Slumber Woods Dance

Slumber Woods Dance

A Poem by Tim Lion
"

Different for me.

"

Hazily kindled by full springtime moon,

Goddess who bites with venomous kisses;
Her brilliant madness wafts ghostly slow
Like fireflies drunk on the hot mist of night.


Wind sips at her breasts with dark lilac shades.
Hazel glade of hot tongues; stars spurn her stare.
Curves of her form sewn by wayward angels.
I bathe in her pools; a sweetness that kills.

We pierce the black veils of mundane frenzy
With blessed pink n*****s moistened of dew;
Blood spills on her alter; rose-colored sap.

Wrapped in vine thighs of Queen Mab; lovingly crushed.

Ferocious hush of passionate maelstrom
devours the greens and azures with sleep.
One last precious taste of purple smeared sky

As my eternal eyes focus Beyond.

 

On mortal martyr! On to your dream place!

Raw soul-bloom has sprung from flawed fleshy root.

A grub left to earth; butterfly skyward!

Fly to your rest until morning wakes new.

© 2011 Tim Lion


Author's Note

Tim Lion
O.T. is my favorite tea drinker today. Innit?
In my opinion, he should have been invited to the royal wedding,
and be seated beside Kanye West. :)~

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now see.... I envision this a Bacchanalian wine tasting party in the vineyard. Everyone hedonistically partakes and then slumbers on the grass as they drift toward dreamland....

I don't see these fresh spawned works as resembling a past mortal/human period. I see them as taps into the cosmos, sampling time eras immortal, like before the Atlantans....

but then again I can sup a lot of grape juice.... n*****s moistened of dew... fill me another quaff vintner...




Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

Lots of twists and turns between the beautifully engraved images. Little moments and hints at other things to drag the reader deeper into the play.

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

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.
LOL to authors notes...now distracting from the poem...!!! Indeed a write needing rapturous applause as it is divine, the phrasing and structure is simply beautiful..



Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Beautiful words.

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This poem is mind blowing.. from first to last verse.. so powerful, sensual ... a lovely ride drinking with the God of Wine..
"Like fireflies drunk on the hot mist of night."
Brilliant!

Chloe

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I absolutely love this! Very detailed. I love the words you use. Very good job!

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

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OT
init indeed!! haha see now I turned down the invitation, scared Kanye would do a taylor swift... awkward right?? haha - you I know I like it - the sibilance is off the chart - it all just twirls in a hiss - lending a nice ominous hum to the words "to rest until morning wakes"... "mortal martyr" - little comments dropped here and there to alter the read - lots of colour plays too! the altar etc. the martyr - all linking back!! nice!

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

now see.... I envision this a Bacchanalian wine tasting party in the vineyard. Everyone hedonistically partakes and then slumbers on the grass as they drift toward dreamland....

I don't see these fresh spawned works as resembling a past mortal/human period. I see them as taps into the cosmos, sampling time eras immortal, like before the Atlantans....

but then again I can sup a lot of grape juice.... n*****s moistened of dew... fill me another quaff vintner...




Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Shades of Keats and Shelley here, I would say. Ode to Queen Mab. It's a beaut.

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Stunning dude! Like the new pic, too.

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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9 Reviews
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Added on February 23, 2011
Last Updated on February 23, 2011

Author

Tim Lion
Tim Lion

Lake Worth, FL



About
Sometimes, when the moon presses her naked chest to my window, and my wife is carving the value from trash scraps, I feel like I may never be able to outshine my finite timeline. And the worst part is.. more..

Writing
oh sorry, oh sorry,

A Poem by Tim Lion



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