Freestyle Writing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[toto45]

Hello Everyone!!!

Welcome to your free-write station!
Here You can write about whatever is on your mind.
Any genre is aloud here, so you can express yourself in any way shape or form and can be as long as you want!


First we are going over the rules!




Rules:


1 - No Scamming.
2 - No Foul Language.
3 - No Harassing.
4 - Have FUN!

Hope you enjoy your Free-Write experience!  

[toto45]

The Unwilling

Fresh out of journalist’s college, Jennifer always knew she’d have to start at the bottom. Nevertheless, as she sat squirming under the gimlet eye of the tweed jacketed and very scary chief editor of the Ridmorthampton Local Journal, she knew that there was an opportunity at hand that had to be grasped at any cost.

Ms Teresa Tresty, editor in chief, drew her stiff backed executive leather chair tightly into her leather topped desk, patted her tight bun with a white whizened hand and spoke in a frosty voice.

“Jennifer, you must understand that you are in a no win situation. Since our lead reporter is indisposed, I have no choice but to elevate you to this important post temporarily. If you make a mess of this job, which you probably will, I will make sure your reporter career is finished. If you manage to survive the enormous challenge of stepping into the boots of an ace reporter with 30 years’ experience, it will only be for a short time. Margaret will be back as soon as she’s recovered and you’ll be back to filing paper clips for the rest of your contract.”

Ms Teresa Tresty did not like cub reporters. She’d edited the Ridmorthampton Local Journal for more years than anybody could remember and most of the population in this elderly, small West Country town had very long memories. Not that there was very much to remember. Most things stayed the same from week to week and year to year and that was the way the elderly population liked it.

Jennifer had been a mistake. The sole ancient shareholder of the Ridmorthampton Local Journal had been visiting when Jennifer had dropped in unannounced with her CV and a determined willingness to undertake any job, however menial. The old man had taken a liking to her long corn colored hair, sprinkling of freckles around her nose and wide willing blue eyes, not to mention her young slim figure.

When she’d stood in front of the editor in chief’s desk making her pitch, he’d positioned his small round and rather fat body closely beside her. She’d not flinched and, from his point of view, she was immediately hired.

Ms Teresa Tresty, editor in chief, was given no choice. Naturally, she’d made sure that the terms of employment were demanding to the point of unreasonableness and the salary was so low that Jennifer was practically paying the Ridmorthampton Local Journal to be there.

On Jennifer’s first day, Ms Teresa Tresty had fully intended to relegate Jennifer to the basement with the job of sorting the library of back issues into date order and out of the subject order in which they had been placed by a previous work experience junior reporter ten years ago.

The car accident of her chief (and only) reporter (and close friend) immediately put paid to these plans. Worst still, the sole elderly shareholder had somehow heard about the accident and immediately and enthusiastically endorsed Jennifer’s written request to step into the vacant position.

All was not yet lost, though. Ms Teresa Tresty had not commanded her position of editor in chief for all these years without having a trick or two up her elegantly starched sleeve.

“There is a tradition that there are vampires in the hill mines in the easterly woods close to Ridmorthampton!”

Jennifer’s eyes widened, incredulously. ”

It’s time that we did an article on this folklore. We will run it in two weeks’ besides the births, deaths and marriages on page two so it had better be good. Any questions?”

“But vampires don’t exist,” said Jennifer.

“The local vampire stories exist and they have existed for many centuries so that is enough young Miss. Find somebody to interview and I want your copy within seven days, properly spelt and ready for publishing. Let me down and you’re out. There are people locally who could be helping us out in these difficult times.”

Ms Teresa Tresty was of course referring to her best friend at the WI who also edited the monthly church magazine and who could be relied on to do exactly what the editor in chief required, after a convivial coffee break to discuss local gossip, of course.

Five hours later, Jennifer almost wished that some other local person had been given this job. Endless telephone calls to incredulous local dignitaries, officials, assorted librarians and museum curators had drawn a complete blank. They’d been polite and some even asked her if, as a rookie, she’d been sent to get the equivalent of a glass hammer.

One or two of them had heard of vampire stories in the long distant past but none gave them any credibility.

As a last resort, while the sun was setting towards the dark hills to the East, Jennifer rang the local radio station. She was so desperate for a response that she even gave her personal cell phone number over the air.

The radio DJ had a gently chided her but she’d stuck to her guns. Now there was very little that could be done except wait and hope.

