I. Scorched

by a whisper unspoken;
burned on lips - a script
wanting but unbroken.

A muse unused.

A lie, a truth, a vocal noose;
a tongue or knot,
a voice defused.


II. Forged

Melted in extreme heat
and passion
of locking eyes that become
piercing swords,
of which a thousand shields
could not guard the soul.


III. Reigns and Fire

When I ask you to stop
and you respond
by going faster,
it reminds me of nothing.
The grin, the shallow eye;
you contest me

lovingly

You disregard my request
with utter certainty,
that you know what's best.

I refuse to see defeat
by any other contender.


IV. Charcoal Lines

All the artists got together.
They conspired spontaneously,
combustion into sculptures,
murals, dance - poetry.

They painted, and spilled ink;
sketched and mastered epic plays

and sung
and drummed to a different tune.

Together they manipulated
every form,
in every way.

All worlds were crafted;
entire Universes emerged.

They unleashed
all the creativity
there ever was;
and none of it
was like you.


V. A Cool Dip

You touch my waters,

I boil and steam
and rise in hot excitement

then we cool off together,
each reformed.


VI. Swordplay

The sword, such grace;
such power and persuades.

I am not the knight in armor;
I do attempt to control you.

I am the sweat on his brow.
I am the rain from the clouds.
I am the mud upon the ground
of which you lay your enemies.

I am the air, of which you pierce,
while striking for hearts.

I am the blood spilled by your fury.

09/30/2012

Posted on 10/01/2012
Copyright © 2025 Jody Pratt