Tag Archives: nymphs

The Poet’s Mind

In the wood’s heart

There is light

And there is dark.

The poet finds


With woodland


For girls

Of the mind

Are never bland.



Walking through the wood
In this weather hot
I think on should,
And should not.

I shall be good.
But, I have heard tell
That nymphs herein

Some say, that they
Are shy.
I shall stare at the sky
For, therein,
Is not.

Above, the hot
Whilst below
Nymphs go

Oh What Would I Give To See Where Nymphs Live

Oh what would I give
To see where nymphs live!
Strolling through forest glade
I have met
Many a staid maid.
I regret
That, on my way
Through forest green
I have never seen
Flighty Aphrodite.
But, perchance
I may
Join nymphs in their dance
One day,
And hear Pan’s pipes play.

In Woods Green

In woods green
Nymphs were sometimes seen
By mortal men.
Now when
Girls I see in short clothes,
Their toes
Bare, to the sultry air
I wonder where
All the inocence has gone.
Yet Aphrodite
Was flighty
(Was she not?,
And on hot
London nights
Phone calls will be made
And visits paid
By aphrodite, to oh so mortal men

Some Find Their Muse In Forests Green

Some find their muse in forests green
Where the nymph (so rarely seen)
Is brought to life on paper.
Many a romantic caper
Takes place on virgin page,
That pristine stage
Where maid
Is forever staid.

Other poets reach their sweating hand
Towards the lone phone,
So as to command
For a while,
A nymph’s enigmatic smile

The Sprite’s Tune

The nymph of tomorrow
Portends sorrow,
While the sprite of today
Sounds a doleful lay
On her violin
Of sin.

Round the budding rose
The satyr goes,
Listening to music sad
That will drive him mad.

the sprites continue to play.
There music divine
Does say
“Drink of my wine
And in caverns hidden
We will spend our day”.

The satyr doth long
For wine more strong
Than any taken
He tastes, and is left forsaken
And forever craving more.