As Jennifer walked back to her room in her local low priced hostel along the quiet, tidy streets of Ridmorthampton with the rows of single story, wooden terraced homes with their wicker gates and white fences, she spotted Ms Teresa Tresty’s diminutive form contentedly sunbathing in her back garden by the pool.

The contrast between their different situations was so obvious that it was laughable. Vowing to get even, not mad, Jennifer moved on past, quietly, without calling out.

Amazingly, two hours after the radio interview during which she’d asked for anybody with information about local vampire legends to call her, Jennifer’s cell phone rang.

The caller sounded very young and shy.

“I heard you on the radio.” His voice seemed to come from far away. “You see, the thing is, I am a vampire.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes silently. This was all she needed.

She had expected loony calls but had hoped there would be none. She reached for a pad of paper she’d placed close to the telephone for this purpose, determined to be professional.

“How long have you been a vampire?”

“All my life really, vampires live for a long time. Some in my family are thousands of years old.”

“And your name is?”

“I’d rather not say. It’s all a bit embarrassing. You see I don’t really want to be a vampire but my parents insisted on it.”

“What is it about being a vampire that you don’t like?”

“Well it seems so mean to have to leap on people and suck their blood when they’re unwilling. Afterwards, they become the undead which can’t be very nice for them.”

“Perhaps you wouldn’t mind being a vampire if you were able to get their permission?”

“Well it would be I start, I suppose. I quite like the taste of blood. I suppose it is hereditary.”

“Would you be available for an interview and, perhaps, some photographs?”

“I’d be willing but … Is there any money involved?”

Jennifer stifled a giggle. The possibility of having a budget with real money to use to pay for a story was about as remote as the idea she was actually talking to a genuine vampire.

“I’m sorry, that would be out of the question.”

“Well, perhaps we could come to another arrangement.”

Jennifer’s face reddened and two bright sparks of red burned high up in her cheeks. She fought to keep her voice even.

“What exactly did you have in mind?”

“We could do a trade. You could get your pictures and I would get a willing subject.”

“It’s a bit steep to have to become the undead just for a few pictures,” said Jennifer, tightly.

“I wouldn’t have to bite very hard. Just a nibble really. You would hardly know it was happening. You wouldn’t even need to take the photographs because I have some already taken.”

“Sort of like a vampire models portfolio?”

“That’s right! I had ideas of becoming a model once, I’ve got long dark hair, dark eyes and many ladies find my personality amazingly magnetic.”

“I can imagine,” said Jennifer wryly.

“Is it a deal, then?”

Jennifer thought for a minute. The whole thing was totally ridiculous, but maybe there was mileage in it.

She wished she’d never started with this local newspaper. She didn’t care about the job any more or about the stupid person who thought he was a vampire.

“It’s a deal,” she said, carelessly.

“Have you got a pencil and paper to record the address so you can come around much later tonight. Don’t worry, if I’m asleep. Just have your nibble and drop the photographs in to the Ridmorthampton Local Journal for me to pick up in the morning. I’d really rather not know anything about it … I mean, while you’re nibbling.”

“Gee, thanks a million, you won’t be disappointed with the photographs, I promise. Knowing that you have agreed to be nibbled makes all the difference and you sound so young and lovely.”

Jennifer gave him the address, with a slow smile on her face.

“I’m going to ring off now and get an early night,” she said.

“Goodnight! My dear,” he said. “See you later!”

———-

The next morning, Jennifer woke with a start and, with a great deal of pleasure, reviewed the night before and her steamy date with the local radio station disc jockey.

He’d asked her out after they had gone off air, while the station was putting out some advertising. He’d sounded rather nice so she’d said yes and she hadn’t been disappointed.

Tall, fair haired, wiry and intelligent. They’d spent the evening laughing about the locals in Ridmorthampton and then walked through the night together by the river. His company had been wonderful and his kisses pressing. Jennifer had strict rules on first dates but was very much looking forward to the second when she planned to let her hair down.

So, despite her late night, Jennifer was bright eyed and bushy tailed when she entered the rather unusually quiet office of the Ridmorthampton Local Journal.

The short rotund owner of the Ridmorthampton Local Journal was already there, sitting behind the editor’s desk, and looked as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Early this morning, I was called out by the police to the most awful sight I have ever seen in my life. I’m afraid that the editor in chief of this newspaper passed away in the night in horrific circumstances. In short, she was attacked. The police said they’d never seen anything like it before in their lives. They will have a full inquiry and I’m finding it all most exhausting and very distressing. Nothing like this ever happens in Ridmorthampton.”

