Endymion - Revisited
By Silver Spun Sand
Wed, 15 Jan 2014
- 1444 reads
9 comments
At the edge of the canvas,
his hand poised – he stopped
and half remembered.
She was looking up at him,
again, through the tangle
of long grasses...
her fingers – toying
with the daisy chain
around her neck
as the wind ruffled her dress
showing just a hint
of a stocking top
and his heart raced, as then,
catching a glimpse
of cream Breton lace.
Her voice – stolen
by the wind, as he caught
her saying not to bore her
with small-talk, unless it meant
he’d take her away from this place.
Hair – the colour of thunder –
wild as the bell-vine;
eyes, rich, deep, dark, like
the promise of blackberry wine –
his fingers exploring
the pale valley of her thighs
and his tongue hungered for
just another taste of her honey
dipped breasts.
And all the while,
he’d ignored the moon – white
on that summer’s afternoon
already pacing; all he saw
was her rise and her fall,
and now, how could he paint
the shimmering sweat she wore
when she’d ridden him,
good, long, and hard ?
And as if she could read
his mind, as his brush,
clinked in its tin...
Give me wings, she said,
and watch me fly.
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Comments
Love it, Tina. And the
Permalink Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on
Love it, Tina. And the richness of your phrases--- her voice stolen by the wind / the colour of thunder.
Richard L. Provencher
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Your muse was on a roll here
Permalink Submitted by Mark Heathcote on
Your muse was on a roll here some really beautiful lines love it all...
Mark Heathcote
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This poem sent shivers
Permalink Submitted by skinner_jennifer on
This poem sent shivers through me as I read Tina. So full of lust and love. I agree with Mark, your muse was definitely on a roll.
I also felt it was one of those poems that needs to be read out loud, to get the full richness of it.
Brilliant.
Jenny.
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Beautiful Tina. What an eye
Permalink Submitted by Parson Thru on
Beautiful Tina. What an eye you have.
I wondered about "clinked". Seems not to fit the soft mood. Just a thought. x
Parson Thru
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