The Forbidden Fork

5 Comments

Tags:
  • Temptation
    • ,
  • Confusion
    • ,
  • Fantasy

    The Forbidden Fork
    Following the homeward trail by heart
    Carefully eluding every puddle
    My footsteps start to quicken
    Knowing soon the path would part

    Forewarned to never venture near
    The fork leading to his lair
    Oh, the lure of the forbidden
    Curiosity whittles away the fear

    Only once I'd met his piercing eyes
    Had felt a shiver down my spine
    The alluring gaze bestowed on me
    Said evil rumors were not lies

    Once through the wooded hollow
    Temptation awaited me at the fork
    Like a spider leading me to its web
    Blatantly daring me to follow

    My heart's familiar racing
    Each beat echoing in my ears
    Arms tightening around my body
    Fantasizing him I was embracing

    Such strange partners...thirst and fear
    The confusion overwhelming
    Drawn fiercely to his presence
    Intensely dreading he woud appear

    Torturously by his fork I passed
    Fantasies rampant in my mind
    Outwardly cursing this aching desire
    While Inwardly begging it to last

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    Kanicki commented on The Forbidden Fork

    11-16-2010

    Julia - Ah when curiosity meets fantasy; fear can turn into a tempting desirous fantasy too. well crafted. peace and light
    Reply to Comment

    julieannetx

    11/16/2010

    Absolutely the element of fear can be very seductive! Thanks for reading.

    kdarcy commented on The Forbidden Fork

    11-13-2010

    I liked that, it was different, a nice way to be challenged but not ... don't we all pick our temptation? Pay my writing a visit, if a moment finds you free, I'll return be well k
    Reply to Comment

    julieannetx

    11/13/2010

    Thanks, and I will.

    Artie commented on The Forbidden Fork

    11-06-2010

    Interesting piece!!! You have captured the nature of curiousity perfectly. 10 from me
    Reply to Comment

    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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