 |
Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
|
||||
| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 03-June 07:18:35 AEST | ||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
Array
(
[sid] => 62217
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Blood Flower: 2 - The Soul-less One
[time] => 2004-09-01 16:40:47
[hometext] => More story than poetry, part 2
[bodytext] => The journey begins With the ending of breath The ending of life New beginning in death I had heard the rumors and followed the trail to a darkened farmhouse I was two weeks from home and knew I was close. It had to be here I was armed with crossbow and stakes and I prayed, surprise Though I doubt any God that knew my thoughts would be listening I had heard it was female. It mattered not, for I could not lose I just had to make it hear me. I had to have the chance. If this one would not concede, there had to be others Although the weight of time pressed down upon me I had been searching for three seasons as it were Night had fallen and was beginning to envelope the house I needed to be in there and on guard when it awoke I silently stepped through the door and into the house I had expected carnage, I was ill prepared for what lie ahead I could sense the evil emanating from a side room and quickly Removed my cloak and shoulder bags. I needed free movement I went to the entrance of the forbidding room I kept the cross bow at ready. I could see a form lying atop a bed The darkness filling the room made definition of shape difficult A thin shaft of moonlight had just begun to penetrate a hole in the wall Curious, I slowly pressed forward to view the object of my quest There was little doubt I had found that for which I sought In stunned silence I gazed upon perfection. She was exquisite Her beauty in slumber unparalleled, somehow managed to pale When compared to the magnificence of her eyes dancing in moonlight Realization returned to me with the knowledge that she had awakened I was unorganized. I chastised myself to have allowed it to happen She rose. I retreated a few paces to the center of the room I knew her for what she was yet I could not stop the sudden lusting That erupted unbidden within me. She flowed from her resting place She straightened and stood before me as I forced the cross bow up She wore a transparent, gauze like fabric draped over her frame It did little to conceal her but somehow left much to be imagined Oh but she was beautiful. I knew I could not destroy her I tried to demand that she stay her ground and heed my words But it was all that I could do to keep the bow at the ready She swept across the room and stood before me. I could speak naught, as with one hand she lowered my aim Her other hand brushed my cheek. My weapon fell to the floor “You are not a hunter,” she told me as she assessed my eyes “But you wish to be…” She tugged at my tunic and whispered “Come” as she drew me towards her bed, the wrap fell away She tore my clothing from my frame and urged me back I fell helpless and uncaring unto the place I had found her She descended upon me Unbridled passion exploded from within. I forgot why I came Nothing but her existed, nothing mattered but our pleasure Higher and higher we climbed within each other’s arms As my body went rigid with release she drank from my neck She held me inside her and to her lips as my breathing slowed She released me only when it had stopped I lost two more weeks as she nursed me and taught me Much I knew not about her kind, in truth my kind now As much slaves to passion and need as I had been in my former life She taught me nightly of passion, but time was short I burned with the need see my plan through I left her in that farmhouse and made my way back One last time ( still at least 1 more on the way ) [comments] => 6 [counter] => 216 [topic] => 13 [informant] => Nazmythian [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
|
Menu
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©
Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster
All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com
All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.
Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com