Thursday, April 23, 2009

Highlighting The Poetry of Chantilly Lace

To Catch a Dream

As footsteps pound the forest floor
on a path towards a heart's dream
will he have the courage of introduction
can his nerves bear the burden of rejection
shall he collapse be his heart’s final demise

In the distance he sees her majestic approach
thighs of strength ripple in stride
slight rise and fall of muscled orbs
tiny beads of purified angelic sweat
coat skin darkened by nature’s rays
a goddess in form and style

As the distance closes between them
so closes the moment of his fate
hollowness fills his insides
moisture escapes his lips and tongue
his heart beats fast though not from strain
but from a moment filled with fear

Doubt courses through his pounding veins
what comments might flow across savored lips
will automation devour his shyness
might he speak and no words come forth
dare he risk failing at introduction
as she closes his soul begins to scream

The moment is finally upon him
now or never his chance to choose
stopping he catches a chance to breathe
pausing to deliver a pretentious rest
closer comes his heart's desire
steady becomes his bursting nerves

Excuse me is his trembled word
does the lady run here often
as she stops to respond to hunted question
his legs they barely sustain his weight
to pass out becomes his bashful wish
till words ease from gentle lips

With a voice like nature’s softest breeze
she grants him a response while running still
I’ve seen you here most often
we seem to share a common thrill
would you care to run beside me
to share a moment and this peaceful air

She wipes his beaded forehead
fingers gently caress his ear
in her eye he sees a wanting
first a smile then a gentle kiss
a whisper not caught at the moment
her face absorbs his attention

Has the gods felt his desperation
have they granted his heart's request
can it be his wish has final fulfillment
as she runs his legs have no movement
wait is the word he manages to shout
a scream so loud he is awakened
and in his pillow he begins to pout

© Nine/ Twelve/ Two Thousand Eight
Chantilly Lace


Birth of Man’s Endearment

Lying upon the dampened earth
I inhale one’s first breaths of life
hands clench both leaves and dirt
feet scrape tracks through grasses green
to crawl is my life’s first commencement
wonderment my mind’s infiltrating fire

What is this place from where I rise
as terror engulfs the depths of mind
strange are the things encompassing me
as eyes become clear of earth's debris
fear and wonderment invade my soul
riding upon waves of emotions and thoughts

Strange is this thing that touches me
that which can be felt but left unseen
it moves all that surrounds un-noticed
drying the dampness from my being
giving pleasure for reasons unknown
causing a curve to my lips from happiness

Warm is the feeling upon bare skin
from the glow so high over head
all seem to turn towards its enjoyment
basking gently in its radiant heat
to one’s vision it’s a stunning blindness
yet to one’s heart a needed contentment

Urges soon create my intention
as I rise and take my first stand
though I wobble I soon become strengthened
stretching limbs towards the glowing sky
my first steps are finally taken

I explore myself and things that create attention
Instinct is my only means of guidance
thirst’s end sought from a nearby brook
I first fear then enjoy my reflection
cupped hands allow the consumption of water
the want for more pulls me into its depths
I submerge to the song of tickling bubbles

As I leave this wetness of enchantment
I see another which is much like me
the same though we bear a difference
I shy and dash towards the sheltered distance
the voice of intrigue beckoning me back
curiosity a feeling in need of an answer

Slowness becomes our heart's inspection
I surrender to out-stretched yearning arms
as we close I feel my soul enlightened
we touch and I feel the security of togetherness
in his eye’s I see a heart's desire
completeness is all he seems to wear

Hand in hand we explore this garden
he teaches what isn’t known
laughter escapes from feelings alive
giddiness soon turns to caring
time slips past communication’s trials
till our first moments end at daylight’s eve.

© Ten/ Thirty-one/ Two Thousand Eight
Chantilly Lace

I enjoy reading Chantilly Lace at Authors Den...Join her there by clicking the title of this article!

No comments:

Post a Comment