witchyitalianexecutivechef's blog: "Poetry"

THIS THREE PART SERIES WAS WRITTEN BACK IN 98 WHEN MY WIFE AND DAUGHTER PASSED AWAY. She's short and beautiful With long brown hair and eyes. Her hair flows down Like unseen waterfalls in mystical lands. Here eyes are the very portals That would ensue any man. Oh how I yearn to Run my fingers through such locks of loveliness. Oh how I yearn to Stare into such portals of unforsaken beauty. Her body is of any mans desire. The very hourglass figure of time. Her bosoms are perfectly rounded And firm as ripened cantelpoupes Fresh off the vines. Her rear is as rounded and soft As a fresh brick-oven baked bread Set to cool on the windowsill. Oh how I yearn to Wrap my arams around her thin Waist and pull her tight just to Feel the beat of her bosom from a caring heart. She smells of incense and pomegranites. Milk and honey drip from her soft lips. Oh how I yearn to Experience the odours of countryside Italia. Oh how I yearn to Taste the sweet flavours of nature. I would climb to the peaks of Mt. Olympus To ask the Goddess of love, Aphrodite herself, If it were she in human form. For surely she is a Goddess. Oh how I yearn to Be seen by all the people of the land And to hear them say: "Where didst those two meet? They are Perfect together. As the sunset upon mountains." Oh how I yearn to..

You hunt for the sport and trophies. My people hunt for food and clothing. You fish only to mount on a wall What you have caught. My people fish to feed our bellies And to strengthen our children. You use dogs to do your tracking My people use my gifts of sight and hearing. You cut trees to make timber and paper. My people use the trees to keep warm And for survival during times of need. You destroy the air with gases. My people relish the air, for it is very sacred. You came and took the lands from my people. You came and destroyed thousands of my people. My people offered the Sacred Pipe, And yet clouded minds would not accept. My people are hurt and scared. I am hurt and angry. Who am I? I am Wankantan. The Great Spirit. And this is my plea to you. We are all brothers and sisters. Can the red man and the white man Ever live in harmony? Who am I? I am Wankantan, the Great Spirit. And this is my plea to you... Okiniwa Ishkanae Wachicha Tatunka Okinamahae!!!

They say you can't tame a wild rose. I say you can. A rose is nothing but beauty that is protected. Like the beautiful entity with the amazing blue eyes. She says you can't tame a wild rose. Well that wild rose can be tamed. A wild rose may have thorns, but they can be Clipped in order to smell it's beaustiful Fragrance. She says you can't tame a wild rose. I say you can. A rose is nothing but beauty that is protected. A wild rose is only wild in nature, But if you pluck it and put it in a loving home, It is no longer wild only beautiful. She says you can't tame a wild rose. I say you can! One day that wild rose with the amazing blue Eyes will be plucked from her wild state and be Tamed so everyone can see her true beauty! You can't tame a wild rose!