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Wormwood
6 topics   3 posts
Where are my minions?
Will none attend me in the whispering woods?
And paint my lips with honey mead
And sing to me on lute and harp?

Have they all gone frolicking in the meadow
Caught in some fairy ring
While their beards grow long
And their wits grow dim?

Have they lost their mind
On toxic mushrooms
And heady absinthe?
Has the green fairy passed this way?

Sleep children
I will haunt your dreams
And steal your memories
And bend them to my own desires.

0 topics   1 posts
ah, the green fairy. spent many a night howling at the moon with her. she is a temptress and a trickster. glazed eyed nick, not too quick when drinking absinthe thick! nicely done Lady Shalimar, glad to meet another forest dweller.

0 topics   3 posts
Dreaming of whispering woods, a night thief...
So tired...

Frolic?
 
Memories stolen and bent, 
Minion?

Sleeping, bent to awake to attend...

0 topics   3 posts
A very Interesting poem of seduction!
I will never think of absinthe and wormwood the same way.
I like this contrast of bitter and sweet. Sweet minion and bitter seductress could make a perfect harmony.




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