Leaves of Centurai




Title art by Janine Machiedo. Click image to visit her studio.



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the veins of the leaves
spoke her name to the breeze
twas a game that they played
twas a gift they bequeathed
every teardrop esteemed
by the clay underneath
as terrain became cleaved
akin to falchion blade from its sheath


her myrtle-wreath
of ancient greece famed
that glistened atop ever lustrous mane
perfected the frame of illustrious smile
that stretched on for mile upon mile upon mile
steeping the flight of the light she beguiled
sweeping delight through the aisle in her shade
leading threshed night to each fresh morning break
while the veins of the leaves
spoke her name


shall i compare she to a summer’s day
kiss the very buds of may
darling in her wake
blaze trail through rape seed
to hail with innate need to see her prevail
every brave deed predated
by faith undulated
rising and falling
yet nary sedated
gazing through pupils expressly dilated
while the veins of the leaves
did the very same
speaking of a lady in waiting no more
for she was most explicitly adored


baited the breath of the veins of the leaves
as they whispered her name to the wayfaring breeze
declaring the famed decoration bequeathed
by the air the delighting fays breathed
venerating she of dignity and grace unseen
less such be bled through redwood dreams
indeed the bravest angels dared not tread the in-between
yet it is here she dressed most blessèd scene
it is here
true destiny was seen
to be believed
it is here
we wed sweet blessing through the veins of the leaves






Richard Charles Stevens


Keeper of The Crimson Quill




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