![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I have been set the task of writing a poem for the assignment this week for my DROME Creative Writing class. The subject is a tree.
Here's my poem ...
Beneath the spreading, moonlit shadows
Two shadows dance; a primal rite
Of union, to the tune of gasps and moans
As Mind bows to the needs of Flesh.
Against the coarse, quivering bark they lean,
Passion competing with watchfulness,
Transmigration of forms' gross movement
Into subtle tactile ardour and tenderness.
Fear of discovery steals from their rapture.
Forbidden, these lovers' stolen fruit -
To other shadows both these shades are pledged
In bare and barren bond of habit.
Like falling leaves, the meaning is found;
Shadows once tense now slump in lethargy.
Soon they rise, and dress, and guiltily steal away
As brachiate shadows sweep the bare ground.
Copyright © 2005. All rights reserved.
Here's my poem ...
The Sating of Flesh
Beneath the spreading, moonlit shadows
Two shadows dance; a primal rite
Of union, to the tune of gasps and moans
As Mind bows to the needs of Flesh.
Against the coarse, quivering bark they lean,
Passion competing with watchfulness,
Transmigration of forms' gross movement
Into subtle tactile ardour and tenderness.
Fear of discovery steals from their rapture.
Forbidden, these lovers' stolen fruit -
To other shadows both these shades are pledged
In bare and barren bond of habit.
Like falling leaves, the meaning is found;
Shadows once tense now slump in lethargy.
Soon they rise, and dress, and guiltily steal away
As brachiate shadows sweep the bare ground.
Copyright © 2005. All rights reserved.
