I've been sampling a lot of poetry lately. Writing poetry is almost the polar opposite of writing novels. Such a different focus and perspective. I started writing poetry, like many writers, at a very young age, when my discovery of the written word was new and fantastical. But the magic has hardly waned. "I feel that words are a wonderful, wondrous exploration of the senses. They slip from the tongue pregnant with taste and texture.  They can be warm and smooth or brutal and abrasive.  They can hurt and they can heal. They ask only to be read, pondered, whispered, screamed. They are a weapon forged in the fires of the imagination. They are raw power." So, in light of my recent musings, I thought I'd share a poem that won an editor's choice award. For what, I cannot say. I don't remember. It was published in an obscure magazine I can't recall, but it's one of my favorites and one of the few that I'd actually share in public. LOL. Enjoy....

The Queen

With each step she leaves diamonds in her wake Dripping from her toes, a queen The jungle bows as she passes Molten silver flows down her thighs And streams over the gold bands At her ankles, jasmine at night, musk Her scent left behind, in the thick air, On precarious leaves, a trail mystique to follow And when she is captured, you will see Her legs, tattooed with ivory ink of Secrets centuries old And from her tongue, precious gems fall, And from her eyes, time is held still And you tremble, wanting She tastes of honey and you offer your heart Paper To fold and place beneath her feet Darynda Jones