Serenely, Jennifer moved around behind him and gently massaged his neck.

“You don’t need to worry about anything,” she said. “I will make sure everything runs smoothly at the Ridmorthampton Local Journal.”

“You are so wonderful,” he said. “Of course, you will have to act up as the editor in chief. I know this will be a great burdon to you so soon but I will make sure you get the appropriate salary.”

As he left, Jennifer planted a gentle kiss on his left cheek, then turned around to survey her new domain.

Whether the young man who had called her last night had truly been a vampire, she didn’t know.

Doubtless, finding a skinny old woman in bed instead of a tender young maiden must have been a surprise which may have been upsetting for him and certainly for Ms Teresa Tresty.

Or perhaps it had been a hoax call and the man over the phone hadn’t turned up to the editor’s address that Jennifer had given him .

In any case, she’d spent the evening and most of the night with the radio station DJ so nobody would be asking her questions.

This morning, she’d turned up expecting to be fired and not really caring. Instead, she’d been put in charge of the whole newspaper and had got the job of her dreams.

She’d order extra copies of the Ridmorthampton Local Journal to be printed this week. A good murder always increased circulation!

Much better than silly old vampires.

The End

 

[toto45]

Dark Angel's Whisper

Her wings were smokey black

A tear from her eye made her face crack

A smile spread her rosy red lips apart

In her eyes was an end and a start



With eyes as black as coal

So dark they peer into my very soul

A shiver runs down my spine

A tear down my cheek at the same time



A voice rises out of the back of my mind

A voice so sweet and shallow it for sure was not mine

It was the dark angel's whisper

That would compel me to miss her



She was as beautiful as a dove

It was the beauty I just had to have

She began to rise into the sky

I fell to my knees as I began to cry



I begged her not to leave me

I needed her to set me free

I realized she had come to take a life

So I ended it with the sharp blade of a kitchen knife  

[toto45]

Winter's Kiss

A scream rent the still night air.

Winter raised his head. The brush in his right hand paused against his horse's sleek black flank. He frowned, calculating the distance from where he stood in the stable courtyard to the person who had shrieked. The human female voice could carry for miles on nights as calm as tonight. If she screamed again, he would be able to pinpoint her location to within one hundred metres.

A Watchman of the Validus bloodline, Winter had spent years honing his skills in tracking, hunting and killing to the highest echelon of perfection. They gave him the ability to ascertain that whoever the victim was, she was over three miles away.

He returned to his work, lovingly stroking the huge beast's glossy coat and murmuring soothing words to him. It had been too long since he'd had the chance to ride. The rotation of duties within the household and Hyperion's plan to spread their empire wider across Europe had left him with longer shifts at the gate. It was an honour to protect his lord, but long nights spent braced against the freezing winds that scathed the landscape in this part of Russia were tiring and left him little time before dawn to ride. His eyes closed. Honour wasn't the only good thing to come of standing guard from sunset to sunrise.

He saw her more often.

An image of her flashed across Winter's mind. Pale blonde hair hanging in waves down her back. Sparkling green eyes that glittered under the moonlight. A cherub's rosy lips that promised sweet kisses and an imp's smile that spoke of mischief. That image had branded itself on his mind the first night he had seen her as an adult. Every night that she passed and looked at him out of the corner of her eye, she burned her face a little deeper into his heart.

His horse kicked impatiently at the floor, scratching the scattered hay away from the dirt and leaving a long groove.

Winter patted Midnight tenderly on the neck and placed the brush down. Gathering the large black saddle, he positioned it on the horse's high back and let his thoughts wander while he buckled the straps.

They instantly roamed back to her. Many years had passed since Winter had first seen her. She had been a little girl then. Now she had become a beautiful woman. Perhaps soon she would find the courage to speak to him for longer. She had stopped a few times, always singling him out even though his black armour covered him from head to toe, leaving only the section across his eyes exposed. She had spoken to him tonight, asking him why he wore armour and guarded the mansion. He hadn't answered her. He had no place talking to humans when he was on duty.

