Apollonian Inspirations



There is art in the way you move
The way your hand curls ‘round the pen
The way your wrist paints the masterpiece of words

There is grace in the way you pose
How you bare your soul onto the page
How you pour the ache of love unbidden into motion

There is power in the way you know
What lay deep on the unrequited path
What stillness lurks in the untamed heart

There are secrets woven between the lines
Those which stir my passions
Those which strike my inhibitions

And there is more, that which I can not name
Only feel, when the spell is cast
Only long to touch, when my spirit reaches toward the zenith of your endowment

For you must be a merciful one
To spare me the quiet death of an untouched heart
To guide me through the hallowed halls of myself, and bring me spiraling back

Into your blissfully articulated creation




You hair pools around me
As you lay in my lap
I run my fingers through the silky strands
Dark, as the midnight of our love

Your eyelashes flutter
And I stare into the endless forest
Where I am met by the Wild One
And his untamed lust

My breath quickens
Eyelids grow heavy
Your fingertips trail my arm
And before I can open my eyes

You are once again above me
Searing me with soft lips
Possessing my body, my mind
Drowning me in fragrant, carnal pleasure



Soul of the Strings

Your strings carve their way through hardened fingertips as I flutter my wrist Wrenching the anguish from the souls of the sophisticates
My lithe hand curls round the bow with the elegance and precision of a calculated crescendo

The resonance gathers inside your hollow curves, springing from the recesses of my human soul
The scent of rosin drifts like stardust on our wave, thrust into battle by your equine blade

A cascade!
Five hairs break loose in the fray, dancing like serpents as we charm them
We sway and they sway, we yearn and they yearn, we give and we take away

We are the wood stained red, and the strings pulled tight
The bow, piercing through the smoky light
We are the artist caught in the rapture of sound
High on A minor, never leaving the ground

Our prize, it has come as they rise, eyes brimming with joy and with pain
On the stage we stand with our weapon in hand
You and I, we are one and the same

Heartless, Tempest, for they are all slain,
And next movement we’ll slay them again




Do not tease
Do not follow me with such surreptitious desire
Be open, and give yourself wholly unto me

My flesh aches to know what darkness clouds your eyes
When you think of me
So, you must not tease

Do stars not burn?
Do hearts not yearn?
Let us

Let us feel impending heights
Then, let us crash
Into one… smoldering… heap



Hail Apollon, blessed Lord of the bow and song.  From you, inspiration originates, and from you, I receive my talents.  Thank you, my Lord, for gracing my life with your presence, and especially for the granting of this poetic gift.  My love for you is unmatched, unrivaled, and unequaled by any other, human or divine!


2 responses to “Apollonian Inspirations

  1. Pingback: Miscellanea « The House of Vines

  2. Pingback: Tempest, My Love | Queen of the Waiting Ones