
As in happy times we will both be basking.
So smile my sweet one, and never feel sad!
Soon thou wilt see the rain and the trees…
Of thy dreams, and thy hand clasping mine,
Will be warm even in the winter’s breeze!
It shall not be so long, sweet angel sublime.
No more, the heat and the fellness of cities,
Nor the malice of others who hounded ye!
Soon will come the day for thee to seize…
And, at my loving side, thou shall fly free.
We will fly, together!
Two angels: of black feather.
To a garden containing two flowers!
Mine, a black rose of night’s own powers,
The other blooming like the sun, brilliantly…
A flower just for thee: a perfect Tiger Lily!
A Tribute to My Most Beloved Muse…
The winds of autumn hath been fierce of late,
Echoing across New England’s countryside…
As, for calmer days, one is of a mind to wait.
So here I sit, pen in hand, where I doth abide,
Trying to find my muse and write my verses…
And an angel comes into my mind unexpected.
Such art, no bard or poet in truth rehearses…
It is spontaneous, and in inspiration perfected!
How to describe my angel, who inspires me?
She is not blonde, and fair of skin or of hair…
But she is fairer in mine eyes and in company,
Her charms art abundant, her beauty so rare!
I care not if others claim she is not as grand…
As the women in their fantasies, and dreams,
For to me she is the fairest in this or any land.
More pleasant than the softest forest streams!
She is rare of wit and charm and oh so sweet,
Her hair is black like a raven’s ebon feathers.
I find myself counting the hours until we meet,
Thinking of all the joys we will know together.
That I might behold her rich, soft brown eyes,
And see in them the light of eternal adoration!
Fairer to me than the darkness of night skies,
Filled with stars to smile down in celebration.
Her light is of her radiant spirit, fairer by far…
Than is the glow of the precious moon, itself!
Each day I feel elation, when we two confer,
And, she is a blessing unto me, such wealth…
Beyond the treasures of the ages as hoarded,
By those who know not the value of virtues!
Her treasure, is her heart, of purity afforded,
Like none I hath known, in many centuries…
As: no royalty couldst so envision in splendor.
Her skin, is not the porcelain of a pale doll…
It is richer, more gentle, more real and pure,
Because it is her own, and so thus I do extol:
The perfection of her as the Goddess’s own!
I told her this when last we spoke, that I saw,
In her, such divine beauty as herein is shown.
To me she is an angel, and such is her glow…
That I close mine eyes, seeing her as vividly,
As any visions of glory sent by gods on high.
I am happy she chose as part of her destiny,
The love I do bear her, enough to make sigh:
The fair folk of the worlds beyond this Earth,
Who sing all their days of glories long past…
Knowing nothing of glory, or glory’s worth!
Oh how they must sigh, all who eternally last:
Cherubs on clouds, who must smile on her…
That beautiful flower like unto not any other!
What other, couldst such loving verses stir?
I would needs must, mine eyes to so cover,
Were, I to behold greater beauty than she…
But there is no need to seek after any such.
I am so happy with my angel, so blessedly!
And so I pen in her honor, and thus touch,
The face of my angel in my mind’s eye thus:
Gently, softly, tenderly and with reverence!
No bard couldst do other, and so I must…
Sing here of my muse, in all of her radiance.
I am inspired, and in my inspiration I pen…
I pen with fire, with glory, and with all zeal!
She is, my contemplation; she: is my Zen…
Only far better, for she is divinity made real.
Oh angel, never think that thou art lesser…
Than those, whom society calls beauteous!
More splendid art thy black raven feathers,
Than the white of the angels called glorious.
They hold not a candle to thee, never shall,
And if thou art a fallen angel, as I am also…
Then let us fly together, even if we two fall!
Better thy company, than Heaven’s woe…
For Heaven to me is not paradise without,
Thee at my side, to share in pleasant times!
So smile, sweet one, and so do not pout…
For just as I honor thee here in my rhymes,
We shall walk together, soon, so laughing!
So singing, that people will think us mad…
As in happy times we will both be basking.
So smile my sweet one, and never feel sad!
Soon thou wilt see the rain and the trees…
Of thy dreams, and thy hand clasping mine,
Will be warm even in the winter’s breeze!
It shall not be so long, sweet angel sublime.
No more, the heat and the fellness of cities,
Nor the malice of others who hounded ye!
Soon will come the day for thee to seize…
And, at my loving side, thou shall fly free.
We will fly, together!
Two angels: of black feather.
To a garden containing two flowers!
Mine, a black rose of night’s own powers,
The other blooming like the sun, brilliantly…
A flower just for thee: a perfect Tiger Lily!
Let Me Kiss You
I found mine
Morrissey did sing
for me
alone
but I give to you
my heart
to you.
