A Rose SpeaksA rose speaks a special tongue,It knows just what to say,For it touches many hearts,In many different ways.It knows how to say "I love",Your captivating way.And that you're in my heart,For now, and everyday.It knows how to say thank you,For your friendship and support,For picking me up when I was down,Lending strength, when I fell short.It speaks for special occasions,Where words just cannot fill.For even one-thousand words,Can't give as much a thrill.To thee that touch my heart,I so want to hand a rose,But alas for now I can only,Give you some simple prose.
The Gypsy and The WolfThe Gypsy had seen it coming,No way for her to prevent,Again came unfair accusations,Villagers ready to torment.Surrounded..outnumbered...But she was ready to fight.No way to escape peril now,No more chance of flight.But this was for her honor,Simply saw no other way,She readied for the battleThat windswept, autumn day.So as the sun set,And Villagers circled in,She readied for the Undeserved,Pain and Punishment to begin.But as the first group,Attempted to grab her,The Corner of her eye,Caught a smoke-grey blur.Her heart stopped - It was him!Into the fray jumped - Her protector!The Lone Wolf from long before,Appeared like some sort of spectre.He jumped...in a high arc,Between Gypsy and the throng,Now her hopes were up, but...He Could fight for how long?Eyes yellowed in anger,White teeth seething,Menacing Deep growling snarl,Could this she be believing?Surrounded..outnumbered,But they were ready to fight,For the time had come,As Day fell into nig
ListeningThe Prince of Oddity, had a fair maidenHe no longer listenedTo the Words she saidSomething was missingFrom his heartAnd yet...She sang for him of how she felt,Not with soft...whispery...voiceOr rhythmical tune..But still - it was evident...Even from afar...Hazel eyes that longed to sparkleTo flash and splashAnd look deeply into his ownInto his acceptance againAnd, he turned, unnoticing.Full moist lips longed to flitover each blemish...each poreTo feel warmth and want againAs it had been for her beforeBut his busy-ness ruled him.Soft, knowing hands longed to touchTo be caressed and feel his strengthBut he only was enamored nowBy screen's glow - and games of follyAnd the pretty.... sought refuge.Elsewhere.A thousand miles away....An ear was listening.Unsure...but confident.Caring...but unsure.Of the Wanting. Knowing.
The ManipulatorAlone He sits In Darkness,Broken by Small Lamp,Summer Heat Surrounds,His Brow Trickles Damp.Playing the Voyeur,A Surfing Malcontent.Scanning Pages Like,Bloodhound After Scent.Hark! Finally Found,The Vision to Excite,But Now Comes the Time,To Manipulate Just Right.Copy First Comes,Then Into Software Paste,Now to Modify the Layers,Careful, Without Haste.Smoothly Caress the Edges,With the Selection Tool.Rounding Graceful Curves,Gets Excited Like Some Fool.Creates a Textured Overlay,Brightens up some Spaces,Sharpen up Some Features,Skin Tone He Replaces.Taking Model's Beauty,Something Perhaps Bold,Creates a New Image,Smudging out the Old."Enjoy The Challenge"Artist does infuse,But is it Really,Him What Does Amuse?Is it a Feeling More,Primal than This?That Hearkens Back,Allowed to Reminisce...Using His Software,As a Sort of Portal,To Perhaps Embrace,Femininity Immortal.Does the Artist Really,So Lovingly Embrace,The Works He Creates - OrThe Object i
Who's Your Hero?Who's Your Hero?Something I Ponder,I'd Like to Know,Within your Mind,Who's Your Hero?Who's the One,That Inspires,Of Whose Stories,You Do Not Tire.Who Saved You,From Dark Deep Abyss,And In Troubled TimesGave More Than a Kiss.The One Person,Who Saved a Life.Or Negotiated for,And Stopped Strife.Somehow, Someway,Are always There,And Shows You,They Always Care.Who Has Taken,The Role of Healer,In Mind and Spirit,A True Believer.So Share With Us,That One Whose Name,That Without You'd,Not be the Same.