CONQUEROR

She walks along within his heart,
surrender to her name and she declares her victory.
She, a young beauty a distance apart.
wielding the weapons of love. Her artillery:
raven hair, hazel eyes, her smile spells your captivity.

A tug of war in the tug of hearts,
no strings attached, you were matched
by your play of words. Soaring like birds
released, a reprieve of freedom granted,
she walks along within his heart.

She carries him with her as well,
his tender words become her shield,
protected by his expressive heart,
no surrender does she yield. His soul beckons.
Surrender to her name and she declares her victory.

His journey begins and ends
wherever she reside and he hides
in the rushes until she flushes him out.
Without a doubt, he is her target,
she, the young beauty a distance apart.

Hand-to-hand they take their stand,
vying eye-to-eye. Determined and delighted,
he fights for her honor, a prize secured
and her response is swift and accurate.
She wields the weapons of love. Her artillery

is not pervasive, she replaces
animus with amour. It is sure you will be
the prisoner of her heart right from the start.
Her beauty is your proclivity:
raven hair, hazel eyes, her smile / your captivity.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

Written for POETIC BLOOMINGS – INFORM POETS: QUINTAIN CASCADE

offered at dVerse Poets Pub – OLN#177

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22 thoughts on “CONQUEROR

  1. I love how they’re both strengthened by carrying one another in their hearts and the phrase, “a tug of war in the tug of hearts.” I guess he didn’t have a fighting chance with her “raven hair, hazel eyes, and her smile.” Lovely, Walt.

  2. Walter, she’s so lucky to have you on her side – fighting for her honor. This is so beautiful and sounds so mutual. You wrote a poem about one of the rarities in the world of love and expressed it so eloquently. Truly a work of art.

    1. Thanks Maria. The form is called a Quintain Cascade. Each line of the first stanza becomes the last line of each successive stanza, thus the repetition. We fall in love, we work for love and we “battle” for love. So the surrender is a willing jesture.

  3. She walks along within his heart, and carries him within her as well. Ah the give and take of love……her arsenal his downfall — or perhaps upfall? 🙂 The tug of love — the tug of the heartstrings. So, perhaps the conqueror is love rather than her or him? 🙂

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