It’s as if
Half done
The story takes a turn
To here
Wrong turn
Letting the days drift like
No return
And yet
The crest of the hill was
There
Before you could say
Too many
But that’s the way it goes
Looking back
The two of us, like, like
Final word
Tomorrow watching the sun
Should have known
You did,
It’s as if
Last chance
Oh if only
But
Half done
Adelina Mayfield
The heavy stench of the garbage-laden air parted almost visibly. Alice stood transfixed, trying to determine the source of this fresh new odour.. a fragrance beautiful in its simplicity and charm, it lightened the atmosphere and lifted her spirit. She started as someone whispered behind her. “Rose incense.. It carries the heart to its beloved.”
Emotions took her by both hands and swung her wide-eyed from the moment into a storm of memories. Bitter winds tore the bouquet of their times together from her grasp, scattering blossoms across her desolate sky. Opening her eyes, she saw the rose she intended to lay upon the grave crushed in her trembling fingers.
She ran, pell-mell down his street, eager to see the smile in his eyes. The roses in her cheeks glowed like the small flower she had left on his doorstep that morning, telling him she would come. Puzzlement paled her bloom as she slowed and saw the small red smear of the still smoking petals..
The blistering sun was wearing through her lipgloss. Andie writhed against her bonds, but the old man had made them tight as hell. “God damn you Percy! If you don’t get your ass over here and rescue me soon, I’ll burn for sure!” she cried in anguish. The waves were already lapping at her toes..
Link to the hostess:
Reading poetry always puts me in a mood, be it deep or dreamy or distressed. Somehow it never fails to touch me. Right now I guess I'm in a dreamy mood *smile*.
Daisy Dream
I would lie down with you so easily,
in careless dreams that need no covers.
Something in the pace of your breathing
and the lightness of your thoughts
draws me to your side without guile.
Under your soft gaze my nakedness is not stark,
I am wound in a coverlet of anticipation
that is warm like wine and mellow scented.
It is your willingness to come naked also
to the treeless hills of our daisy trysts
that steals away my fears and makes me placid.
There is no cold mist to startle my trust,
nor sharp sound to pierce my smiles.
Thus you woo my undressing with gentleness,
passing me samples of tenderness I cannot resist.
D. Nikulainen
