My friend Rose began a blog for her writing. I have long wished to be a writer but really doubt I have a talent for it. I do on occasion write poetry that "I" enjoy. To be perfectly honest, they all seem to have the same cadence of the Night Before Christmas. But I am a firm believer if your art is with paint and clay or paper and pen...it must be done first for the artist who is doing it. Then if someone else likes it...how wonderful! So I will post some of my poetry here and once in a while I'll post others, I have permission to share with you. Thank you Rose...keep writing. You inspire me.http://livingwiccy.blogspot.com/
As the sun leaves the sky, the moon rises above, I wait in my chamber for my one true love.
He is there at my window, bathed in the moonlight...my heart skips a beat as he comes into sight.
As I beckon him in and I nod my consent, he crosses the threshold and makes his descent.
Touching my skin with his cool, smooth hands, I kiss his lips sweetly and I await his demands.
I feel safe and alive, while in his embrace then I look in his eyes as he kisses my face.
There's something within that I can't recognize, it's hidden down deep in the depths of his eyes.
My body betrays me...as he kisses my neck his lips feel like fire as they continue thier trek.
His mouth glides like silk to the pulse of my heart, then with no hint of warning, he halts with a start.
The pain is exquisite, as it floods through my viens, my lips part to scream but in silence I remain.
I lie still as he feeds, his long hair on my breast, I am so sad to find... life's no longer my quest!
By Misty Oakley