Let me kiss upon patient lips
waiting arms around my soul,
would you hold me closer still.
Soon come
love heart beats,
racing around my tiny frame,
till slowing once more from
your touch desired.
Floating on hushaby words
adrift with your embraces
calming of thought
swaying in optimism
till the sun rises
I'm aglow once more
healing with the I love You's
falling from your mouth with each
new dawn.
Lost but now found
I found mine
In you.
I found mine
Morrissey did sing
for me
alone
but I give to you
my heart
to you.
Let me kiss upon patient lips
waiting arms around my soul,
would you hold me closer still.
Soon come
love heart beats,
racing around my tiny frame,
till slowing once more from
your touch desired.
Floating on hushaby words
adrift with your embraces
calming of thought
swaying in optimism
till the sun rises
I'm aglow once more
healing with the I love You's
falling from your mouth with each
new dawn.
Lost but now found
I found mine
In you.
Daddy...
I Wrote This Based off of My Dad, he Isn't the best.. At all.
So this is based off of Him.
Daddy,
Daddy, Help Me Kill myself Tonight,
It Will be Quick, Fast with a Sharp Knife,
Daddy Put down Your Ciggaretes, Put down the Remote,
And Maybe tell Your Own Fucking Daughter Not to Slit her Own Throat,
I Know you don't Love Me,
I Know you don't Care,
So don't act Like You do,
Daddy Just Admit It!
You Hate Me!
Daddy, Daddy, Help Me Kill Myself tonight,
It'll Be Quick, Almost Painless, with a Sharp Knife.
Daddy.. Put down the Ciggaretes, Put Down The Can of Coke, Put down that Fucking Remote,
And Tell Me you don't Hate Me..
I Wrote This Based off of My Dad, he Isn't the best.. At all.
So this is based off of Him.
Daddy,
Daddy, Help Me Kill myself Tonight,
It Will be Quick, Fast with a Sharp Knife,
Daddy Put down Your Ciggaretes, Put down the Remote,
And Maybe tell Your Own Fucking Daughter Not to Slit her Own Throat,
I Know you don't Love Me,
I Know you don't Care,
So don't act Like You do,
Daddy Just Admit It!
You Hate Me!
Daddy, Daddy, Help Me Kill Myself tonight,
It'll Be Quick, Almost Painless, with a Sharp Knife.
Daddy.. Put down the Ciggaretes, Put Down The Can of Coke, Put down that Fucking Remote,
And Tell Me you don't Hate Me..
Currency and Confessions
Sheer scarves cover the
lamp beside the bed as
daylight slips through
the open French doors
igniting walls of burgundy.
Her hair fans out on pillows,
eggshell limbs are caught in loose binds.
She is the red of womanhood,
her breasts, alert gazelles.
Guileless eyes the shade of currency,
her mind becomes his confessional
and there is no sin grave enough.
Sheer scarves cover the
lamp beside the bed as
daylight slips through
the open French doors
igniting walls of burgundy.
Her hair fans out on pillows,
eggshell limbs are caught in loose binds.
She is the red of womanhood,
her breasts, alert gazelles.
Guileless eyes the shade of currency,
her mind becomes his confessional
and there is no sin grave enough.
wintering echoes
Creaking door knob shivers
longer than expectations of a vagabond mind
Ringing in that unworthy-of-attention stale default frequencies
Ears much for pierce erupt disruptive in red flag clogs to any new phenomenon
Hands hot-pressing the Monday blue silks prove cleverer
Runs in to lower the lever of the ghostly chill arrivals
this still window slabs dotted in comic pixelating dots of it's irony
ends up bleak in hazy lights, regresses amplifying yearns in dimming ambiance
whirlwinds diminish to narrow civic streamlines, in welcomes of largely unwelcoming
Clueless nymphal populace clad in tender paleness
runs in to some squashy deathblows
A generation’s collective pain amounts nil
as brittle cases open up like vast hells in choking sick smells
Clothes in a pile to wrap up the only steam show
a lukewarm response against cold waves comes to a shut down
Feverish wakings in a suppress now, that 650mg her necessary evil
Now-a-days, only he the silent conqueror can make her in an effable effluence
not a second of midnight goes in wasteful thinking
straight forward takes are their mutual charm
Their white rivers of anonymous origin in unison
- A Symphony of Words at Play -
Words art like unto music, lilting and lovely,
When committed to verses befitting a bard…
Of skill and craft, capable of blessed dignity.
So much power in the play of pretty word!
But none so fair as the artist’s perfect muse.
She is the angel that is the artist’s inspiration,
Without which even divine words may lose…
The very fire that makes them a celebration!
But in my muse’s loveliness my words alight,
Lifting them to Heaven in such a magical rite!
