~The Dragon Flies' Lair~XVII~

January 9, 2005 | bentfeather and Poets of The Lair

[Soaring Feather]

My Dragon Fly and Me

If I could be a Dragon Fly
and wing my way through the sky
I would never be shy
just me and my Dragon Fly!

By moonlight we ride the wind
chase the comets tail for fun
by day we would hide from the sun
our fragile wings would come undone

On darkest nights we would use
fireflies as our guide
we would dip and we would glide
through the heavens open wide
and scatter diamonds in the night sky
my Dragon Fly and me...

And we would wing past our lovers
silent in the night...
to kiss their face in our flight
much to their surprise and delight
my Dragon Fly and me in sight...

Such a view do we share
away up here in the air
of breezes soft through our hair
my Dragon Fly and me a pair...

bentfeather©

[Soaring Feather]

Good evening, ms. marlowe.

Oh how I love Van Morrison. Thank You so much.

Hope you had a good day.

[Soaring Feather]

Hi LunaRed,

So sorry I just now discovered this work of yours. Thank You.

Very good lessons in your words.

[WayzataJOHNN]

A Universe of Two

Sweet hot passion fires her,
as if a blast furnace were within that silken smooth body,
straining to pull me even tighter,
as our nerves explode,
in frenzied chaotic lightening strikes of pleasure.

Nails trace scarlet tracks like steel spurs,
neither felt or cared about, our minds disembodied
as we nova like dying suns, ever brighter
on colliding orbits burning up our universe, in overload
leaving fragmented worlds in our sweat-soaked spiral, to far to measure.

Gasping for air between distant planets of reality and peace,
raging with our needs and desires powering us on,
setting fire to the edge of our realities,
and incinerating reason and will,
until we glow as if pure flame at the last.

That moment approaches, then passes like a comet’s strike at least,
shattering us into scintillating fragments at dawn,
each a dream, a thought, a memory glittering bright in tonality,
against the dark of our space so still,
until we fade from sight, the cataclysm past.

[WayzataJOHNN]

Remembering That Moment

Like a soft whisper in my mind,
she comes gentle as a summer’s breeze,
her image, a misty painting of sweet moments bound.

I can still see the way the wind lifted her hair,
like a caress from an invisible lover,
in softest adoration of her just then.

She is like the purest gold refined,
with eyes that, oh so gently, tease,
and lips I ache to kiss yet again, as these days go round.

I love the way her summer frock leaves her shoulders bare,
and the way she moves over the emerald clover’s cover,
in nimble, teasing play with such sweet ease again.

[WayzataJOHNN]

As Dawn Approaches

In a darkened room she lay sleeping, covers all askew,
her face in soft sweet repose, a smile touching there.
One hand flung across a pillow beside her head, ease imbued,
and one still tangled in the sheet from passion’s flare.

Total relaxation did she portray in such a wondrous way,
as if arranged by the ingenuity of a Master’s gifted hand.
Soon she will wake, and the tableau fade away for another day,
unaware of the staggering beauty she embodied in sleep so grand.

To her the world is just the world she knows, common in every way,
so she doesn’t know the extraordinary art that is her in private survey.
Only I know the wonder, in the quiet moments of this gallery before day,
here in the hush of our bedroom, watching her sleep, the sublime portrayed.

[LunaRed]

SPRING.....This is is the season of birth and plenty. The barn full of grain, The leaves green again, The mist of the clouds full with water. The children are singing, a lone robin winging, The wind on my cheek, The sun in my hair, O' what God has seen to share.

[SAMWolf]

Good Morning Everybody.

You Know The Drill
Click the pics

Coffee & Donuts

[SAMWolf]

Night Poem



There is nothing to be afraid of,
it is only the wind
changing to the east, it is only
your father the thunder
your mother the rain

In this country of water
with its beige moon damp as a mushroom,
its drowned stumps and long birds
that swim, where the moss grows
on all sides of the trees
and your shadow is not your shadow
but your reflection,

your true parents disappear
when the curtain covers your door.
We are the others,
the ones from under the lake
who stand silently beside your bed
with our heads of darkness.
We have come to cover you
with red wool,
with our tears and distant whispers.

You rock in the rain's arms,
the chilly ark of your sleep,
while we wait, your night
father and mother,
with our cold hands and dead flashlight,
knowing we are only
the wavering shadows thrown
by one candle, in this echo
you will hear twenty years later.

Margaret Atwood

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning, JOHNN!

Such a wonderful offering of poems this morning.

They are grand. Thank You.

Nice to see an old friend has crossed into the Lair's doors in the early morning hours.

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning, LunaRed!


Nice Spring poem.

Thank You.

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning, Sam.


Night Poem really a strange and intriguing work.

Love the graphic, too.

Good tunes this morning. Thanks for all.

[SAMWolf]

Hi Feather.

[Soaring Feather]

Touch Love

Nothing beyond moonfire

shocks his calm

tonight you'll long to look across planets

and touch love...

bentfeather
a/k/a MLH
Copyright © 2003
All Rights Reserved

[LunaRed]

TREE.....I climbed into those lofty arms and knew that I was free from harm................... They rocked me gently as a baby; would I come down; I answered maybe........................... I looked across the waving fields and fancied that I saw new hills. ..................................The breeze played laughter with my hair, If I were animal, this is my lair.............................. They rocked me gently as a baby, would I come down; I answered maybe.

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning, LunaRed.


Such a playful poem this morning! I love it.

Nice to see you are in the Lair when I come in. You have straightened things around a swept the threshold clean for a new day, thank you.

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning everyone.

[SAMWolf]

Good Morning Everybody.

You Know The Drill
Click the pics

Coffee & Donuts

[SAMWolf]

To A Squirrel At Kyle-Na-No



Come play with me;
Why should you run
Through the shaking tree
As though I'd a gun
To strike you dead?
When all I would do
Is to scratch your head
And let you go.

William Butler Yeats

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning, Sam.



A Squirrel in the Lair. Oh my. LOL

Listening to the tunes as I type and enjoying them.

Thanks for coffee this morning, I can't seem to stop yawning today. I may have to hit the couch and watch the Inauguration from there.

[snippy_about_it]

I didn't know Yeats wrote about squirrels! Cute poem, great graphic.

Good music too, thanks.