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Post by wolf on Feb 3, 2020 22:34:51 GMT
......have a lot of notes & verses to sort through & assemble for "the queen of roses".
i want it to turn out as good as its companion poem "the Joker Jack".
......got to get through the holidays & a couple of other projects Looking forward!----------- on the 3rd revision now......dang! i don't think even Pygmalion had this much sculpting, shaping and smoothing to do. ....lol, it's long and involved, i got to get it right.  |
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Post by wolfbear on Feb 4, 2020 10:41:07 GMT
Looking forward!----------- on the 3rd revision now......dang! i don't think even Pygmalion had this much sculpting, shaping and smoothing to do. ....lol, it's long and involved, i got to get it right. Pygmalion had the advantage of ignorance.... |
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Post by wolf on Feb 4, 2020 17:17:14 GMT
Pygmalion had the advantage of ignorance.... True |
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Post by wolf on Feb 10, 2020 19:38:09 GMT
"The Queen Of Roses"
She was red,
the skies stormy gray,
on that day
ravagers stole,
her golden King away.
The Queen of roses,
strode forth from the palace,
much like Underland's Right Alice.
Armored not,
but for silver crucifix,
and mood dank
as sullen river Styx.
Armed to the strong white teeth,
with sword and raging grief.
Darkly bereft of glee,
that she,
set out on a search
for what must be found,
the bright golden he.
Wolfishly she hounded and pounded
hard cold ground.
Faithfully following and devouring
every scent, sign and sound.
Traveling a path of great design,
thinking it made
by the almighty Divine.
Looking for that,
she mistakenly named "mine".
Tracked a most perilous trail,
but alas,
it was to no avail.
End approaching
on overgrown roading,
prickled the nape of her neck.
A sunken telling
of terrible foreboding.
With awful dread,
to a limp lump form,
she trudgedly tread.
Found the king she did,
but far too late,
for fair golden he
was already dead.
Sad anger quietly seething,
in and out
with her tempered breathing.
Earth and time stopped,
right sorrowful there,
she gently buried him,
in terra hard,
and frightful cold air.
All the while,
whispering haunting dirge hymn,
for the lost golden him.
Earth and time restarted,
she rose again and departed.
Back to the desolate angel palace,
now so unlike,
Wonderland's much Right Alice.
No longer the queen,
she had once,
so contentedly been.
Days and days went by,
still she thought of him,
again again and again.
Melancoly queen,
in her rose garden's gray rain.
One day she heard in the breezes,
phantom sighs praying
sentiments od hardships eases.
Demons and Angels
tauntingly tittered.
Frightened sparrows
frantically twittered.
Soft wails scattered fox and hare,
with windy vox and unseen glare.
Immovable she stood,
gaunt fair face masked
underneath monk-like hood.
Long and strong
of back and limb,
tight gut svelte
brow wide and furrowed grim.
Faded red skin tone,
could be counted,
her every rib bone.
Broad of shoulder,
stolid in stance,
woman unmovable boulder,
she could slay with a glance.
Deeply tempted she attempted,
to decipher utterances piously glamorous,
ubiquitously nebulous and vaguely amorous.
Winds willowly whining,
benevolence and malice.
Then came wise pet owl of Pallis.
Alighted atop perch portico,
soothe sayingly who'ing,
low soft and slow.
"Cease this rigid futility,
oh you.....haughty humility.
Open your closed mind,
recognize and find,
your own good kind.
King of angelic gold,
shaped from Adonis mold,
not so strong,
not for this harsh world,
for very long.
Your past life's he,
was simply not to be.
Not for you,
your true time,
is not yet due."
the owl, with words
cobbled and hattered,
telling her all ,
that really mattered.
"Wait for what belongs to you,
one made of black and blue.
Bruised as your purpled heart,
meant just for you,
a true work of art.
A poet, a bard,
a serene light card,
a fine troubadour,
he's the one you will adore.
The bandaleer,
who all shall laud and cheer."
Then birds black and large,
flew in with a fluttering charge.
