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Lovers entered a forbidden forest bower,
And as they stalked that range, with eyes glazed,
She offered up her hind. Now, with doe eyes,
Deep as his, deep in arousal's sleep, heels fell, 
As he knocked and pulled her dark honey hair 
And whispered, surrender, into wanting ears, 
Softly he drove his hunting command, homing 
To his huntress.

Her body braced, yet bade, with heat and vibrance.
Ruthlessly, he ****** his arrow deeper and then 
Once more and then again.  She bucked fiercely 
And defiant, goading his prodding lance ever more
Ever longer, and parting the pink lines of her white
Rose, he was, and once again, Prince to the dark
Dominion of her quarters.

In the middle of this carnal match they paused.
And looking into the forest beyond they saw
A yearling fawn, a feral Goddess, grazing still, 
Bathing in a vale, virginal, wholly unmoved 
By their act of venery, lustfully playing, in the innocent 
Leaves.  It was as if they were among her kin, a gentle 
Doe and a noble stag. From that moment on 
The human hunters did not speak.

Falling, again, rolling eyes were deep in arousal's sleep.
Her back was a crescent moon pocked and wet with dew.
He could feel her heart beating in time with his piercing 
Prong, her arching back glistened in the suns spittle
As it broke through the dark and vernal ceiling wood.

In the final shot her quivering buck lowered and broke
And a sound not heard, made a scene, a sweet murmuring
Shuddered and sank onto the floor of the forest leaves 
With her tale, taken and told, her breathless breath, 
Her nostrils cold and her heated and lanced openings 
Dripping, draining; here was a New World’s beginning.

Sated, solemn and softly quaking, his woman sweetly laid,
And now, doomed with her doe eyes, two lovers, fated, made;
She glowed, divine, like the rolling brook that mellowed
Slow, in the vine-dark and golden forest stable,
In Artemis’s wood.
.

Starlit whispers
woven through sunset auras
upon a moonglow butterfly’s wings,
enchant the horizon
in uttered silhouettes
cascading ‘neath quivering heavens

As fireflies dance
creating flickering constellations
on a canvas painted
in evergreen breeze promises
and magnolia longings,
effervescent dreamscapes beckon

I follow silently,
gazing into the soft light
of yellow Jasmine’s reflective forevers,
breathing in fragrances
of a beauty that can only bloom
*within your twilight smile
There's no such thing as broken dreams
Only broken dreamers.
Don't count yourself in.

Maybe it's not just the right time for it.
Do not give it up.
Live it.

God's NO is not a rejection it's a REDIRECTION.
Trust in Him for He prepared a beautiful future for those who trust in Him with all--their hearts, strength, soul and mind.
(Jeremiah 29:11)
He’s no musician.
He doesn't make melodies through violin and guitar strings.
Yet he composed, haunting ballads in dramatic tempos,
Rhyming every lyric,
Harmonizing, making it dance in a musical euphony.

He’s no seamster.
Yet he cuts and he traces,
plain words and printed phrases;
Then he sews and he weaves it skilfully,
into a lovely concrete poetry.

He’s no painter.
He just has a palette of pigmented letters,
splashing colorful lines on his blank canvass.
A blast of contained evocative memories,
Streaking and shading mixtures of kaleidoscopic imagery.

He’s no storyteller.
Yet from him, I heard the most romantic tales-
One, of the moon and its lover sea.
Reciprocating shy glances, whispering I love you’s,
while kissing behind the sprawling mountains.
Though the dawn will come, they do not fear.
For after the majestic tribal sun leaves his stage,
There’ll the lovers be once again reunited.

He's no poet.**
Yet he writes--
stanzas and verses.
And oh! it revives,
every strand of emotion,
every sense of intuition,
Inside me.
A lyrical perception,
Sheer perfection,
Arousing perpetual reactions,
From me.
I am not good at this. I just want to express my pure gratitude, appreciation and awe for you.

"I am no poet. Never thought of myself as one. Just a guy dabbling clumsily in words"
Yet even, everything you do amaze me.


Thank you all wonderful people on Hello Poetry. I just realized this moment that this poem was featured as Daily poem yesterday.  I have never imagined any of my work will be posted as daily. Thank you all for the hearts, re-post,share, comments and messages. You really made my heart and soul so happy. :)
And most of all, thanks to the man who inspire me to write this one. :)
(04.14.2015)

I bathe in milk
The Ripples along the water are as fine as silk
NO! This is not something I fancy
In life, sometimes you just want to try
In the end we just have to stop the stupid lie.
To live or die
To breathe or just drown
Seems everybody wears a crown
NO! I lost mine a long time ago.
Perhaps temporary is all I could have, so I dare go…
Grab what’s on hand
Never expecting high demand
Then I get lost, soaked
And a little broke
To start a new beginning
Is still out of reach, I’m screeching…
Not in pain but in the cloud that blocks the way
Wishing the fear will stay at bay
Never reaching my awful screeching
Oh CHOICES! I wish I ACTED ON YOU differently
NOT fearing disappointing those who support me.
But hey! What is done cannot be undone
I stand in what I’ve chosen, I never run…
I tried my best to stop my mouth
From reasoning-in or reasoning-out
For your choice is your own responsibility
So I stop blaming others for my problematic probability
I bathe again, in warm water this time
Hoping to wash away the disease that struck me
Faults of my own neglect
Laziness and Tiresome – and its ripple effects
Now I fear I’ll drown…

........... a type of monologues i guess....
partly inspired by this photo:
http://manuelestheim.deviantart.com/art/On-drowning-393658861

a friend of mine hit something when she said:

Sometimes we are all afraid of drowning in the choices we have made. But there's nothing to do but go on. The water of time washes many things away.
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