Thursday, 14 November 2013



Her voice settles about my head
Like an offering of pearls
How could the feminine hold such
Power to entrance a thug
The Lapis lazuli eyes that seem to phosphor
Like the lights in the northern sky
Lips of ebullience
Lashes that hold butterfly grace
Long black ringletted hair like
The mane of a proud Friesan mare
Your flesh a soft instrument of torture
My senses flagellation as retribution
To my common sense

I need to bolt me in my room
And recite psalms
To save myself
From your terrible allure

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