A symphony of words at play, playing on…
Bringing even unto winter, a springtime sun.
Ah, how time makes one ponder such fancies!
But, time hath not nearly as much power thus,
As love, which creates far, far fonder fantasies…
Which come into the mind and heart, as must.
I ponder the seasons of old, and yet to come,
For, of old, in other lives and times long past…
I remember knowing her, and having such fun!
Dancing in meadows, hand in hand, running fast.
Singing together, putting flowers into her hair…
Caressing her face and telling her about things,
Matters both mundane and oft beyond compare:
Which she knew not, but which wisdom brings.
Was I thy mentor, even then, and much more?
Close as kin can be, two souls bonding so well,
For each contains magic, precious and grand…
Magic beyond that which creates a mere spell!
Our magic runs deeper beyond aught planned,
Even by divine forces that art oft so powerful.
For magic and love hath a power of their own,
And that power is both heavenly and beautiful.
Of all the lilies of the meadowlands and fields,
Across the seas of grass of summertime bright…
Only one, unto heavenly glories, so well yields:
She is my Tiger Lily, which brings me delight!
Though winter be upon the land, in bleakness,
I still fell her beauty in my soul, and it is great!
Never call such sentiment as this a weakness,
For love and beauty art strong as castle gates!
I then think of the times to come, for us both…
Of dances yet to be danced in new meadows!
Of songs yet to be sung, of nigh angelic worth.
New flowers, new laughter and new shadows,
Beneath the moon, when the stars do emerge!
I hath been thy mentor, sister, and mother too,
And feel our old bonds, and our magic surge…
Unto new heights, of glory, as yet to so ensue.
Oh kindred spirit, soul of my soul, great muse!
Love hath such power, to shape all destinies…
As time, all around us thus eternally continues.
I am carried forth by many lovely pleasantries!
But none so fair as thy love, such rare treasure.
Thou hast ever offered it to me forever freely…
And, it hath ever brought me endless pleasure.
How bright is thy light, how it shines brilliantly!
Like none other I hath ever beheld in likeness,
For who else is like unto thee, and I, dearest?
We art two dark angels risen from darkness…
By the bonds we share, which make us blest!
Of all the lilies of the meadowlands and fields,
Across the seas of grass of summertime bright…
Only one, unto heavenly glories, so well yields:
She is my Tiger Lily, which brings me delight!
Though winter be upon the land, in bleakness,
I still fell her beauty in my soul, and it is great!
Never call such sentiment as this a weakness,
For love and beauty art strong as castle gates!
A mother’s delight, a sister’s joy, and more…
So many glories, thou dose upon me bestow!
Thou dost fill me with so much happy comfort,
And there is so much more, for us to know…
Of joy and love, and happiness and gladness.
So great, that right now as the snow is falling,
I feel warmth and not even a tinge of sadness.
It is like unto hearing the sweet angels calling!
I have heard thy call, sweet child of my heart,
And I call unto thee in turn, our voices ringing.
Our journey together hath begun with a start,
Harmonious and beautiful, like faeries singing!
Winter seems so far away in thinking of thee,
Though the snow is here, and the air is cold…
I canst not put to verse all that thou art to me.
For such words must be divine and also bold!
I canst only aspire to sing in such a fair way…
But sing I doth, and commit to verse my song.
For us I craft this symphony of words at play,
To delight thee like no other, my dearest one!
Words art like unto music, lilting and lovely,
When committed to verses befitting a bard…
Of skill and craft, capable of blessed dignity.
So much power in the play of pretty word!
But none so fair as the artist’s perfect muse.
She is the angel that is the artist’s inspiration,
Without which even divine words may lose…
The very fire that makes them a celebration!
But in my muse’s loveliness my words alight,
Lifting them to Heaven in such a magical rite!
A symphony of words at play, playing on…
Bringing even unto winter, a springtime sun.
Words art like unto music, lilting and lovely,
When committed to verses befitting a bard…
Of skill and craft, capable of blessed dignity.
So much power in the play of pretty word!
But none so fair as the artist’s perfect muse.
She is the angel that is the artist’s inspiration,
Without which even divine words may lose…
The very fire that makes them a celebration!
But in my muse’s loveliness my words alight,
Lifting them to Heaven in such a magical rite!
A symphony of words at play, playing on…
Bringing even unto winter, a springtime sun.
Ah, how time makes one ponder such fancies!
But, time hath not nearly as much power thus,
As love, which creates far, far fonder fantasies…
Which come into the mind and heart, as must.
I ponder the seasons of old, and yet to come,
For, of old, in other lives and times long past…
I remember knowing her, and having such fun!
Dancing in meadows, hand in hand, running fast.