Alit and perched on two sides
below the owl.
And far away,
a great wolf
gave a lonesome howl.
Apollos crows squawked and trilled,
Odin's ravens cawed and thrilled.
Cawed, squawked and talked their sing,
they told what fate,
wanted to bring.
"Warrior poet king!......"
the Rose listened, unsettled annoyed,
"....will fill that forlorn vast void!
Aching sweet wound in your heart,
he'll heal fill and thrill,
with fantastic seraph's art."
All orchestrated to befuddle,
but there great truths be,
in the consuming confusing muddle.
Two pair of mighty inner sight,
one to owls left, on to the right.
Crows left began,
"As Hermes mercurial,
is this god-man.
He has the key,
to sweet fields of Elysee.
He is whats meant,
that loving just God has sent."
Ravens to the right went on,
"By Odin, by Crom!
He has everlasting pogue,
of glorious Tiernanogue."
Their songs were law.
And as they continued,
she set hard her jaw,
and clenched fast her fists
so veined and sinewed.
"Has he the secret dear,
of Oedipus' Middle.
You'll know
when in his answer you hear,
that part of the Riddle."
"With fiery lute and lyre,
his psalms are balms,
for every ill and ire.
To your every longing he abides,
with Pan pipes and horns,
from mouth, hands, feet and sides,
he'll pull all torments thorns.
From round your heart
he'll dethrone,
the crown of thorns
that there hath grown."
Eager reluctant ears ate,
the prophecies of their fate.
Owl who'ed, cooed and hushes
Ravens and Crows rushing gushes.
"Knows he, of all the seen and unseen,
dining in halls of Valhalla, he has been.
He knows astounding World Abounding,
he has helped along,
happiest hunting grounds founding.
Found the path to promised Zion,
for he was told,
by a most noble Lion scion.
He will reach you, joyfully teach you,
Solomon's song of songs,
for which everyone longs and longs.
He'll tell the secrets,
of Qoheleth's praises,
wherein lies all that raises.
The length of days,
is in all he teaches and says.
For the both of you awaits,
all of heavens safe havens."
did declare,
Owl, Crows and both Ravens.
"Make no mistake,
this mystic's mystique,
is far from being diablique.
In his possession,
is many a fine relic,
of the great good angelic.
The insurmountable unbreakable,
he'll break and make able.
Sharp diamond eyes,
the color of seas and skies.
For his gilded lips,
you will lunge,
his silver tongue,
for that, you'll plunge.
Just as he for thee,
as it is said,
it must surely be.
He's your god,
you his goddess,
especially now,
during all this duress."
"You are the key,
to unlock the lonely heart
that lives in he.
He is the key,
to sad broken heart,
deep within thee.
You the left, he the right,
together you both
free the light.
He will bring you to your knees,
to raise you up
to take your place of peace and ease.
You are your own cross to bear,
until then,
when you meet him There.
Under the light white,
of the wolfen moon,
you will succumb,
to his enlightening tune.
At the lands great feast,
Beauty shall find,
her most perfect Beast.
The rescuer true,
dressed all in black and blue.
Do as you must,
leap, in God and us
do good and trust.
Follow your heart,
and you'll obtain
his magic and art,
and be yourself once again.
Weighty sentence of pain
is repealed,
when all that is hidden
be revealed."
Walking back into the palace,
(so unlike the Right much Alice)
sadly she replied,
"Caught between you devils,
and the deep blue sea,
is tested and tried me."
All the birds
flew away singing,
"Oh, more than you know!
...but you shall see,
what he is bringing,
and what is intended to be."
- Wolf
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Post by wolf on Feb 10, 2020 19:39:15 GMT
"The Joker Jack"
The Joker Jack,
dressed all in blue and black.
The handsome clown,
that dares to wear
a kings royal crown.
The challenging Card,
the charging chilling bard.
Elegantly regal, there he stood.
On his monk-like hood
bells a-jingling,
on his booted heels
spurs a-jangling.
There the heart wrenching singer,
gold and silver rings
on every other finger.
