Narrative Poetry

Welcome to the newest section of the site. Since I have started writing so many of them...I have decided to give them their own section. Enjoy.

  1. Alexander's Lament
  2. Words of Alexander's Lover
  3. My hikes as a Girl
  4. You, me and my slinky black dress

 

 

 

  Back to Main Poetry Page Back to Main Page

 

 


 

 

 

Alexander's Lament

My name is Alexander
And I am a slave to
the touch of
The only woman that,
I desire
She allows me to see her
only when she
wants me
And I spend most of my
life waiting
We meet in twilight hours
And I wait in her garden
On the countryside
Longing for her
to emerge from the
Shadows
Always in hiding
I feel like a secret
desire she keeps to
only herself
To be 26 and to do so well
In my life
and to spend half of
My waking nights
Waiting for this woman
Makes me feel helpless
I blame something in the air
of Venice
That makes me long for such passion
And my father for never warning me
And when she comes
Down the path

From the place I sit to
Watch the breath come
from my mouth
Under the stars
To the candlelit room
Where we lie
Is a blur
This desire is blinding to me
And always, I hope
That after being there
For hours
Quickening her breath
And hear her cries
That she may become
A slave to me
That we may change places
That I may feel myself
To be a stronger man
But here I am again under
A pale full moon
Sitting on this stone
After getting word
From her messenger
Waiting for her to arrive

 

 

 

 

© 2000 Cloudwalkers

Back to Main Page

Back to Menu  Back to Main Poetry Page

 


 

 

Words of Alexander's Lover

Alexander walks the
Cobblestone pathways
of Venice
Drenched in his loving
For me
And often, I watch him
Moments after my messenger
Must have given my notes
To him
Sitting and waiting
Sometimes I arrive before
Sometimes after
Him
With every moment that
passes
Looks of wild anticipation
Covers his face
Never knowing when I
will appear
I enjoy this


I am drunk with the idea
Of what it must mean to
him
To hold me
To be with me
In my little candlelit garden house
Some may think me cruel
but I have seen men like him
Before
Those so good with business
Those so good with women
That devour weakness like
fresh gellato
And he will tire of her
So quickly
I prefer him this way
I prefer being a woman of power
Soon I will go down
so he will have to wait
no longer.

© 2000 Cloudwalkers

 

Back to Main Page

Back to Menu  Back to Main Poetry Page

 

 

 


My hikes as a Girl


I now wish that I had pictures of places
that I liked to to go hiking when I was in
High School and Middle school.
Big rolling hills out in the middle of a forest
In the summer the whole place was so ripe with life.
You look up only to see treetops
So close that they seem like a roof.
And you can hear...the rush of the springs ahead
And the sound of birds that I can almost hear even now.
and I'm running in my tennis show covered feet
To get there all that sooner...to get to the water
I look back to check on my brother who is then still a little boy.
He's coming, but not as fast.
I fear that I will go tumbling down this hill so steep,
but I know that the trees will catch me
like mother's arms and I've shown him to do the same.
I'm happy, I'm free and I'm out for a day.
My hair bouncing around my head...
there's no place I'd rather be.
When I reach the water, since I'm there first I sit and watch it,
I marvel at the way it rushes over the rocks
with a sound almost like bubbling. And I take off my
shoes as does my brother when he catches up and
I walk through this water to sit on the big rock ahead.
A rock that seems as if it has spent an eternity there...
there to sit and rest in the not so silent forest
There with my little brother by my side.
Who isn't horrible for once. And there we sit on the
warmth
of the rock for awhile until I feel compelled to move and
explore on for the day. Along the way we pick up wildberries,
and nice looking rocks and know before long
we'll have to turn back and go home.
Before dusk falls and our mother has to start
looking for us.
So we wander back through acres and acres of land...
coming back in the way in which we came and climb trees and pick
apples where our mother can see us after we go
and say hello.

 

©2001 Cloudwalkers

Back to Main Page

Back to Menu  Back to Main Poetry Page

 

 


You, Me and my slinky black dress.

I enter our house
Wearing the slinkiest
Of dresses
Black
Nearly draping the floor
Behind me
With it's spaghetti straps
And being cut oh so far down in
Down in the back
I feel sweet
This I bought
Just for you
You stand up
When I come in
Jaw dropped to the floor
Your eyes say it all
And you're wearing a suit
That frames your body
So long - so strong
As if the designer
Had you in mind

And when you see me
Standing inches away
You whisper something
About wanting to
Stay at home
And I grin
With the slyest of smiles

 

 

 

 

 

 

©2001 Cloudwalkers

 

Back to Main Page

Back to Menu  Back to Main Poetry Page

 

1