A thousand eyes watch from above in their places in the night.
Velvet darkness makes the air soft and inviting.
Fire pops and crakles as the witches dance around.
The moon levitates ominously over the crowd.
Fingers entwine and voices combine.
We dance amoung the dark tonight, the night of Night Sun.
When the faeries play their tricks and lovers elope in secret.
When emotions reach their acmes and troubles fade away.
Raise your glass of jesting wine and let all morals go.
Join the Summer Solstice dance and be magic for a night.
ok this is obviously melidramatic and super weird but it was the only thing i could come up with and the only poems i had saved on my new computer were a family metaphor poem and a poem about not leaving behind childhood dreams. I opted to do improve. What else was I to do?
Only one person....Well, thanks Ali :] I guess I'll post my own.
Merry meet and merry part beneath the winter's kiss, among the deadened mangrove trees and beside the winds quick lisps.
Yuletides come this time around and the covens all but gone
into the world to spread the word, of magic right and wrong.
''So what to do?'' he said to she- the priestess of the moon-
''Why priest, my lord, we've done and planted seeds. All that's left to do is watch them grow and slowly bear our fruit''
A love poem I wrote to give to someone, but I never gave it to anyone.
My Heart For You
You are my only desire, and you are the one I think about,
for you are the one for me, and this I would shout out.
I would risk myself for you, and put my life on the line,
for you to be mine, would make my life shine.
Your beauty matches that of an angel, that of a flower,
as I long for you hour after hour.
This poem is truthful, I do not lie.
I hope you feel the same as me, as I wait for your reply.
I have written darker stuff before but this is what I had at the moment.
Sun rise and sun set, start and end.
The journey through the sky; birth, death, and rebirth.
Blood is both a symbol for life and death.
The sacred scarlet runs as gently or as harshly as the fickle river.
Begin as Maiden, young and naive, strong and weak.
The first step in the dance of life.
Then become Mother, bring new life and absorb new knowledge.
The step of campassion and lasting love.
Finally comes Crone, master of wisdom and guardian of secrets.
The stage of tradition and ending death.
Thus the cycle begins again, dynamic and never ending.
The eternal dance of Herne and Diana,
Forever givers of life and death,
Let us bask in the passions of dance among Them.