There had been a beautiful lack of fear about her. Not even the sight of the naginata that he and the other Watchman held bothered her. Perhaps one day he could turn her. He cursed under his breath and tightened the last strap on the saddle. Those were not thoughts that he should be entertaining. His loyalty was to his lord and his bloodline first and foremost. He had a debt to repay. Once he felt as though he was worthy of asking his lord for permission to court the girl, he would, but until then he had a duty to do.

And that duty came first.

No matter what his feelings for her were.

A ride would clear his head.

A wolf howl sliced through the night.

Winter tensed and instinctively brushed his long heavy black cloak aside and reached for the sword hanging at his side. His fingers closed around the hilt as he calculated the distance to the howl.

Three miles.

Was the wolf after the woman?

Another scream shattered the returning silence. This time, it was a word.

"Niet!"

Winter's eyes shot wide, an emotion rushing into his heart that he hadn't felt in long years. Fear. The girl. He would know her voice anywhere.

With the preternatural speed and grace of his kind, Winter mounted the horse and bolted straight for the stable entrance. Midnight thundered forward, hooves pounding the dirt in a sure confident gallop. The gates barely had time to open as they approached. Winter tucked into the horse, bringing his feet up behind him along with the stirrups. The half-open wrought iron gates brushed his knees as they raced through, almost knocking the guards over.

Someone shouted something abusive in his direction.

He didn't have time to slow down. The moment they had turned onto the road, he urged Midnight on, lowering his feet again but leaning forwards against its neck. It stretched forwards too, mimicking his move and galloping harder as though it had sensed his desperation.

The bottom of Winter's chest armour dug into his hips as he rode. His long cloak streamed out behind him. The light flurry of snow became bitter darts of ice that cut into his eyes, forcing him to squint. He changed, his eyes turning purple to reveal his bloodline as his senses sharpened. The thundering hooves of his horse were the only sound in an otherwise still world. Winter snapped the reins. Midnight snorted and galloped faster, heading directly for the woods with no sign of slowing.

Winter willed the woman to make another noise, or the wolves to break their silence. He needed to get a fix on their location but it wasn't only that driving him to beg the woman to shout or scream. He needed to know that she was still alive.

He hunkered down against his horse's neck when they entered the thick forest of pines. Snow exploded from the branches as they crashed through them, heedless of the pain it caused them both. His armour would protect him from the whip-like branches of the trees, and his horse, Midnight, would go wherever he bid him to, regardless of whether it hurt.

A branch hit Winter directly across the black leather and metal mask covering his nose and mouth. It smacked the armour against his nose and forced a flinch from him as pain shot out in warm waves across his skull. He turned Midnight to his right and towards a more open area of forest. While the pain didn't bother him, it would dampen his senses and he needed those as sharp as possible.

He pulled Midnight to a halt in a clearing and scanned the darkness, stretching out with his senses and searching for her. The wintry weather hadn't managed to penetrate the dense trees and the ground was clear of snow, leaving him without a visible trail to follow. He breathed deep, catching a faint hint of her scent on the breeze. She had been here. He cursed. Where was she now?

Was she dead?

Had the wolves killed her already?

That thought made a dull ache settle in his chest. Winter refused to believe it. He wouldn't believe it until he saw her body for himself. Another deep breath caught a stronger scent. A growl rumbled up through his chest.

Not wolves.

Werewolves.

His eyes narrowed into dark slits between his black helmet and facemask. He stared into the distance as one hand left the reins and closed around the hilt of his sword. Blood would spill tonight. Not only because werewolves had dared to enter Validus territory. If they had killed her, no, if they had even touched her, they would die by his hand.

A distant scream reached his ears.

He pulled on Midnight's reins.

Midnight reared onto his hind legs, whinnied and then broke into a gallop. Winter sneered behind his facemask, his blood calling for violence.
* * * *

Nika walked the quiet winding path through the woods, wishing she had chosen to wear her thicker coat. Thick fake fur lined the long black coat she wore and it would have been warm enough under normal circumstances in late spring, but tonight was bitterly cold and the icy wind was searching, discovering cracks and places it could sneak into the coat and chill her to the bone. It was strange to have such wintry weather this side of spring. When she had left, the weather had been pleasant enough, and the snow had melted. Now it had come back with a vengeance. She had hoped the weather would be warm and sunny by the time she had returned from the city.

