In a Spider’s Webb …
We all have times in our lives where we regret the impact on our well being, brought about by the actions of others. This free verse, with a slight twist, is from a dark time in my past.
In the gossamer of a spider’s webb
I leave my heart suspended
and my cotton bud tears
fall heavily towards unhallowed ground.
In your blustery, carefree day,
you stop and laugh at my pain.
I glance sideward’s with a smirk
and you travel on your way, again.
Black lace holds no scintillation,
not even for an hour,
my muse in sensuous mode,
entwines with my lovers desire.
My appetite is on fire
with no notion to halt the quest,
as fathom eyes black as night, and cold,
would break inside the hidden depths.
Red satin in the candle light,
rapturous eyes hold my gaze,
for all the pain doth rise
to reach the risqué time again.
Your touch shivers away
from a devils coil,
to seek the black heart beyond,
as this temptress holds
thoughts of red and gold, and recalls a sultry song.
My muse is wild, abandoned,
writhing within the cold flames,
just as passion in the night
is covered in blankets and restraints.
This evil soul should dance
with the wind to mesmerize your heart,
for the shadow in the gable knows
I am biding my time to depart.
This tantric beauty turns good men bad,
reaching for their souls,
and stops not once to see their fate,
as hells door shuts quietly closed.
An angel she once was,
now consumes your soul with passion,
if you stand too close, beware
I laugh deliciously, and revel in your obsession.
The cloak of mist is first to succumb
to disrepute in the cold dark night,
this bitch with evil dark eyes
hovers above your blood red lips, smiling with delight.
And still the tears, cold as ice,
scorns her lovers’ heart, now exposed,
for without reasonable doubt
this temptress conquers lives and spits upon your soul.
In the darkness to come
I hear you scream
unrelenting for release,
but this witch your manhood created is too far out of reach.
You buried me in cold damp clay,
left me with no smile,
but now I laugh the most evil laugh,
and you I once more revile.
With venomous tongue
I taste your fear,
you are left screaming with delight,
before the close of day, you will wish again for night.
Because in your dreams,
your visions are so disturbed,
as my gentle, gaily laughter
commands your every spoken word.
© 2017 ADonaldson
I came to writing later in life, but according to my English teacher at school, I always had a vivid imagination and a gift of the word. I am not sure if I agree with that, but I do enjoy writing. Now at the age of 60, I still work; and I love the time that I spend with my grandsons, who have been both a source of inspiration in my life, and one of the most challenging rewards. It is true what people say, and that is with age comes a wisdom and a sense of peace not experienced before in life.
I am still learning, life is nothing but diverse.