Author: Rick Ryckman
Drifting into the velvet darkness.
The hour of midnight comes falling softly.
Where wondrous dreams are created.
Memories come evoking my desires.
I cannot resist her seductive murmurs.
Hungrily I come to feast at her bounty.
I am impaled into the lust of her garden.
Upon her face a rainbow of scarlet flows.
My eyes are mesmerized in there yearning.
Her walls are closing tightly.
Her warm chamber flutters fragile as a butterfly.
Comments on this poem/writing:
|Terrie* (18.104.22.168) -- Friday, January 5 2007, 01:12 am|
Mr. Ryckman, i gotta tell ya, your poetry hypnotizes me! no i'm not weak , i posses a heart that appreciates and enthralled with beautiful writes which is a good thing, somethin' i know your 'lil lady cain understand and appreciate..sometimes i caint escape the beauty of the landscape of the paintin's ..what i find so impressive is that after i'm finished readin' from start to finish, this is gonna tickle you wildly...~giggle~ it amazes me to read your poetry from the end to the beginnin' ...
unusual ? yea i am..heh..
what i found is that it takes nothin' away from the meanin' of the poem.. Beautiful work sweetie absolutely BEAUTIFUL ! keep that pen fumin'...
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