Poem, by Me.

[Valkyrie]

Was encouraged last year to experiment with different writing styles. The following poem is what has finally resulted. It's not terribly good, but I kinda like it anyway. Know you lot are gonna rip it to shreds but what the fuck.


Lilith & Mahal (a working title cos I'm shit at titles)

Lilith waits alone in darkness
Wonders if Mahal will come
Should she greet with violet kisses
Or should she feign amused boredom?
Will he creep around the bushes
Or stride boldly to her door?
Will it be just once and only
Or will she want him back for more?

Mahal is ready, he's not forgotten
Lilith's invite, her siren call
Should he stroll and keep her waiting
Or should he hasten, reveal his thrall?
Will she be expecting tokens
Something to express his awe?
Or will the coppers just be wasted
And she firmly shut the door ?


Both are nervous, taut excitement
Both are set to keep their cool
Neither wanting to look too eager
Neither wanting to look the fool


Lilith stands beside the window
Round the curtain, furtive peeks
Whispered footsteps in the garden
Is this now the man she seeks?
A figure stands below in shadow
Luck does cause the cloud to break
And there he stands, gilt in the moonlight
Her breath it quickens, heart it quakes.

Mahal at the trellis standing
Finds a handhold starts to climb
Feels like a figure out of legend
Clutching stolen columbine
At the sill he briefly pauses
She's left the window open wide
As he thanks the God of Hopeless Causes
With care and quiet he slips inside.


Both are here now, hesitating
Both unsure of what to say
Neither knows just what to do now
Neither knows how to make a play


Lilith's silence exudes dark power
Mahal unable to resist
Falls to his knees his gift thrust forward
Compelled to sate her every wish
Her hands outstretched she moves towards him
He trembles as she draweth near
Her grace so raw she is the Tiger
He knows he's but the startled Deer.

Mahal's beseeching eyes command her
Lilith's small hand does bid him rise
And to the couch she shyly leads him
Her breast awash with butterflies.
His mouth is dry, his mind a maelstrom
She smiles so sweet it crushes him
As time stands still lips meet in passion
And so their secret does begin.


Now we must leave, pull closed the curtain
Leave the love struck to their tryst
I hope this small glimpse will give you pleasure
And hope that romance can exist.

[Fitzburger]

I admire your use of slightly archaic words and that the text describes a snapshot of time in the life of doggers.

[Valkyrie]

thanks fuckwit

[bazman]

purty story. meter's a bit erratic. i like a rhythmic poem, me.

[Valkyrie]

depends how you read it Baz, meter works for me just fine. BUT you aren't the first person to say that so .....


Tough, deal with it.

[bazman]

dealt!

[Fitzburger]

Ditto

[Valkyrie]

It now has a 'proper' title.


Act 1, Obscene 2.