poppies swaying, warm zephyr.
the poetry of your laughter,
loving call the robin seeks.
your body's pearly glow,
morning dew i must taste.
the essence of your state,
sweet, simple honey flow.
the fineness of your face,
moon of night, spell unfurls.
the secret of your curls,
black is night, deep is maze.
death fallen on your eyes,
fire burns, holy light.
your honor, sword of might,
justice swift, wrong it rights.
7 comments:
There were five poems below "Can't Tell Pleasure from Pain" That's what I was referring to. But thanks for your comment on that one!
Good, but illusioned, that sting is missing, seems like rather a tender Victorian poem, not apt with the name of the blog
your honor, sword of might,
justice swift, wrong it rights..
beautiful ending.
The transition from life and warmth to fire, death, and justice though a tad sudden, resonates the title of "love, avenging".
So gorgeous it aches. Reminds of someone I loved, someone who I let walk away from me before the sun rose in Catalonia. You are a like a cashmere blanket, T, thank you.
$/rovin/ i will bear your victorian tag with honour. thank you.
$/id/ vengeance is swift.
$/polar/ your words: warmth. thank you.~t~
hey Victorian lady u have vanished from blogging....hope not caught in the industrial revolution.......lol
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