thanks, moonbird:)Quote:
Originally Posted by moonbird
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thanks, moonbird:)Quote:
Originally Posted by moonbird
She's not too happy, checks the time,
Assumes her man again is late.
She knows too well the reason why.
She'll leave before she needs to cry.
Should he get back, he'll have to wait.
Pillowed pouter checks her stop
watch, as time ticks off the clock
she waits to hear his knocking
at the door.
Arms that rest beside her show
she brought the pool boy home
moments before the door opens slowly
left unlocked,
to make sure he knows
who she's lying there for.
The Tryst
She’s fixed up her hair and makeup so precisely
Slipped on something sexy to lure him in—
She’s bathed in perfume and oh, she smells so nicely
Great expectations, she’s longing for him
But now the hours are passing so swiftly,
She pouts at her watch wondering just where he is
She carefully checks all preparations to make sure they’re classy
It just isn’t like him to make her wait like this
The watch on her wrist tells her he’s not coming
But she’s a hopeless romantic, here she goes again
She thinks about calling him, her pout turns to frowning
She wonders why angels fall in love with bad men
Suddenly the phone rings and she answers it breathlessly
It’s the hospital calling, he’s so close to death
He was in such a hurry that he drove recklessly
But he tells her he loves her with his dying breath
She gets out of bed and dresses with her mind spinning
She’s got to see him, if for one final time
Their love started with fire, who could have guessed the ending
Now she has a heartache to last for all time
The funeral is passed, she stands at his graveside
Black mourning clothes replace her sexy nightgown
She tosses a rose as tears flow from her sad eyes
Maybe love will be lucky if there’s a next time around
Pendragon
© Tuesday, March 15, 2011
11:54
She fixes her eyeliner,
coldly aware that it
doesn't need fixing.
11:55
She kisses
the back of her hand,
wipes the lipstick
on the pillowcase.
11:56
She knows
that she looks good
and catwalks
in front of the mirror,
a hand on her thigh.
11:57
She picks up a paperback
reads a word or two
and puts it back.
11:58
She spritzes
a little more
Lust
by Beyonce
onto her shoulders.
11:59
She stares at her
wristwatch
with silent desperation
knowing
once midnight strikes
he won't be coming.
Is she lonesome tonight
Or is she lustful?
I've got a feeling her man may not show up,
For he's distrustful.
Hmm... What's happened to mazHur?
Yeah, the contest awaits his judgment.Quote:
Originally Posted by moonbird
Hello all
I am sorry for delay but here I am at your 'service':)
My thanks to all participants. All the submissions are good but have almost the same flair.
In fact the girl has lost her sexual desire and is not interested in having sex. She looks at the watch to check the time her man would come but she isn't in mood for sex at all!!
Keeping in view similar theme adapted by most contestants I feel Pen has done pretty well to be declared the Winner!! These lines are quite near my concept and make a good ending.
Their love started with fire, who could have guessed the ending
Now she has a heartache to last for all time
The funeral is passed, she stands at his graveside
Black mourning clothes replace her sexy nightgown
She tosses a rose as tears flow from her sad eyes
Maybe love will be lucky if there’s a next time around
Congrats Pen.
regards
Maz
Thank you, Maz! In view of the widespread tornado disaster, even destroyed a town 20 miles from the house here, I thought this would be appropriate. May20th is the deadline
http://www.highestfive.com/wp-conten...l-disaster.jpg
Well done Pen! I'll kick things off...
Aiolia
The winds are calm over Aiolia.
Its mountains are of bronze;
they glitter in the sun,
shimmering caps to distort the truth
shrouded beneath.
The waves crash like thunder
on the milky-white cliffs
of Aiolia; beneath their blank sanctuary
sound the wails of the Harpies
the roars of the storming Daimones
as they rattle their chairs
and scream in unheeded anguish.
It is on this night
as a chill rustles the trees
that the lord of this land
a rusted key in hand
unlatches the door
releases them from their
strangling shackles
and tosses his creatures out
to breathe the open air.
The swift-flying Okypete
tastes the dewy night first
and as she dances
twirling under moonless skies
she wails in delirious bliss
and her winds wail back
twisting round her ankles
churning the deep black clouds.
It is not long before
the others have joined in
and their fluttering wings
send bitter chills
to the land below,
and then they are all spinning
round, round, round
mixing the air
and the night grows darker still
and in the skies over Aiolia
it begins to rain.
Nature's Wrath
Empowered
with your Mother's wrath
frightful at the height
of your beauty
tension mounts
until it breaks
descending
like an avenging
angel.
Suspended
in awe
and torn with secret longing
to be pulled within
the embrace
of your anger
and swept along
upon your destructive tide.
Heartbeats quicken
and your force
vibrates throughout
my bones
breathtaking
I long for the serenity
which waits in
your core
while the world quakes
before your vengeful
kiss.
Blown Away
The winds will blow and sweep away
The fancy dreams with which we play.
With what remains, we'll start again.
So let the dreaming time begin
Though winds of time will always win.
A multi-faced genie art it
Calamity can find its own way
It can rent the sky asunder
Or rip off the earth
Turn it upside down
Create hell on earth
Punch the sky on nose
at any time any place
at its own convenience
Or perhaps it has the means
And knows the method
To sneak in at the weakest spot
This universe may pose her?
Whatever, but the genie of calamity
And destruction is quite adept
At pouncing upon the first opportunity
To relieve itself from her den
And create havoc and fear
To the shock of humans and all alive
Very much like the Genie locked up in an stray bottle
Found by Aladin at some shore
And whom Aladin released from the
dark prison by opening up the bottle cap
Whoosh!! How that genie blew out of the bottle
Like a tornado blooming into a mushroom
Of smoke and smudge
Touching the limits of the high sky!
Then suddenly turning into a humongous genie
To the utter shock and surprise of Aladin!
Tornadoes are like genies, generally bad,
Unlike the good genie which Aladin rescued
From the womb of a bottle
Not one such genie takes abode
In the uterus of the scorched Earth
Or over the ever-hanging sheet of sky
When Genies from these get liberated
They only tend to bring
Wide spread devastation and destruction
Calamity, catastrophe and misfortune
Kiss of Death
To whoever whatever comes within their range.
Who Is This Poet ?
Who is this poet
whose pen of
seeming wrath
cuts swath through
countryside
filling its nib
from havoc wrought
as it glides and
dips like a glede
hunting prey ?
Who is this poet
that I might curse
his drunkard's walk
that leads him
astray writing
misery in his wake
cryptically destroying
one yet forsaking
another fffffortissimo
in his moment ?
Who is this poet
whose sway o'er
earth and heav'n
esteeming
men as naught
has his way with
no dearth of terror
in his avatar
and signature
signed death ?
:tailor STATELY