She folded her arms across her chest, trying to keep a little heat in. Her coat and dress reached the floor, both grazing the leaf litter and twigs that covered the path. The wind found its way into there too and blew upwards, snaking around her legs and sending her shivering. Her honey hair blew across her face as she turned and she clawed it away, thankful she'd had the good sense to take two long strands from beside her temples and plait them before tying them at the back of her head. It kept the bulk of her hair in place but left the long strands from that point downwards to dance in the breeze.

At least the snow couldn't make it through the trees.

Nika hummed quietly to herself while she walked, thinking about how nice it would be to arrive home and sit down in front of the fire. The thought of that warm blaze made the cold feel distant. She wasn't far from the village now. Soon she would be safe in her family's home, out of the frigid night and bleak woods. It felt like months rather than weeks since she had gone away to St. Petersburg. A smile touched her lips when she recalled walking past the mansion. He had been on guard duty again, silent and sentinel outside the gate with another man. She knew it was him. Those beautiful dark eyes had spoken to her as they always did, telling her words that her heart loved to listen to. He never looked at her, but there was always a strange emotion in his eyes when she stopped in front of him. The cold emptiness that used to fill them disappeared, leaving what her heart interpreted as warmth behind.

She didn't know who he was, or even what he looked like beneath his armour, but she knew one thing. She wanted no other man in this world.

Her heart lightened as memories of him came back, always protecting the gates of the large mansion. On the few occasions that she had plucked up the courage to speak to him, he had never uttered a word back at her. He hadn't even spoken tonight when she had mentioned the tales about the man he guarded. Terrible tales they were. Stories of demons and death, of bloodshed and violence. Her whole village whispered of them. They were right in a way. There was something different about the men there. In all the years that she had passed those gates, that man had never changed. Not when she was a child and not now that she was an adult. It was the same man. He hadn't aged one year in the twenty she had seen him. She was sure of it.

Through the trees, pinpricks of light flickered in the darkness. The village. She doubled her pace, thinking only of the warm fire and seeing her father again.

A howl sliced the night in two.

Nika froze to the spot, ears pricked and heart thundering.

Perhaps it had been the wind.

Low growls made her head snap around. Seven large dark shapes slinked out of the shadows. Their fur spiked in a line down their backs, wriggling like a snake when they shook themselves and growled at her. They stepped onto the path between her and the village. These were no ordinary wolves. She remembered them from her childhood. They had killed half of the village.

The one in front lowered its head and stared at her with bright amber eyes that promised a painful death. It snarled to reveal huge canines.

Nika screamed.

Before it could attack, she turned, dropped her bag and ran. She grabbed the front of her coat and skirt, lifting them so she could sprint unhindered, and headed through the woods in the direction of the mansion.

It wasn't long before her legs were beginning to tire. Their muscles strained under the pressure of running over the uneven ground and seized up as the fear broke into her mind, sending panicked thoughts pounding through her skull.

She was going to die.

The voice at the back of her mind told her to give up, but she wouldn't. She wasn't ready to die. It was something that happened to someone else, not to her or the people she loved. If she could make it to the mansion, she would be safe. The men there would fend off the wolves. The man would protect her.

Nika shrieked again as she tripped on a branch hidden beneath the frozen leaf litter and hit the ground hard. She immediately scrabbled to her feet and ran blindly into the forest, desperate to escape the wolves. Behind her came their thundering feet and heavy panting. They were closing in.

In the blink of an eye, it was over. The full weight of one of the wolves hit her in the back, sending her tumbling to the floor. Another howled. She turned and wrestled the wolf off her, scrambling across the dirt away from it. One of them grabbed her ankle, the thick leather of her boot the only thing protecting the delicate joint. It growled. Nika screwed her eyes shut and brought her hands up in front of her face as the others leapt at her.

"Niet!"

Nika kicked the wolf off her ankle, eliciting a whimper from it, and pushed against the others. Breaking free, she got to her feet and ran again. Moonlight broke through a gap in the trees some distance ahead of her, illuminating a small shack.

Her heart willed her to make it there. It was her only chance.

She screamed again when one of the wolves snapped at her, trying to grab her arm. She punched it across the face and kept running, desperate to survive.

A thundering sound joined the cacophony of wolf growls and snarls and her rough breathing. Nika looked ahead of her to see the shack and then a large black horse with rider. She reached out to him, a silent plea for him to help her, and then fell when the wolves pounced on her. Pain erupted in her leg. Her heart missed beats as claws and teeth tore through her clothes.

