Category: Mystery



What you see is what you get
The waters are not that deep
They are transparent and calm
And could lull you to sleep
What is visible on the surface
Is reflected directly below
Nothing is hidden from view
Nor veiled to deceive or shadow
Still waters and calm seas
So you may navigate easily
No blind spots to fool you
Or dangers lurking deceitfully
She has charted your course
You may set sail from the docks
Come to me, sings the siren
Guiding you to the rocks
Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©

In response to Sue Vincent's Thursday Photo Prompt - Beneath

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Last night I had a dream
You were lying next to me
In a dark room
Somewhere near the sea
I could hear crickets
In the balmy stillness
Moonbeams streaking
Light through the darkness
A sensation of calmness
As I let you stroke my cheek
Your arms went around me
and I began to feel weak
You grasped my hands
pulling them behind me
Expertly binding them
and I pretended to get free
Your actions were exciting
Almost kinky in a way
Your body pushing against me
as I submissively lay
I didn’t know who you were
I perhaps did not care
Was this even a dream
Or a fantasy nightmare
Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©

Word Prompts:




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The Ringmaster

The Ringmaster


The exhilaration I feel

When before the master I kneel

His presence surrounding me

On this night that is moonlit

I am now ready to commit

To him completely


The connection is radioactive

and attraction seductive

I am consumed with a sensation

A feeling within

Urging me to commit the sin

Singing in elation


My urges are primitive

All things being relative

Am I on a road to disaster?

Oh, quell my desires

You are evil in disguise

The ultimate ringmaster


Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©

Word Prompts:





Photo by Miranda Wipperfurth on Unsplash

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The gold of your hair
Is fluid in my hand
Silken and soft
In millions of strands

The water covering our feet
Cool against the skin
Sensuous and evocative
But it covers many a sin

We tread precariously
On the slippery stones
Treacherous currents
Have taken many bones

Sad souls haunt the beauty
Of this tranquil space
Warning us of hidden danger
In a picturesque place

The undercurrent pulls
Me down into the drink
To the bottomless pit
I am destined to sink

The last thing I see
Is your flaxen hair
Blowing in the breeze
As I gasp for air


Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©


Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt – Hidden




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