|
LordJereth -> Predation (5/19/2004 12:19:34 PM)
|
This is a poem I submited for an erotic poetry contest and summarily won. The rules were as follows:
Create a poem with the following words included. You may use past, present or future tenses.
blue
hale
belie
ruffle
carpet
read
imbibe
gift
Predation.
Lo, the Hunter.
The mirror belies my countenance
in the shadows of dusk's blessed blue indifference.
"Give us, this night our daily bread..." I whisper
as I search the gloom for the spoor of my prey.
Hark, she trembles at the sough of my approach,
unknowing as to it's source, intent or direction.
As I spy her through the darkness,
the old instincts take precedent,
and the pact is sealed.
My flight is silent and as I near my
chosen victim I take her by the mane
and jerk her roughly to me,
all the better to break her defenses
and dash her emotional guard apon
the rocks of my need.
She crumples in fright into my darkly awaiting embrace
Our gazes lock and she recognises her fate
in the windows of my soul.
A plea on her lips is silenced as I imbibe her essence
and rip the ruffle violently from her throat.
I read the buried need in the movements of her form
and stoke the fires of her startlement with
a barely purred growl and the proximity of
my craving for her flesh.
As she moves to break my embrace,
instead I grip a fleeting appendage and pull
her crashing to the carpet of loam that surrounds
this, our terminal universe.
As her form is prostrated before me, a gift, a sacrifice,
a hale offering to my hunger,
I pounce apon her and cover her with my being.
I sample her skin with nibbling bites
and probe her varied defenses with my fingers.
The ancient wound opens to my touch
and begins to weep as the inevitable conclusion draws near.
As I sense her aproach to the edges of sanity,
I heft my weapon from it's hiding place,
a thick and blunt instrument I have grown to know,
And gently tease her with it's knowlege.
And as the exquisite moment,
caught as if in a loop of infinate grace,
draws to a close, I plunge this pugel home
to the hilt - and the moment is past.
Manic edacity is my name,
I can no longer think, nor postulate
on her fate or that of my own.
Animal need drives me now.
And it is a terrible thing in it's intensity and audacity.
I plunge the weapon again and again,
through the ancient wound which now is torpid
and trembling at the force of my assualt.
She screams my name and it fuels
this terrible hunger to fever pitch.
The final barrier splits and gives way.
A flood of heat and moist power surges through us both,
inundating us, taking us and twisting us with it's finallity.
Her soul and essence is mine,
a keepsake for eternity in the palm of my hand.
And just as the spirit leaves her eyes...
In this last moment of consciousness ...
...
...
She kisses me gently a final time,
professes her eternal love of me,
and asks me to wake her at 6 for work.
copyright©Lord_Jereth - April 13, 2003
[8D] LJ
|
|
|
|