Singing together, putting flowers into her hair…
Caressing her face and telling her about things,
Matters both mundane and oft beyond compare:
Which she knew not, but which wisdom brings.
Was I thy mentor, even then, and much more?
Close as kin can be, two souls bonding so well,
For each contains magic, precious and grand…
Magic beyond that which creates a mere spell!
Our magic runs deeper beyond aught planned,
Even by divine forces that art oft so powerful.
For magic and love hath a power of their own,
And that power is both heavenly and beautiful.
Of all the lilies of the meadowlands and fields,
Across the seas of grass of summertime bright…
Only one, unto heavenly glories, so well yields:
She is my Tiger Lily, which brings me delight!
Though winter be upon the land, in bleakness,
I still fell her beauty in my soul, and it is great!
Never call such sentiment as this a weakness,
For love and beauty art strong as castle gates!
I then think of the times to come, for us both…
Of dances yet to be danced in new meadows!
Of songs yet to be sung, of nigh angelic worth.
New flowers, new laughter and new shadows,
Beneath the moon, when the stars do emerge!
I hath been thy mentor, sister, and mother too,
And feel our old bonds, and our magic surge…
Unto new heights, of glory, as yet to so ensue.
Oh kindred spirit, soul of my soul, great muse!
Love hath such power, to shape all destinies…
As time, all around us thus eternally continues.
I am carried forth by many lovely pleasantries!
But none so fair as thy love, such rare treasure.
Thou hast ever offered it to me forever freely…
And, it hath ever brought me endless pleasure.
How bright is thy light, how it shines brilliantly!
Like none other I hath ever beheld in likeness,
For who else is like unto thee, and I, dearest?
We art two dark angels risen from darkness…
By the bonds we share, which make us blest!
Of all the lilies of the meadowlands and fields,
Across the seas of grass of summertime bright…
Only one, unto heavenly glories, so well yields:
She is my Tiger Lily, which brings me delight!
Though winter be upon the land, in bleakness,
I still fell her beauty in my soul, and it is great!
Never call such sentiment as this a weakness,
For love and beauty art strong as castle gates!
A mother’s delight, a sister’s joy, and more…
So many glories, thou dose upon me bestow!
Thou dost fill me with so much happy comfort,
And there is so much more, for us to know…
Of joy and love, and happiness and gladness.
So great, that right now as the snow is falling,
I feel warmth and not even a tinge of sadness.
It is like unto hearing the sweet angels calling!
I have heard thy call, sweet child of my heart,
And I call unto thee in turn, our voices ringing.
Our journey together hath begun with a start,
Harmonious and beautiful, like faeries singing!
Winter seems so far away in thinking of thee,
Though the snow is here, and the air is cold…
I canst not put to verse all that thou art to me.
For such words must be divine and also bold!
I canst only aspire to sing in such a fair way…
But sing I doth, and commit to verse my song.
For us I craft this symphony of words at play,
To delight thee like no other, my dearest one!
Words art like unto music, lilting and lovely,
When committed to verses befitting a bard…
Of skill and craft, capable of blessed dignity.
So much power in the play of pretty word!
But none so fair as the artist’s perfect muse.
She is the angel that is the artist’s inspiration,
Without which even divine words may lose…
The very fire that makes them a celebration!
But in my muse’s loveliness my words alight,
Lifting them to Heaven in such a magical rite!
A symphony of words at play, playing on…
Bringing even unto winter, a springtime sun.
Anonymous
The Waterwalker's Surprise
Knees to elbows, hiding face,
squat runner races with incoming waves,
sidestepping ghost crabs,
playfully nabs
as I grab long reeds blowing,
both knowing no wing but love’s.
"Wake up, Plover!
Rise up! Hover,
for the sun is in the nest
and your Waterwalker will not rest from wet battledance."
Passion cries on his sandstormed thighs
and against stift driftwood
bubble-rubbing,
opening my eyes.
Third Septarian's lightning charges my heart.
His artfully kneading fist draws me to lap favor,
savor fullness salt hard in foaming spiritrise.
"Wake UP, Lover!" my Marine Miracle cries.
Knees to elbows, hiding face,
squat runner races with incoming waves,
sidestepping ghost crabs,
playfully nabs
as I grab long reeds blowing,
both knowing no wing but love’s.
"Wake up, Plover!
Rise up! Hover,
for the sun is in the nest
and your Waterwalker will not rest from wet battledance."
Passion cries on his sandstormed thighs
and against stift driftwood
bubble-rubbing,
opening my eyes.
Third Septarian's lightning charges my heart.
His artfully kneading fist draws me to lap favor,
savor fullness salt hard in foaming spiritrise.
"Wake UP, Lover!" my Marine Miracle cries.