The guests cups he fills,
from his mouth
poetic elixir languidly spills.
Delectable lyrical arts,
his sowing, building and weaving,
uplifting the hearts
of the downtrodden grieving.
His wild tales relating,
jaded souls and minds elating.
The timid good roused to bravery,
the cruel high and mighty
reduced to impoverished mental slavery.
"The last shall be first,
the first shall be last.
Lazarus outside the door,
shall hunger and thirst nevermore."
Intense ensnaring stare
nigh onto a reproachful glare,
set above a scant smile
hard and sharp as a diamond file.
Riddling puzzling jesting,
defiantly boundary testing.
Glib scathing jibes,
witty stabbing jabs.
Useful dry irony employing,
the arrogant blind, heartily enjoying.
Jaunty brazen joking,
haunting deep thought provoking,
smiles, tears and leers skillfully evoking.
Naturally, effortlessly does he exude,
the most masculine pulchritude.
Sugared terror of a creature, teacher and preacher.
Finely refined of every facial feature.
Lithe precise flexibility,
frightening quick, nimble agility.
Dancing away on the edges of convention,
guests watched and listened with undivided attention.
Magically, wonderfully entertaining,
plebians and patricians alike.
Retelling grand stories of glories,
detailing every vanquishing sword strike.
All by heart he had learned,
epics and sagas of valor earned.
Lute and lyre passionately strummed,
with fingering and strokes of fire.
Sung and purringly hummed,
ballads of love and heated desire.
Praises he sung of the seas and oceans,
revealing their secret magical potions,
hidden in the moon lit waves of emotion.
Expertly he recited all, as the upper echelon had bid,
gave them all they wanted, that he did.
Tragedy to comedy, and all points in between,
regaling with beloved dramas
of all the mysterious seen and unseen.
Eagerly noblemen's hands
reached out to meet and greet.
The ladies fingers, (being tempted, they could not deny)
longed to brush over him as he went by.
Courteously he avoided them all,
agile swift he, so deftly sly.
Into and throughout the day and nights revelry,
he conducted himself with perfect grace and chivalry.
On his last tune and turn
'round the great room,
suddenly a hand grasped his free swinging wrist
his breath rasped, this grip he couldn't resist.
The cool touch so gently strong,
the one he'd waited for, for so long.
He turned, looked and saw,
hurt eyes so pained and raw.
The sad kingless queen, the Red Queen of Roses.
It was she, he's truly touched and moved
with all his poems and proses.
His treasure troves of endless verses,
his literary and poetic adventurous traverses.
His smile brightened,
her sad eyes slightly lightened.
He, she carefully eyed,
as to her hand holding fast
he measuredly replied,
"...oh...it's you, finally...at last..."
His flint hard eyes began to soften,
(something not seen very often)
"Oh, what took you so long.
For years, I have always known,
it's only to you I belong.
And only you I can call my own."
That was the day,
all her woes, fears and tears,
he kindly kissed away.
"I give you my solemn vow,
caught up in now
'the Deep Blue In-Between Sea',
are love demon thee,
and the good devilish me."
Captured and enraptured she,
sighed ever so happily,
".....oh come here YOU, and dance with me,
for now we're both complete and finally free."
-Wolf
That one was inspired by all the face cards (and of course, the joker) in a deck of playing cards.
I think it's alright. Been really busy, tired and a little sick at the moment (but I'm okay).
Thats just the best I can do today.
Maybe I'll do one about the story of "The Queen of Roses". We'll see.
I've got another weather poem thats in the works. Been working on these a little at a time, here and there. When I have time to.
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Post by wolf on Feb 10, 2020 19:45:15 GMT
Finally got "The Queen Of Roses" done wolfbear
I had a tough time with that one,
I hope it doesn't disappoint.
Just got access to a keyboard today,
lol, it was just too long to try to post with
the remote control.
I posted the "Joker Jack" again,
since the two are companion poems.
hmmmm......which one do you think should be first?
I think either one could. Maybe.
