Progression
My arm under yours,
my hand dares under your dress,
my fingers, they sin.
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My name rings like a silver bell
A moon in the night,
a song of the stars
that whispers, “Come what might
you know just who you are.”
Undressed
The blushing new bride
dances in her pure white dress
with sinful red lips.
Magnetic
She licks her red lips
while her hands move, unbidden,
to pull him closer.
A Royal affair
The old king was a tyrant
who played the game of war
and those who weren’t compliant
he would show what for.
The queen played games as well
not war, but of the heart
which, at a glance, seemed less fell
but were plagued by false starts.
The jester played the crowd
with pomp and pageantry
and told his stories proud and loud
with playful pandemony.
But when the lights went out, instead
the jester played games in the royal bed.
Hue la rouge
Her colour is red,
a rose with no need for thorns,
she blushes with joy.
Grace
She addresses the crowd,
not from behind a porcelain mask
locked in an eternal smile,
but with a weathered face,
hard and scarred by the world.
Her smile is her own.
Heat
Summertime romance –
a flirt, fling, or anything
hot under the sun.
Ship shape
Storms try to shake me
but though I seem made of wood,
my frame is iron.
Charging toward the sky
Part the clouds,
divide the heaves,
and raise the ceiling
of the sky.
A (wise) man of two faces 