As shy as lilies disappear
with evening light, she will demur
as shores advance, her skiff to steer
towards isle of discretion; hear
the oarlocks lift the paddles, strain
against the tension and the pier,
the foliage of waterplants
that fain would keep her near.
A contest entry
- Word Prompt by Lj-.
700 points, ended December 3, 2008, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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I like this magical folklore style you do.
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Great opening line on this one, definitely catches me and draws me in. I'm then kept reading 'cause of the wordchoice, "demure, skiff, oarlocks..." Very fun.
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Very good, reminds me of Tennyson for some reason.
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