Red Roses
She answered her front door
The bouquet, ceiling to floor
Roses, red and silky, fragrant
Behind them stood the Count
Whom she soon hoped to mount
(without seeming too flagrant)
But first, dinner at Le Grande
Champagne warming their bond
Holding her hand, caressing her wrist
Then back to her secluded place
Where, in their first embrace
The bond was sealed, her neck kissed
She transformed by the light of the moon
He called it the taste of maroon
He was a man of great resources
Their gory nights, filled with laughter
And they both lived forever, ever after
Until global war killed all their sources
Wooed
Chewed
Screwed
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For dverse, the prompt was, of course, vampires.
My Favorite Bouquet
Buy me no roses, I begged him.
Spare me the sight of their bloom.
They wither and die,
and depress such as I,
but I do so adore their perfume!
Two things – a vial of rose essence,
The other, a sunrise sweet kiss.
I love a nice gift,
one that gives me a lift:
Love, your self is my ultimate bliss.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Just because we’ve been married 13 years doesn’t mean I don’t love Lex more every day. May our Creator grant us the gift of growing old together. Peace, Amy
For Poets United, my poetic hearth and home.
