She Of The Craft

Poem By David Lacey

She enters the room
All eyes turn
All eyes burn
Her skin

Her skin is cold
Colder still to the
Touch of tender
Lustful gazes

In Crazed mistrust
Of the heart
Of God
Of Man
Of Woman
We are lost

Lost are we
Lost to the touch
Of angel dust

She leaves the room
Leaving them chained
Manacled
Bondage bound
Lost unfound
They remain
Insane
Within the insanity
Of the night that
Beckoned them to
Forest depths

Her skin is ash
Her skin is frost
Her skin is sand
Her skin is lost.

Scarred earth
Charcoal soil
Freshly cut primrose
I’m bleeding
I’ll heal
Though thorns
Have cut me deep

Can u see them?
Hear them?
They dance in shadows
Circles by twilight

Dead flowers
Ruined temples
Decay
Silent streets
Can you hear voices?
The ghosts are
Witness to soulful murder
Vultures claw at the jelly sweet eyes
Of the bodies that line the streets.
Blood Red Rivers flow liquid death
Over mangled maggot ridden corpses.
Does it make you feel alive?
Does it incite you in the motion to rise?


Where is she now?
What is she doing?
Is she laughing?
Is she crying?
Does she remember my name?
Will she sing for me?

In knowing her to exist
New temples erect
In honour of her presence upon this plain.
She a wild snaked eyed goddess
She a beauty of raven tones
Deserves the worship of the gods

Fire
Earth
Water
Air

She of the craft
She who smiled and stirred the alchemy of my soul.
She who opened up her heart to me upon our first encounter
I miss her, the girl I met but once
Within some ecstasy fuelled dream time sanctuary
Where we danced a thousand years
In each others arms
We felt safe
So far away from the harm of vicious men


Where she now?
What is she doing?
Is she laughing?
Is she sighing?

Does me remember the songs we played?
Does she wish to lift her chest in the
Knowledge that tomorrow never knows?

It’s been too long now without contact.

I invoke the spirit of unison to bring forth this angel into my life once more
For she is all that I could ask for
She of the feathered claw.
Where is she now?
Why isn’t she knocking at my door?

All it is I can hope for is that the fates have sewn a tapestry of beatific vision
With I and my fairy princess hand in hand
I pray that we will one day walk this land as one in unison
Holding dear the love that paints the sky pastel shades by sunset.

For once words can not express
Nor colours paint the mood that she brought me to embrace
And so I keep my faith in fate beside faith in the choices we make as our own.
I keep faith that once day we may call the same hearts home.
She my snake eyed goddess of the highest esteem.
Foreplay
Worship
Devotion
Undying Loyalty
Love in motion.
Truth
Trust
Love
Lust
All you feel
Is all that’s real
And I know that I would feel her beyond eternity’s wall of sleep
I know that I shall keep real and ready the love I hold for her
Though I may grow old and tired of waiting
To meet her once was promise enough that an angel such as her
Would not grace once alone this life of mine.
So father time
So father sky
So mother earth
Hear the forest child cry
For I am sighing in and out of agony
With the thoughts of never knowing true the touch of her flesh again
Allow her to remember the connection we felt
May she dream of me as I dream of her?
Hope
Hope is all I have
Hope of once more hearing the words
I love you.

Comments about She Of The Craft

Wonderful magical write on angels and what their love can bring, you take us through the apocholypse senario of ignoring her portents of doom and through the gloom to hope and love in the final lines! Perfect 10 but there was a typo 'one' instead of 'once' twice up there somewhere. Smiling at your romantic poetic heart. Thoroughly enjoyed this but must go eat Lunch now! Tai


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