Her last hope left her when she found herself face to face with the largest wolf. Hot breath washed her face, stealing her own. She sent a prayer to God and stared into the wolf's yellow eyes, into the eyes of death.

The thundering hooves stopped. Above her the horse's legs appeared, kicking out as the huge black beast whinnied and snorted. The wolves scattered, leaving her pressed into the dirt and frozen leaf litter, petrified and in too much pain to move.

The horse snorted again as it came down onto all four feet beside her and the rider appeared in her tear-blurred view.

"Hand," he said in a muffled Russian voice and extended his towards her.

Nika feebly raised hers towards him. She wanted to take hold of that black gloved hand and escape this nightmare. He shook his impatiently. She struggled to move faster, weak from the white-hot pain burning inside every inch of her body. He bent forward on the saddle, caught her hand, and pulled her up into the air as though she weighed nothing. He settled her on the saddle in front of him. Pain shot up her leg and lanced her stomach. It stole her senses, filling them until she knew nothing but the warm pulsing throb. She was vaguely aware of his arm against her back and his hand on her waist, and the wolves closing in.

He turned the horse. Nika gritted her teeth and leaned into him. Each step of the horse's gallop jostled her on the saddle. The pain was unbearable, wracking her to the depths of her bones with each movement, but the alternative made her cling to consciousness and life. The wolves growled, closer now. The horse suddenly stopped and the man lowered her to the ground. Her legs buckled beneath her. He caught her before she could collapse and held her close to his hard chest.

"Run!" he said and she hazily wondered if he was talking to her. She didn't think that she could run. The pain in her leg was too intense, blinding. The horse whinnied. Was he talking to it?

Her heart beat faster, each pulse sending stabbing needles sweeping around her body. Darkness encroached at the edges of her mind, sending her thoughts fuzzy and her body numb. The man carried her into somewhere and set her down on something soft but lumpy. The sound of wood scraping and heavy objects slamming made her open her eyes. She frowned, vaguely aware that they were in the small shack she had seen and that he was barricading the door.

A wolf howl sounded just outside.

She flinched in pain when she curled up, the wounds on her body stinging. Her left leg burned as though it was on fire. She couldn't move it. She left it lying limp in front of her. The man looked at her and then around the small hut.

"Do not be frightened," he said, as though those four words could erase all her fear.

It crushed her chest and stole her breath. She struggled to suck in air, panic closing her throat and pain making the slightest thing too hard. Her leg was wet. She could feel the steady slide of blood down her arms. Oh God. She was going to die.

Her panic only increased when the dreadful sound of claws against wood filled the small shack. Snarls came in under the door and growls made her skin crawl. She tried to back away but the sound surrounded her, leaving her nowhere to go. The man stood at the door, his tall figure a black shadow in the low light. He didn't move. He stood sentinel with his hand on the hilt of the sword at his side.

The blade of which gleamed when he began to draw it.

The wolves scrabbled faster at the door and walls, as though they were trying to dig their way through. Nika reached out to the man, numb and petrified. He stepped towards the door and her heart slammed against her chest.

The two small windows on either side of the door exploded, showering her and the man in glass. The wolves leapt high, paws scrambling for purchase on the windowsill. They disappeared again only to attempt another go at getting into the building.

The man fully drew his sword.

She extended her hand further towards him. "You can't fight. There's too many!"

A terrible scream made them both jump. She had never heard such a horrifying and inhuman sound. A chill swept over her back and down her arms. The scream came again amidst a discordant symphony of growls and snarls. She closed her eyes and used the last of her strength to cover her ears, not wanting to hear the horse as it died.

Dreadful silence fell.
 

[toto45]

In the Gold Room

Her ivory hands on the ivory keys
Strayed in a fitful fantasy,
Like the silver gleam when the poplar trees
Rustle their pale-leaves listlessly,
Or the drifting foam of a restless sea
When the waves show their teeth in the flying breeze.

Her gold hair fell on the wall of gold
Like the delicate gossamer tangles spun
On the burnished disk of the marigold,
Or the sunflower turning to meet the sun
When the gloom of the dark blue night is done,
And the spear of the lily is aureoled.

And her sweet red lips on these lips of mine
Burned like the ruby fire set
In the swinging lamp of a crimson shrine,
Or the bleeding wounds of the pomegranate,
Or the heart of the lotus drenched and wet
With the spilt-out blood of the rose-red wine.