Please forgive me if this poem is crap. Until I came to this board, I hadn't written anything remotely creative for over fifteen years, but the vibe here is such that my need to do something is flooding back. Sooner or later I'll try my hand at a fanfic, but for now this poem is all I have to offer. It's a revision and expansion of something I put in one of the threads a few weeks ago. Sorry for the 'dense' nature of it, and all the alliteration, but I've always had a thing for the feel and structure of Anglo Saxon poetry. I love the rhythm and the taste of words on the tongue. If you read it, please be kind in your thoughts.
She holds her halting breath in wonder, hope awake at last
in wildly beating heart as Tara’s smile breaks free to sing
her love, her longing, faith, forgiveness not forgetting.
The healing hurt now hidden under need, as fingers touch,
and lips, and loving tears give sweet release to all
the soul-deep feelings fastened up inside, in joy and fear
they fall towards each other, merging in the moment
to the whole they have to be. Then hastening to the heart
as clothes are stripped away and skin meets skin,
the power and the pulse of passion driving their desire
at last, at last together, fast as fate intended, hunger
for the wholeness of their love a burning light. And thought
and word and will are things forgotten in the wildness of the
heart, and all the endless sorrows of the past are lost
in loving need as Willowhand, a hot and tender touch upon
the depth of Tara’s yearning, strokes the yielding softness
of her flesh, makes tremors dance in hot and molten core,
the moistened tip of wanting, wanton Willowtongue then
trails a tender path against the curves and swells of sweating
skin, from mound to breasting mound, to mouth and more,
then dipping down, to sound of sighs and softly murmured pleas,
where Tara waits, her warmth and wetness singing out
for touch, for taste, for breath upon the centre of her soul,
and arching, Tara lifts to meet the loving tongue, the moment
of the meld that makes her heart aflame, her lover’s hands
in hers she soars and knows the endless name of love she
cries at heaven’s height, her sweet and only girl that tastes
her heart and holds her soul so fast against the night, and
knowing love at last she laughs and weeps, and Willowhands
caress the wanting thighs as deeper still she drinks her
heart’s desire, her life, her love, her Always, evermore.