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Post by wolf on Feb 14, 2020 16:45:41 GMT
Well, I guess the "Queen Of Roses" fell flat and disappointed.
Working on another new one that might be good.
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Post by wolfbear on Feb 16, 2020 18:56:16 GMT
Well, I guess the "Queen Of Roses" fell flat and disappointed.
Working on another new one that might be good. No no no! I haven't even gotten a chance to read it yet! Unfortunately I have been too busy running around. I am waiting for that moment to get to both of those poems and get back to you on whether the order matters or not. I am taking it a given they both rock! But continue with the new one 😁 i will get to them!!! |
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Post by wolf on Feb 16, 2020 19:38:37 GMT
wolfbear Ok! Take your time and thanks!
....lol, don't forget: "Quid pro quo"......whenever you are ready.
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Post by wolfbear on Feb 24, 2020 15:53:40 GMT
Finally got "The Queen Of Roses" done wolfbear
I had a tough time with that one,
I hope it doesn't disappoint.
Just got access to a keyboard today,
lol, it was just too long to try to post with
the remote control.
I posted the "Joker Jack" again,
since the two are companion poems.
hmmmm......which one do you think should be first?
I think either one could. Maybe. Awesome stories these two are. A real fun read. And I think the queen of roses should come first bc her story is referenced in the jack poem, where the king is already dead. Its like reading an epic tale. |
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Post by wolf on Feb 24, 2020 16:37:38 GMT
Finally got "The Queen Of Roses" done wolfbear
I had a tough time with that one,
I hope it doesn't disappoint.
Just got access to a keyboard today,
lol, it was just too long to try to post with
the remote control.
I posted the "Joker Jack" again,
since the two are companion poems.
hmmmm......which one do you think should be first?
I think either one could. Maybe. Awesome stories these two are. A real fun read. And I think the queen of roses should come first bc her story is referenced in the jack poem, where the king is already dead. Its like reading an epic tale.
Thank you Wolf Bear.
(oh yeah, I know I made a few typo's in there.....but "bandaleer" was a real blunder, don't know what I was thinking at the time. It's supposed to be "BALLADEER".....I've really got to proof read better.) |
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Post by wolf on Mar 15, 2020 4:27:57 GMT
Thank you wolf ,much appreciated. Someone told me once i "write pictures". I guess i do. I definitely connect to that feelability you speak of - i connect to these poems the same way. I wish my stories had that same material feel, lol. Hoping to see some more of your papered poetic thoughts too. They are really good reading.
I've unearthed all my notes on that poem that came to me while I was working on "The Queen Of Roses", and I just need to do the necessary assembling, arranging, sculpting and smoothing. 
It is titled "I Dreamt The Buffalo Home".
It is inspired by a waking dream I had in the early hours one Sunday morning, not long after I wrote "Remembering The Snows Of Bellevue".
I hope to post it soon. |
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Post by wolfbear on Mar 15, 2020 18:58:00 GMT
Thank you wolf ,much appreciated. Someone told me once i "write pictures". I guess i do. I definitely connect to that feelability you speak of - i connect to these poems the same way. I wish my stories had that same material feel, lol. Hoping to see some more of your papered poetic thoughts too. They are really good reading.
I've unearthed all my notes on that poem that came to me while I was working on "The Queen Of Roses", and I just need to do the necessary assembling, arranging, sculpting and smoothing.
It is titled "I Dreamt The Buffalo Home".
It is inspired by a waking dream I had in the early hours one Sunday morning, not long after I wrote "Remembering The Snows Of Bellevue".
I hope to post it soon.Not sure this would be a good forum for stories, aren't they too long? I could share some of my dreamscapes. I wrote a few down, and lost some. And then i stopped writing them after awhile, not sure why. But since you mentioned your dream, i thought about them. They are more like short essay style, and i think are short enough for here. Assuming the admins are okay with that. You write shorts too? Essays? |
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Post by wolf on Mar 15, 2020 21:08:34 GMT
Wolf Bear, you mention stories you have written here, I would love to read any of those.
