The moody lake, a pastel sapphire glass
Infectious ripples scurry across the canvas
Her white-blond hair an ethereal waterfall
Floating in a mystic whirlpool as she lay
Dirty bare feet buried among green copses
Lips suckling a frost-kissed October cranberry
Delicately enchanting, menacing fairy.
Bony fingers stroke my ears in a figure of eight
Piercing green eyes trap me in this nebulous state
Opening wide the doors of my atavistic lust
I’ve lost my breath, as I try to exhale:
Longing to taste the ichor in her veins.
This has been a response to Wordle #80 by Mind Love Misery’s Menagerie.
The rules were as follows:
Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem
The words can appear in an alternate form
Use the words in any order that you like.
5. Atavistic (atavism; )
8. Copse (
9. Nebulous (hazy, vague, indistinct)
12. Ichor (the fluid which flows like blood in the veins of the gods)