MoonChimes
Deep inside her heart it is pounding,
beating lightly, starlight falling,
through an opening thatis melting,
slowly...
Images incomprehensive,
deeper shadows parting slightly to unveil whatis so unlikely,
something...
Hiding... just outside...
the inside...
that is lost...and turned...and twisted...
So divinely...
Fleeting
From what she knows but still escapes her,
canit she feel the innate gesture,
so compelling yet elusive, something there but inconclusive,
seeking...
feeling...
finding....
A gentle touch as feathers dancing...
MoonChimes.
Parting from the midnight mists,
a soft caress of silken lips,
she traces movement in her hips, it moves her.
The sound is there but really not,
it sings inside her mind so soft,
to cry in darkness, solitude,
her mistress calls, a secret tune...
MoonChimes.
(c) Stan Porch, 2000
The Curse of the Paladin
Full moon reigns on shaded night,
creatures roam - a horrible sight.
Frightening monsters, but not for long,
for they must scatter by break of dawn.
Run they must, for safe of night,
to stone they turn at dimmest light.
On comes traveler, a lonely man,
a mortal yes, but not without plan.
Denizens streak to unwary prey,
this he detects, yet says nay.
Closer they creep, no sign of fear,
as they move close he sheds a tear.
Not for himself, but for those who stalk him,
yet this he must do - or risk dearest of kin.
These wretched souls, so horribly beaten,
punished for eternity, no shining beacon.
As they move for the kill, he draws a sword.
A glistening blade, that of the lord.
Without a sound they slowly crumble,
sent back to the ground which silently rumbles.
The dark king, beaten again,
will not hesitate to replace his men.
Another victory, yet a sorrowful loss,
for those he has slain, were once of his cross.
(c) Stan Porch, 2000
The Calling
Hush, be silent, a presence,
feel it there?
Dark and evil, succubine,
awaiting to ensnare.
The darkness permeates our tryst,
helpless not - but blind.
A rushing pulse, a shiver,
our spirits intertwined.
The air coalseals , an unseen hand,
a power pure and true.
A tattered scroll, at one unfurled,
our essence born anew.
Juxtaposed the forces,
tension mounts untold.
Silence shattered, secret words,
a battle, truth unfolds.
Sacred diction, hidden meanings,
so distorted by the swine.
So many lost and broken souls,
all drunken with his wine.
The whirlwind lifts us from inside,
the calling is at hand.
Don your robes, play your part,
the finale shall be grand.
Look deep inside, the time has come,
to stand up from the chair.
The dragonis loose, his end is near,
and all of Terra is his lair.
Written by Stan Porch, 2000