[Old Sarge]

Curling your fingers in auburn tresses,
the swirling of gowns and gossamer dresses,
from across the room, your sultry stance
compels me here, to The Poets' Dance!

Watch the coy eye as it lowers,
concealing the soul's own space of flowers,
smiting hearts with a smoking glance,
as I must hasten to the Poets' Dance!

I see the flush in your cheeks rise,
the starry mischief in your eyes,
the light and life of quick romance,
as my senses whirl in The Poets' Dance!

So come, dear Muse, share all your hoard!
Avast there, Sailor, and come aboard!
Alight, Dream-weaver, now 'tis your chance,
to bring your hearts to the Poets' Dance!

(c) 07-15-04 by JSR

[Darksheare]

My muse has flown.

[Soaring Feather]

Challenged the White Knight
gloved and mailed
dueling words to unveil
in twilight's magic hour
and maidens fair by the hour
struck by clocks on high tower

Winds blow cold, damp and mould,
covers castles stone and mortar old

And maidens dreams of love's sweet caress
twisting tresses laid upon her dresses
oh for love of one Black Knight
her dreams held taut in low candle light

Take me as I am
my whole and loving man
bound we two by the stars
whose velvet nights
show us Mars and wrap us
round each others heart
as woodbines grow in the dale
for we are one
not meant to part
soul lovers on our trek
riding comets to the brink
and drinking in celestial sights
on our heavenly bound flight

bentfeather