Rhymer

Rhymer1

A ripple in the dream,
Rings spreading in the liquid of her mind,
Transcending time and space,
Her senses spread like legs on water,
Twitched and trembled
As something moved below,
An undercurrent projected,
A distant melody,
Sorrows sad sung refrain,
Rising up, like air from far below,
Against the tensile clutch
That kept this world at bay,
Until a thinker such as he,
Who basked beneath the somnolent summer sun,
Supine in matt of grass,
Disturbed the Bluebell bed,
Whose silent chimes conveyed
His soft sung gentle sorrow,
His message wrapped
In song and verse,
Words working through,
And breaching surface tension,
Until as evening fell,
And sun retired and Moon came out to watch,
The ripple breached and she came through,
On trembling dancing pure white horse,
Its mane and tail adorned with silk and bells
Its hooves shod bright in silver,
Although her eyes, alas, her eyes,
Deep pools of opalescent blue,
Reflected what they saw,
Deep depthless predatory pits
In which to lose a sleeping poet,
As she drank his gift within,
Silk gown and bodice tight,
She’d wield her dreadful beauty,
And reel the Poet in.

© Greg Richards

A Poem from my Rhymer Chapbook

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