Email Poem

Your IP Address: 18.118.209.158
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
I was cursed with ink 
intoxicating blank canvases 
with toxic scribbles,
releasing twisted tales 
of suppressed troubles.
I was a forsaken  ebony rose 
in satan's grasp,
kneeling on ungodly needs
in a gothic fortress 
of woeful odes,
surrounded by black knights
and colorless blossoms,
searching for legitimate sestinas
and versatile villanelles
to ignite my quill to bleed
without semantic barriers. 

Swaying like a pendulant,
on the edge between
light and darkness,
resembling midnight's 
black ice queen,
I thirsted for a 
universal prophecy.
A poet who would engrave
perennial verses upon my
discoloured healing heart.
To paint antique stones,
during sunless days
in a moonless kingdom.
A calligraphic catharsis,
adorning the sincere crown 
of an imperial ivory king, 
whose angelic voice 
glitters like gems,
soothing insensitive beating drums
within my pondering pensive mind.
A majestic master of his quill,
reviving poetic intimacy,
fusing his musings 
deep inside untouched chambers
with an unscratched itch, 
of my undanced fandango.

F a t e has a way for 
versifiers to assimilate.
From the first drop 
of his couplet,
he had my tongue 
rhyming to the rhythm 
of his unspoken lyrics.
Now, I am a slave to 
what I have become.
Handcuffed and blindfolded
by preserved petals 
between perfumed pages
written from the tip of his
magical wand like fingers. 
I am weaving crystal quartz
words in witching hours,
whilst he pours dulcet musings
incensed in white sage
over my rustic bronze silhouette,
as I am his willing mistress:
a submissive subservient pawn 
to his silent slavery. 
Throned in intricately carved
prose and poetry,
where monochrome strokes
of thin lines no longer perish.

There’s no need for a sorcerer
when his sentimental sonnets 
are an addictive elixir.
I am deliriously comatose
and chained in piercingly
euphoric sagas of his saccharine soul.

Even Lilith seized the moment
to behold what belonged to her
In the name of infatuated love. 
So this is me, stealing
scented seeds
sown along parallel paradigms
of his rightful Parnassian paradise, 
d r o w n i n g in 
metaphorical monograms,
leaving memoirs of a poetess~
seething glitters and gold
reborn from the depths of 
a savior that saved 
me from burnt chapters
              of darkest oblivion.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required