And the word is...

[symphony]

In morning’s last darkness I found you out
on your way home, under the full moon,
through a shroud of misty air. You did not know
it was me, the soft white night that enveloped you,
lying moist against your vibrant skin; it was I,
who could not speak, who drifted lightly to your lips
and gently rested there, then played and sparkled in your hair.
Caught within your motion, for the moment captive there.
Unseen you carried me inside your house, and I watched you
take petal from petal of clothing and could say nothing,
and could no longer touch you, could give no sign of love
you would see, but for one small tear, unnoticed on a chair.

Later, as you slept, I moved, silently, a thief enthralled,
through your room, feeling the residual warmth of your
clothing, touching what you hold dear, cherishing
each precious item as do you, becoming for the moment
the enveloped, letting you surround me as I had you.
For hours, hovering above the floor, so close with the fragrance
you had worn, like light against the morning breeze, I danced.
And then, glorious moment, I lay beside you sleeping, where
by your heat I lost all form and melded into you,
and slept as you slept, and breathed as you breathed,
then, in the fading darkness, became the fabric of your dreams

I remember this....
It was the first poem from you that I saw in this forum. Loved this then. Love this now.

[qimissung]

o
Fog

the cold damp touching
my hair and cheeks
like the moist fingers of small ghosts
awakened at bedtime and longing
for reassurance

lying
quiescently, subversively,
like an evil dragon,
coiled in a corner
awaiting his prey

swirling like smoke
from a chimney,
it wraps around my ankles
like a slimy monster from
from a childhood nightmare

shivering, I pull up my collar,
and hurry home to you


qimissung
May 25, 2008

Sorry for any confusion; I was just trying to pay a compliment, but your poems are absolutely beautiful. q

[Pendragon]

Fog

The white lady caresses
Her lover, the Earth—
Snuggling him in soft blankets
That hide their intimacy…


Pendragon
©5/30/08

[ampoule]

Wow, Pen, that is very very good.
I like yours too, qimi.

[qimissung]

Thank you, ampoule.
Excellent metaphor, Pendragon.

[ampoule]

NEW WORD....PASTORAL

[Pendragon]

Pastoral

The shepherd guards his tiny flock—
Is there a wolf among the sheep?
His gaze flies across the wooly dreadlocks,
Is there a set there that aren’t skin-deep?
A wolf within a coat of sheep’s wool,
Is still a wolf, a ravening eerie beast—
No place at all here for canine drool,
He must be certain that there is no doggy feast!
But the night is calm, and the sheep are safe,
No wolves around to cause them pain—
The shepherd collects a wayward waif,
Cuddles up the lamb and goes to sleep again…
The shepherd should sleep very deep:
It’s no problem for him to count sheep!

Pendragon
6/5/08


The word is: Fear

[ampoule]

Very good, Pen. When I was in a Disciple I class, we had to take bible passages from the old testament and tell what we saw, smelled, heard, tasted and touched. It was a neat exercise and your poem reminded me of that.

[Gilead]

Fear

She blinks, knuckles alabaster
White against her dark clothing
She breathes out
Tendrils of fear, twirling, wafting
Psychedelic in all their glory
Rivaled only by the dark fog spilling over
Outside. Watchful, with eyes
Replicate in the darkness
Waiting for your next mistake

[ampoule]

Very nice Gilead. I would suggest you post this under Personal Poetry so more people can see it. This thread is considered a 'poetry game or contest' and the current word is pastoral. I just don't want your beautiful poem to get lost. Welcome to the LitNet.

[Gilead]

Sorry about that, ampoule. A misunderstanding on my part.

Pastoral

It is twelve in the afternoon:
The clouds are docile and
Lazy in drifting where the wind may blow
To set themselves afloat in the sea of
Magnolia

It is twelve in the afternoon:
The trees stir and
Murmur in anticipation
Of the sun that will cast their shadows
Empty

It is twelve in the afternoon:
The sheep whisper and
Talk amongst them
Placidly waiting for the kill
Still

It is twelve in the afternoon:
The day is hazy and
The sun is high
Nothing moves and all things hang
Uncertain

[CdnReader]

^^^ This is beautiful, Gilead!! Welcome to the LitNet Poetry Forum.

[ampoule]

Absolutely no need to apologize to me Gilead. I just want everyone to see your wonderful poems. You have captured that moment so vividly.

[Pendragon]

Absolutely no need to apologize to me Gilead. I just want everyone to see your wonderful poems. You have captured that moment so vividly.

Very lovely poems, Gilead!

Um. Amp, did you miss that I changed the word to "Fear"? Gilead was right the first time! Of course, then we would've missed a great poem...

[Gilead]

Thank you all for your encouragement!