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Resten Swondo

The Stag

In a grove of hidden delight
My flesh tasted a divine urge,
The gods’ covet as their right;
Warmth in the cold earth.

Artemis in huntress pose,
In her nakedness, sublime;
In my hand a red, red rose
Borne in abandon of the vine.

Such sweet tastes were hidden
In the very touch of ages
Carried aloft as gods have bidden
In many an old mortal guise.

In the morning I awoke in sadness
Torn between a promise
And the despair of solemn madness
Withstood in resolve alone.

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The girl with the raven tresses

What smile made this soul quiver?
Shiver on this day in her audible stare
Each fingertip touch made the world
Tremble at the thought of caressing
A tress of her raven hair.

What love is held aloft in the sky
By each thought we forget is nought
But the desire we have given
In the quiet embrace of fortune,
In the tresses of her raven hair.

Electric touches find their spark
On yielding skin dappled in tense
Desire, quaking in raptures moved
By the bliss of moment oblivion,
Scented by tresses of her raven hair.

This world shakes off its slavery
And wakens the soul the moment

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poem by Resten SwondoReport problemRelated quotes
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