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Article Communautés Concours Essai Multimédia Personnelles Poèmes Presse Prose _QUOTE Scénario Spécial | ||||||
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agonia ![]()
■ Au pied du grand chêne ![]()
Romanian Spell-Checker ![]() Contact |
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-05-21 | [Ce texte devrait être lu en english] |
I spoke my simple tongue
fresh to the air, in a lilt that sweeps the harvested fields up to the mountain of being where wind to earth embrace and love In the dialog of the Soul. This Raven flew deep and full upon my thoughts, between my dreams her squawk filled to the depth of me wallowing in her song of life I transfixed to the long strands these flaxen wings of her form danced the slow embraced twirl that drew within and held us both so tight Into the twilight's beam. Her complexion fills me like the moon and haunting figure that draws my loins fills my heart to the longing beat That thrives where ever she roams. her words like the butterfly embraces so much of my own that I cease to be other than what she is for my eyes behold her craft, her form that bewitched my soul and haunts my mind This woman, this Raven that calls From high in the Kentucky peaks. Alisdaire O'Caoimph
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