I've unearthed all my notes on that poem that came to me while I was working on "The Queen Of Roses", and I just need to do the necessary assembling, arranging, sculpting and smoothing. 
It is titled "I Dreamt The Buffalo Home".
It is inspired by a waking dream I had in the early hours one Sunday morning, not long after I wrote "Remembering The Snows Of Bellevue".
I hope to post it soon. Not sure this would be a good forum for stories, aren't they too long? I could share some of my dreamscapes. I wrote a few down, and lost some. And then i stopped writing them after awhile, not sure why. But since you mentioned your dream, i thought about them. They are more like short essay style, and i think are short enough for here. Assuming the admins are okay with that. You write shorts too? Essays? It is best to start another thread for essays, stories etc. yes, I have written some other things. I will tag you in another thread, so you can see an example. maybe you'll find it entertaining. |
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Post by wolf on Mar 16, 2020 17:33:53 GMT
Wolf Bear, you mention stories you have written here, I would love to read any of those.
I've unearthed all my notes on that poem that came to me while I was working on "The Queen Of Roses", and I just need to do the necessary assembling, arranging, sculpting and smoothing.
It is titled "I Dreamt The Buffalo Home".
It is inspired by a waking dream I had in the early hours one Sunday morning, not long after I wrote "Remembering The Snows Of Bellevue".
I hope to post it soon. Not sure this would be a good forum for stories, aren't they too long? I could share some of my dreamscapes. I wrote a few down, and lost some. And then i stopped writing them after awhile, not sure why. But since you mentioned your dream, i thought about them. They are more like short essay style, and i think are short enough for here. Assuming the admins are okay with that. You write shorts too? Essays?
"Essays, SHORT Short-Stories....Etc."
A place for everyone and anyone to post.
Providing that it is alright with our fearless leader, Commander osnafrank . |
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Post by wolf on Mar 23, 2020 22:47:11 GMT
"I Dreamt The Buffalo Home"
Comes great medicine.
The Earth's shoulders tremble,
with it my Heart rumbles.
Thundering drums of great feet.
Hooves, the ground beating.
And legs, urged to dance.
Leading, Buffalo Chief ROARS.
Strong Voice cries out,
beside lowing and bellows.
The People have built.
Their tools are prayers,
sung and danced.
Round Dance dreams.
They have called out,
and Buffalo have come back.
I sang,
I ate and drank,
I danced,
and dreamt the Buffalo home.
The American Bison.
Herd is fast....
and vast.
Stretching across the Plain.
Gluskaap, Old Man, Grandfather.
Old Man Coyote.
Coyote...he is God's Dog.
He yowls, yips and yawps,
for and with The People.
The Brother Wolf hears,
and he howls.
Gathering call, singing out
to the hungering family.
The pack, the tribe, the family,
heed their calling.
They have wolf-children to feed.
Like swift gray winds,
useful wolves go hunting.
Their hunt,
it is glorious,
and it is honorable.
Blessed gifts,
they gratefully eat.
No more tears,
no more mourning wolf-songs.
Sick and weak of the herd,
.....Death,
they gratefully greet.
The Buffalo People.
They are strong,
and have health again.
Plenty has returned,
to the Land of Plenty.
The People,
the bears and big cats,
wolves and coyotes.
Birds big and small.
Flies, beetles and ants.
All happily sing and dance.
Plenty,
has returned.
To the Lands of Plenty.
The People.
They have to eat.
Warrior Hunter food
of our Grandfathers.
They have clothing,
they make shelter,
and tools.
They use everything,
and waste nothing,
as they know in their bones,
how it is RIGHT to do.
With My People,
I sing,
I eat and drink,
I dance.
All in THANKS,
to the Great Maker.
The Great Spirit Protector,
and Creator.
I prayed.
And I pray.
.....I dreamt the Buffalo home.
-Wolf
As I said in an earlier post, this poem was inspired by a dream I had one Sunday morning.
I was dreaming that I was making my bed. And as I was throwing a red trappers point blanket with black stripes, out over my bed, the wall beside me opened up.
