|
|
| | |
|
|
|
|
|
Greetings to all out there. I am a Greek poet. My world revolves around me as I am my own master. Saying hello to me, might bring a bit more than you bargain, as quickly my words may hold rule. The art of poetry and the crafting of words may be a storm that can rule your mind. Come dance with me
|
|
|
|
|
Loretorn
Her of the crimson fire An amazing creature She was the race of the fey A kindred spirit of Pan The fey of men seven-hundred and forty-two leagues away It was in such a quiet song So beautiful The time she was kissed ever so deeply by an angel In those lands so far away Aphrodite had cast a kind eye Unto which it was him Her blessing was received By a kindred spirit of her own
To her blessed friend It was Mother Gaia that was received in well thought
In the land of the crimson sun Where it was said that the ladies were a race all to their own Holding the fire of the sun in their hair Mother Gaia offered up one of her own fey daughters From the earths energy she was born all things beautiful
Mother and Goddess gave to their children a happiness One to which was received The children found each other
|
|
|
|
|
The writhe
With the stage set and lights low the curtain is drawn so fluidly upon the wire that opens us into a limitless place within my mind where I shall create our dance that is only meant for us We are doing a Dance of Fate As you enter my mind dressed how I wish to see flowing and silken in hues of purple and crimson so very beautiful you await me to take you So tenderly I cherish each and every moment To which you have given With a love I hold so closely each and every memory To which we have created Wrapping my mind around a happiness That none but you give me in so many ways I would love to dance with you to the song of Angels fall first Sending our minds into places neither of us trust others to see Only each other An intimate kiss of passion fire caressing your mind so very gently, with care holding a small glass of wine to your lips Just a sip One sonnet with you is just not enough So much more I have left in me An aria of spices caress my senses as your scent washes through me driving deeply in a happiness To have you in my arms Feeling so very free to get lost in your eyes looking in and seeing How memorable this dance is to be As we tangle in each other where no boundaries are set The best of the world Upon the stage as the symphony plays holding your hair strung through my fingers with fever of lust kissing each others souls spinning in euphoric ecstasy through each others eyes In love with each other in the sacred places Let me put my hands in and caress those places that you want touched so very gently
|
|
|
|
|
We who are left; Nikos Gatsos
We who are left on this stony ground
will burn bitter incense for the dead,
and when Charon the wrestler, new prey found,
has packed up his caravan and fled,
we'll dance in their memory round and round.
We who are left will begin each day
with a fresh-cut slice of the sun's rich bread -
golden honeycomb on a golden tray -
and now untouched by the sickle of dread
we'll steer our life forward on its way.
We who are left will scatter one dawn
seeds of grass on the desert's face,
and before night cuts us down like corn
we'll make earth into a holy place,
a cradle for children still unborn.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| |