.
Thy loveliness be fyne arte
powdered 'pon a velvet page.
Thy heart doth sing lullabies
penned in a lovers cage.

Thy loveliness be crystal jewels
studded 'pon a silver thread.
Thy breath doth fan the fyres
stitched in a lovers bed.

Thy loveliness be sweet dreams
strewn 'pon a meadow fair.
Thy nature doth perfume give
flowers in a lovers snare.

© Pagan Paul (14/06/17)

.
I stand here with thumb outstretched
as the years speed by like passing cars.
Trying to hitch a ride on Life's Road,
for all it cares, I may as well be on Mars.

Relentless, never seeming to slow down,
the years pass me by like pouring rain.
And here I rot, the forgotten wretch,
standing on the kerb of Life's Road again.

Shivering and soaking, I turn to walk,
and the years fly past like hot arrows.
My steps trace a line toward the horizon,
beyond the point Life's Road narrows.

For Death, she will claim me as hers,
when the years stop, no more to erode.
The raw relief, release, too turn away,
and leave the madness of Life's Road.


© Pagan Paul (2016/2017)

.
The sight of your femininity, beauty,
draws breath from your perfect form,
swaying, flirting, a stunning visual love,
with swoon fantasy and anticipated arousal.

The aroma of your perfume, honeysuckle,
drifts lazily from your elegant neck,
teasing, promising, a consenting floral love,
with delicate grace and scented arousal.

The tone of your voice, seductive,
velvet whispers from your deepest want,
lilting, singing, a desperate lyrical love,
with inviting sound and timbred arousal.

The taste of your mouth, sweetness,
drips honey from your delicate lips,
flowing, flooding, a desire sugared love,
with urgent passion and oral arousal.

The feel of your body, intimate,
drapes sensual from your soft skin,
clothing, wrapping, a flesh blanket love,
with spine tingles and fingertip arousal.

You fill up my senses, stunned,
conflicting feelings play with my mind,
heat, lust, a primal instinct love,
frozen in time and with frightening arousal.


© Pagan Paul (25/06/17)

you bathe yourself with pain and despair
you make dark past as a collectible item
you keep yourself drowning in the line of misery;
refusing to breathe tranquility

trying to find commotion
in the midst of peaceful conversation
wanting to be saved; but refuse to say
hiding my feelings from your line of sight
even if the result is me being blind