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Unleashed

by Siri Lipscomb

The passion was hot
Yet surprisingly languid
He roared like a lion
Then shuddered so tame

He soothed with ideas
And possible outcomes
Then holding her closely
He asked her her name

He told her he would tell no one
That she would suffer no shame
Her beauty alluring
Her nature obscuring
The knowledge she drew him
Like moths to the flame

Afterward he never called her
She realized she was to blame
For giving away the unrecognized gift
Can’t even remember his name

09/06/2003

Posted on 09/06/2003
Copyright © 2024 Siri Lipscomb

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Ashok Sharda on 09/06/03 at 01:59 PM

The power of passion or is it the power of the nature? Or its the machine operating the operator? This state is meaninglessly sad.

Posted by JD Clay on 09/08/03 at 01:06 PM

Great rhyme scheme, Siri, and an even more spectacular premise. You have given it a marvelously delicate touch. Nice work. Peace...

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