Archive for the ‘The Writer’s Circle’ Category

My darling,

It has been ages since you came to visit. I have missed your company, longed for it. No one else comes to visit any longer; I rely upon you for news of the outside world. It just broke my heart to see you so sad at our last visit. I am not sure why you feel the need to keep company with that silly woman. I know; you don’t want to hear it, however I must be honest with you. You are the reason I get out of bed in the morning, how could I ever consider less than full honesty? Yes, she is your mother, but look at the lengths she will go to, just to keep us apart. She’s a cruel beast of a woman. Always taunting you, cutting you down.

It’s very late now; well past my bedtime. I just can’t sleep. You used to call me every night before bed. I don’t think I’m able to sleep more than an hour or two without hearing your voice. Can you keep a secret? I think that someone is putting something in my evening tea to make me sleep because I always wake up in a fog, no memories from the night before. It worries me.

Everything is all jumbled up inside me, tearing me apart. You and Richard are no longer friends? Or is Richard dead? I just cannot seem to remember anything. There is a pain so deep within my heart that I am afraid I might scream from the weight of it all.

The others tell me you haven’t been to see me since the accident. Why do they say that? Your visits are fewer and further between, but I just know that we walked down to the pond and had a picnic last month. Oh Richard, why haven’t you been back since then? I beg of you; please call me. I need to sleep peacefully, just once. I need to hear your voice. I miss you so.

At your side forever,
Letitia

The Lady and the Dragon Lord©

Posted: Tuesday, 17 April, 2012 by deacongray in Poetry, The Writer's Circle
Anya Ligeia Rakoczy
The Lady and the Dragon Lord©
She slips, unnoticed, from the castle keep,
The cliffs she walks beneath a crescent moon.
Plucking the petals of a blood red rose,
And weeping for the love she lost too soon.The knight who sought her hand forever lost,
Her father’s men lay ambush, he was slain.
Without him, she is desolate and lost
Her heart a jewel refined by love and pain.

The beating of great wings blows back her hair.
She drops the rose in terror, turns to run.
Claws in her shoulder light but holding fast:
“Turn back to me, my love, my darling one.”

His scales shine crimson, hellfire in his eyes,
Wings span the sky and blot the moon and stars
“Know you not me,” his voice the softest growl,
“I said I would return, and here you are.”

Trembling, she looks into his glowing eyes
The promise that he made revealed anew.
He lifts the rose and puts it in her hand
“My darling.” She is awestruck. “It is you.”

“I am no longer gentle knight nor man,
My promise have I kept for good or ill.
I shall not stay, you cannot love me now
Bid me farewell, but know I love you still.”

With gentle hand she strokes his armored skin
“I am your lady always, you my lord;
Take me tonight, where you dwell, so shall I.
You are my Love, my Knight, my Shield and Sword.”

(dedicated to the One who is my Shield and my Sword, this 17th day of April, 2012)