I could see a great plain with melting snow and wet dark brown rocks and stones showing through. The plain was on the very edge of a forest. A thundering herd of buffalo were stampeding by.
The herd was healthy and strong and powerful, and stretched as far as I could see.
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Post by wolf on May 7, 2020 21:32:03 GMT
I'm not forgetting about this thread.
Oh man, I told you before elsewhere, wolfbear, inspiration comes suddenly some days.....
I had an idea for a new poem today, a few lines just errupted.....
I'll have to turn them into somethin' good now.
I'll title it "Medusa Unbound"
This is what I came up with pretty fast,
"... snake eyed and blinded
by pain, rage and sorrow,
thinking there could never be tomorrow.....
.....but upon her lips, a hungry human kiss
It reminded her of the godly bliss,
and she came back
from out the stygian black.
Into the arms true,
of the sea's greens and blue.....
to the god, she'd always called "my you"....."
- Wolf
Whew, that's going to need A LOT of work.
But I think I can turn it into something.
Basically, the skeletal story is that Poseidon finds.....Medusa's body gone from her garden...then finds her....and unexpectedly manages to restore her...through....?.....well, I don't want to give the whole plot away.
Yeah, all that just had to come out.
somewhere.
I've to get "Angel and the Demon" in the other thread finished first. Of course.
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Post by wolfbear on May 8, 2020 3:47:19 GMT
I'm not forgetting about this thread.
Oh man, I told you before elsewhere, wolfbear, inspiration comes suddenly some days.....
I had an idea for a new poem today, a few lines just errupted.....
I'll have to turn them into somethin' good now.
I'll title it "Medusa Unbound"
This is what I came up with pretty fast,
"... snake eyed and blinded
by pain, rage and sorrow,
thinking there could never be tomorrow.....
.....but upon her lips, a hungry human kiss
It reminded her of the godly bliss,
and she came back
from out the stygian black.
Into the arms true,
of the sea's greens and blue.....
to the god, she'd always called "my you"....."
- Wolf
Whew, that's going to need A LOT of work.
But I think I can turn it into something.
Basically, the skeletal story is that Poseidon finds.....Medusa's body gone from her garden...then finds her....and unexpectedly manages to restore her...through....?.....well, I don't want to give the whole plot away.
Yeah, all that just had to come out.
somewhere.
I've to get "Angel and the Demon" in the other thread finished first. Of course. Good base. And don't worry about which piece you get to first 🤪 |
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Post by wolf on May 16, 2020 21:46:18 GMT
"Medusa Unbound"
Posiedon arises
from his sea's depth.
Slumbers now
Winter's kiss of death.
Still his heart...
Pains hard blue throne.
Still is the god so lost
and utterly alone.
Long ago cast away,
has been a head.
Snake haired and undead
Screaming and bloodied red.
Strolling and rolling,
the ocean's bed.
Coral reef is it's make,
and sea creatures monuments
left in it's wake.
Sea God breaches waters wild.
Ever on his mind,
the beauty lost, Medusa defiled.
Upon new ground breaking,
Earth Shaker, land quaking.
On meandering path,
to find again the victim
of Pallas Athena's Just wrath.
Gorgon head...writhing, bloated,
rocked to and fro, roaring.
Rolled and floated,
washed up, on ground shoring.
Zephyr came calling,
into his arms winds,
flailing snakes went falling.
Strolled, rolled and slid,
the frightful head,
did just, as it was bid.
Wound up amid
Stony Statues of the garden,
where once she held court
as supreme serpent warden.
After journey of perilous hazard,
there, snake riddled mazard
re-met and upon set,
dusty dry boulders,
of rocky corpse shoulders.
Reanimated Monster,
stood up once more,
dripping anew with blood and gore.
From out her garden, Medusa ventures,
just as Posiedon begins his new adventures.
A trail of drops red,
left in her body"s stead
on the garden bed,
of silent stone heros,
long forgotten and dead.
Sorrowful Sea god!
