Taking all unaware
Her golden pen ran circles and lines
Dotting passion and crossing romantic
Could just once the ink fall into reality, would it dare
Fields of wild flowers to run threw
Barefoot and sipping wine
Soft gentle caresses stirring emotions tide
Mighty knights and the love he slew
Weeping willows and babbling brooks
Crimson red, red rose
He loves me he loves me not
All within the pages of her dream books
Love is but a passing she would say
But ink can last forever
And bring a schilling or two!
Alas gentle whispers from a heart covered and hid….Some day
Towering the wall and climbing the tower
Slaying the beast that held the princess captive…
grasping her into his arms as their bodies coursed with desire
He carries her to the bed chamber and consumes her with his power
I like the issue tackled by you poem about the predicament that fiction writers face. And I admire the way your discourse came about. Great, great work.
Ah Patricia - dreams, alluring faery tales and consummate endings! These are indeed the things we became poets to be! Rgds, Ivan
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ahhhhhh, avisit to one of me fav's, indeed...Like an excerpt from a harlequin, this be, m'lady young! ~ ~ ~