Circe, daughter of the sun, was a sorceress renowned for her knowledge of spells, magical herbs and spiritual purification.
Dreaming
last night
of Circe, pursuing
the Moon.
Twilight
spills red
water color passion
indigo gold,
Smudges
of moonlight
ink across
her face.
Circe, I said - wait,
my poem needs you.
She tossed white, wild sage
on my sleeping body.
In dream so
powerless
before
her beauty.
Moonlight
rising to a
zenith starred light
escaped us both.
7 comments:
Elise i read your poem, and it got linked in my head with the last line in the last of the poem of Psyche
isn't it beautiful how one soul touches other soul, and create something new?
I love IT
Elise, Stunning!
absolutely brilliant, not a word too many and all words fit beautifully. I am always amazed and humbled by your works
Your mystical mind
and love of words
brings grace to this poem.
Bless you
from Linda
Buy C0rnch1ps 4 ch34p!
Very pretty.
Have you browsed the other writing on my blog yet?
-- M3TE0R .
Loved the last lines the twist moon rising to her zenith starred power escaped us.
i hope i got it right - even if the moon rises to meet her he cant for when its time for him to come its time for her to go. Pun not intended.
Hello Princess Haiku:
This painting is absolutely lovely. And the poem is wonderful, your are blessed with a incredible talent.
Post a Comment