LR, i loved that piece very much so when i read it. the extent of your skill of writting can be shown in your differnt styles and thats what makes them so interesting.....so varied, with all kinds of was to make you feel. when all i feel is gravity, i can read your writtings and i find emotions of a time that was and will be again that bring warmness to my heart and soul and help me march on^^ thankyou my love<3
and beacuse of your voluptuous writtings of heart, i give you mine, that when i leave your side its smashs into a thousand pieces that cant be put back together again by anyone but you. i write this as a dedication to that. te amo...
for you with love...
The Mistress of Wordplay
Shalt I gazeth unto words sublime, crafted verses and pieces of a spiritual soul.
Thou art an artist in thine own right, a mistress of language,
Manipulating words like clay and shape shifting sentences into a creation of divine light upon thee, the elements that make life what it is.
A Lady Of Lascivious sonnets, sorrowful odes to past warriors who have fallen in battle, joyful praises to thy world that thou love undyingly. Prays to thy god written beneath his heaven but heaven be where it belong, for angels shall sing these praises so beautiful and elegant in tone, as a symphony to the stars.
Perhaps I shall drink from the pool of thy passion, dive into fields of innocence and tantalizing tales of woe and wish’s upon the nights sky.
Lay it as a blanket of shinning jewels upon the bed of the queen, the mistress of wordplay.
Prithee then M’ Lady hark to a verse from me, I pray thee that you will see, your art reflects the true essence of thyself and your face I may see upon such manuscript as this.
The fine silk of the page on which you write let symbolize your amorous grace and presence…like wind swiftly passes through a crag in a mighty mountain you glide along with every step you take, moving as poetically as the words you shape so well.
The swirling letters of your hand therefore do seem fitting to picture such exquisite hair that sways as the water flows steadily along its path through the rivers of Avalon.
The scent of thee is laid unto your work, filling my senses with visions and manifestations of dreams of thee once dreamt.
Thy temple in which lies the great sonnet of yours, doth symbolize your divine body that of an angel on earth.
Sweet cinnamon luxury that the air be privileged to meet. Thou walk, speech and presence do complement the universal knowledge of natural beauty.
What is thy secret? Do thou slumber for a thousand years to maintain your fairness? A sleeping beauty slumbering silently before me, immersed in sweet silky covers as my hands tremble near thee.
I do not touch and do not wake for restlessness doth disturb a celestial light with drops of rain telling the aged story of thy secret garden.
Do you not bath in milk…or use the venom of a hundred venomous flowers of most prolific kind? What is thy secret then!
It is your Art mistress. You can seduce even in slumber before me.
Your craft and expertise, your dexterity and your savvy.
Your astuteness and capability that you pour thy persistent passion for the art of thine.
The mistress of wordplay.
~Luke~
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