MANY a mile he has trod.
Entering hero's grave yard,
he sees something new,
and to believe his eyes
it is very hard.
For where Medusa, Perseus slew,
red roses, now there grew.
Roses the color sanguine red,
from there to drops more,
his haunted eyes were lead.
He found her dripped trail,
made of fresh wet gore,
and pieces of rotted dress and veil.
Medusa the tortured,
the put upon broken hearted,
slowly and woefully
had departed.
Tormented she,
was at least finally free,
of those who would flay her,
cruelly impale her,
and hatefully slay her.
Blindly she wandered,
brass claws clicking
snake pates hissing,
with forked tongues flicking.
Mouthful of fangs gnashing,
cracking and clashing.
Posiedon. Not far behind,
walked puzzling path,
not knowing what to find,
sure there was naught to be,
but undead venom and wrath,
a horror, so maddening to see.
Wasn't long, far ahead he saw her,
quickened his pace,
caught up to and apprehended her.
Dreading to see that face.
Turning her about,
he just had to find out.....
Surprised by hand that seizes,
she bucks and balks,
he strengthens grip and freezes.
She clawed and bit,
slashing and out lashing,
in a tempestuous furious fit.
He refuses to let her go,
even though, her anger wounds him so.
He's found her at last,
and faithfully holds fast.
Looking hard, into the blinded snake eyed,
he felt sure,
there was something of HER,
still there, deep down inside.
"Medusa, LOOK! and see,
that it IS me,
and know, it's the real you,
I still love,
and burn for true!"
She was high unto deaf,
yet HIM, she heard.
Posiedon sees recognition,
and entertains thoughts absurd.
Heal does his bruises, and every gash,
as upon her down,
a wave of miracles crash.
Falls from her eyes, the scaling,
and ceases her flails and railing.
Cold boulders,
those rock hard shoulders,
now warm and become shapely.
In his embrace,
torrid snarling face,
now changes
while returns her natural grace.
Falls from her, the numbness of death,
as she breathes in his sweet sorrow breath.
Scaled green skin, once leatherly,
returns to supple earthy brown,
heavenly and loverly.
Gone now the cold snake eyes,
blinded by rage, pain and sorrow,
that thought there could never be,
a new bright tomorrow.
For upon her lips,
the hungry human kiss,
reminded her of the godly bliss,
and she came back,
from the stygian black,
falling into the arms true,
of the Sea's greens and blue.
Back to the god,
she'd always called, "My You".
Melts away the serpent lair,
as returns her long soft hair
Horrid fangs have fallen out,
lovely pearls are now seen,
as her god hears her shout,
"Posiedon! Where have you been?
My You, my meant, my one!
My god, what have you done?"
The Ocean sighed,
"I don't know, nor do I care,
for now I hold loving you,
once more sweet and fair.
Somehow, I just knew,
deep down you were still my girl,
and still My You."
Relief and consolation,
laboriously earned.
Lessons learned,
peace and health now returned.
Looking on, sad Pathos,
he is elated.
For fated love lost
is finely finally sated.
Not far nearby,
two grand goddesses
do sit by, and spy.
Aphrodite gasped with delight,
"Oh Sister, how be it made right?"
Pallas Athena smiled and replied,
"Sister, don't you see,
it took the fifth element,
that came from you and me.
That wonderful thing love,
that fearsome gentle Dove,
that came from sweet foolish you,
and the hard wise blue steel,
that would be ....me."
- Wolf
Done. Now to get out of Greece, and back into the "neighborhood" frame of mind.
To finish what I started in the other thread.
Lol, there's a very thin fine thinny between the beams of here and there, I think.
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Post by wolf on Dec 3, 2020 23:12:30 GMT
"The Valkyrie on the Balcony" .....this one is still in the dreaming up stages.
...but the title was presented to me in a dream,
like a challenge. And everyone knows,
I can't resist a challenge like that! 😊
And like always..... if I write the title down,
then I will get to work on it that much quicker.
Might be done not too long after the holidays.
We'll see.😉
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