I can’t really call this a request because it was something I offered as part of a payment for a commission by the very talented Mina (see her dA here). It was, however, a piece written based on her choice of topic. In this case, a poem about one of her characters.
Blackest of hair
The faintest sheen
On skin so fair
Burgundy smile hides a secret, no doubt
We might catch a glimpse in the pools neath her brows
If delicate arches don’t steal our eyes
And hold us entranced while the chance passes by
See the lady’s posture there,
As she takes her leave?
Tell me a mystery so fair
Does not call to thee.
Snow-colored skin, tinged with pink, makes each movement gentle,
So rest assured, if harm falls to you, it is not accidental.
Composure so fine is never a lie, not even by trickster’s hand,
For what is a face, postured in grace, if not a mask most grand?
Emerald gaze upon the world
Lips parted to speak a word
Long and loose her locks are curled
And voice of temptress will be heard
Keep your wits about you as you search within her gaze
For a body so inviting will create the perfect haze
To steal from you your balance and leave you off your feet
That you might know her dagger’s blade, intimate and sweet
The steel is cold
She does assure;
It’s never dulled
Or struck unsure
Yet can you turn your eyes away from beauty you have known?
And let fade to memory all that your time has shown
Of agile limbs and curving form and face so captivating?
Or does it ever stay with you? Those memories, always waiting?
Then her eyes narrow
And jaw sets hard
That look could harrow
A training yard
As she begins a dance so delicate, to capture our attention
Her movements are pure elegance and not a trace of tension
Yet lure and feint the woman does, then lure and feint again
So onlookers can merely guess where true dance might begin
She knows we watch, she knows we wait
And oh she knows we wonder
What it might be she’ll use as bait
To catch us when we blunder
Then she designs a tempting web, a lacery of enticement,
To draw us in and learn our ways, to measure our excitement.
Have we guessed the rogue’s true play, or are we yet her victims
And should her performance ever stray, will we divine her system?
The way her brows angle just so
The glimmer in her eyes
And how her hair sways to and fro
And what her face belies?
Posture and pose the lady knows, skills used in her craft
So both her spells and weapon’s knells have the strength to last
All that she is, and she may be, may never be revealed
For what you see, or think you see, is but her tool to wield
There her blade carved in a bone,
Her eyes and lips relaxed.
Her body loose while she’s alone,
Her muscles are not taxed.
And even then, with moon above smiling through the window pane
And glint of orange in her hair as candlelight begins to wane
How much is real? How much is show? Within the lady’s look?
We, I fear, will never know, for her life is no book.
Lend yourself to scrutiny
With women such as she
And if you seek her mystery
Do mind eternity
For time has a way of slipping by while dreamers dream their dreams
And such a day will pass this way, lost in a smile’s gleams
As fingers run o’er flowing silk, and skin of satin too
Bindings undone by those of ilk to which her word is true.
Lose yourself in mystery,
High collars, violet hues
Feel not the touch of history
As our lady takes her dues.