BY THIS AUTHOR
Grand Profession
“but now alas,
All measure, and all language, I should pass,
Should I tell what a miracle she was”
June
We arranged the chess pieces
on a silver serving tray
as a mingled array of white and black
for corresponding squares - so that,
despite my efforts, the Queen could not attack...
Spiders
Tied to a web,
a cocoon of things said.
And eight creeping limbs,
wrap up to embrace a glimpse.
Universe of open eyes,
attempting to swallow up the skies.
The hidden poisonous threat,
a bitter venomous salvation ahead.
The solid outer shell,
swaying like a funeral bell,
unites the created dream,
with a single capturing beam.
Seductive slowly descending dance,
and the prey is captured in trance.
Tied to a web,
a cocoon of regret.
By JPV