The Strange, Undead Bard

The Strange, Undead Bard

Originally posted on Der Erzahler's Musings:


He walks through the graveyard
Playing an eerie tune on the violin
Like some strange, undead bard
Calling the dead entombed within

Calling the dead entombed within
To dance a strange and eerie dance
Along to a tune so steeped with sin
It gives the evil ones a second chance

it gives the evil ones a second chance
Calling out to their tormented souls
To dance with him the Devil’s dance
Corrupting the good is his only goal

Corrupting the good is his only goal
His fingers are skeletal and thin
He walks around devoid of soul
Playing an eerie tune on the violin

Playing an eerie tune on the violin
He walks through the graveyard
Calling the dead entombed within
Like some strange, undead bard

© Der Erzahler 2014

* Image from Pinterest, source uncredited

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These Things A Prayer

Originally posted on Radiating Blossom ~ Flowers & Words:

As a child, I had a patron saint,

St. Theresa of Lisieux, the Little Flower.

The saint of small things:

a washed dish, raked leaves,

clothes hung on the line,

these things a prayer.

Sometimes I remember

that my life is like all others,

the past gone, the present here,

the future, what future?

Sometimes I remember

to look for the present

under the pepper tree.

There I find a green prayer

in the rustle of leaves,

a brown one, as silent bugs

burrow in dry earth,

or white, like the cat,

stretched warm in the sun,

still, on the stone wall.

~~ Tere Sievers ~~

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Sensory Overload

Originally posted on S.J's Blog:

Blindfolded eyes
Other senses enhanced
Soft teasing feathers
Or petals from plants
Kisses and licks
Wetting the skin
Breath blown over
Sending shivers within
Flesh tightens
Puckers and peaks
Cold chains bind
Warm wood beneath
Held in place
So ready to taste
Each touch makes her guess
What’s coming next
Leather covered hand
Strokes and slips down
Parting petaled folds
Sinking deep in
Teasing with one
Caressing with two
Stretching with three
Before pushing in four
Gasping and moaning
Wanting to writhe
Held tight in place
By his perfect binds
Thumb rubs bud
Contracting begins
Grasping fingers
Gripped tightly within
Essence flows
Over leather clad flesh
That pushes her closer
To climax withheld
Till words of command
Allows pleasure overload
Hand still caressing
Till contractions cease
Pleased with his girl
His precious little one
He whispers softly
That the fun has just begun…

@ S.J Warner 2014.
(Picture sourced from…

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Foraging for Food

Originally posted on Source of Inspiration:

wild strawberry

Gathering food in the floresta
fruits warm from the sun
berries, roots, nothing
in styrofoam or plastic
wrap, no tin cans covered
in rat droppings.

Fresh greens picked
and eaten by a stream
food created by God
not in a laboratory of
greed. No wonder we
are overweight, filled
with diseases caused
by toxic substances in
our food, water and air.

Food and water have become
weapons of mass destruction.
Chemtrails fill our lungs with
slow death. GMOs destroy our
future food supplies.

Let’s bring back
wild strawberries
savored on a summer day
salads sweet and fresh
crisp and delicious
fruit with natural flavor
good health for all.

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She Waits

Originally posted on Sea of Desire:

she waits

She says she is needy like it’s a bad thing. But she has yet to fully grasp that her soft vulnerability balances her simmering passion perfectly.  Having needs does not make one selfish, it makes her desirable.  The man that can pacify those needs while igniting her inner light; he would thrive on the joy of satisfying such an ethereal creature.  The true challenge, of course, is deciphering what she truly needs from what she has been taught she should want.  It would take patience and a steady hand to peel away the decayed lies that cover her true sense of self.  It would take a man certain of his own fortitude to withstand her fearful fury when he coaxed her into unknown realms that kissed her darkest fears. It would take a man that treasured the value of her intellect more than the sweet curve of her breast. Her…

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Originally posted on hastywords:

The first duet I ever did was this one.  Originally posted October 8, 2012.  What has changed for me Since 2012.

-I have been standing still watching the world pass by.

-I am running down a hallway that just keeps getting longer and I can’t catch up.

-I can’t get back to the place I felt I had finally belonged, the place where I felt a part of things; I lived for the briefest of moments before it slipped from my grasp.

-I am stuck on pause.

Edward Hotspur and I wrote this together for fun. He is amazing and you should check out his blog! I changed my part up a bit so if you want to figure out who wrote what you will have to read his too! :) Enjoy!!!!

Never stop wanting me

Or haunting me

Or I’ll fade away

Never stop thinking of

Making love


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