Moments taken, undulating, slipping through the fingers of my mind. Slowly marking
Time when all we had was time. Permanent markers. Red and black indelible print on soft
Surfaces. Everyone could see that you belonged to me. Except for you. And her. Thieves.
My friend Jan Wilberg at http://www.redswrap.wordpress.com inspired me to be inspired by a prompt on the Trifecta Writing Challenge:
Here’s my take on it:
The text I read told the whole tale: Last night was wonderful. Let’s do it again. But it wasn’t written by me or to me, so I torched his favorite motorcycle. And laughed.
Hallways grand, roughly chiseled
Stone walls, tapestried, still allowed
Chill to seep into bones grown cold.
Flames sequestered in recessed
Walls burned day into night with no
Pause inside the draft-filled keep.
Lute played softly, backdrop for a
Feast served in trenchers. Crusty
Bread sopped in juices, shoveled
Indelicately, scraps left for serfs and
Canines to scrabble over long after
Feast’s end. Snarling dogs compete.
Lords, ladies, retreat to chambers
Above the hall, met by servants in
Rooms kept warm for master’s use.
Candles extinguished, madame
Feigns exhaustion sending her liege
To the dressing room, adjacent.
Silently, love’s scented mimic slides
‘Neath brocaded bedcovers worn
Soft as new-shorn sheep, seeking
Warmth as much as lust’s touch.
Whispers a welcome, shivers from
Pleasures greedily anticipated.
How’s that for an innocent poem about castles turning into a bit of lustful folly? When I started writing I had no intention of taking the poem to the bedroom. It wandered there all by itself. Naughty little thing.
Praying for Eyebrowz 