PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

A mere whisper ‘pon my lips,
and lo, as in a dark festal dream,
under horned Diana she comes forth
parting the leaden mists near the frozen stream

‘’ To thee I shall weave my song,
Alas! Let the wine of Bacchus flow,
The moon itself bears witness and stars become aware;
As we dance ‘pon the virgin snow
Young and unfulfilled ‘neath the cedar’s stare…’’

With the merest brush of her lips on mine
She renders me powerless- a serpent’s kiss
I slip into her cold caress
To be crowned in eternal bliss…