Venus

When a song is more than sung.

Gillian was suddenly surrounded,
facing the wall of gracious heat.
such fervent attentiveness,
such an act could easily inspire conceit.

Sparks alit almost all at once,
from men and their lighters
A keen female eye noted no matter their start
that now none of them were fighters.

How could they fight the unexpected,
those unfamiliar with her style.
A quality of cause and effect,
that always made her smile.

The cause was suggesting she sing,
an open invitation to vocalize anything.
The effect was consciously unexpected
The true effect she had quite unsuspected.

The men realized too late
their victory was pyrrhic,
as Gillian more narrated than sung,
each and every lyric.

“The Goddess on the mountain top.
Was burning like a silver flame
The summit of beauty and love
And Venus was her name

She’s got it,
they never forgot it.
I’m your Venus,
I’m your fire.
Your desire.”

Her intonation rich,
measured, enchantingly slow.
Her passionate poetic prose,
setting their heart’s tempo.

“Her weapons were crystal green eyes
and a siren-like silver tongue.
Leaving every man with buzzing in their heads,
their hearts and minds stung.”

What she said, how she said it,
delivered, received, rated so splendid
not one set of ears seem to mind
a classic song amended.

“She’s got it,
they never forgot it.
I’m your Venus,
I’m your fire.
Your desire.”

She made it a particular point
to punctuate the refrain
becoming more whispered, more crooned,
until no other sound they could sustain.

Reading her audience
each like an open book
she continued to dig in deeper,
securing her fantastic hook.

“That buzzing only grows in strength
soothing every single nerve.
setting all aside except the queen in front of you,
and that growing need to serve.”

Her smile suggested nothing amiss,
that the lyrics were purely in jest.
But keen eyes noted all the faces,
expressing competing thoughts put to rest

“You love this voice droning on,
potent and honeycomb sweet.
From a ruler that swarms all your instincts,
She makes you complete.”

Her original version of Venus,
depicted a much stronger Goddess
with followers unable to look away
seeing nothing beyond her suited bodice.

“I’m your Venus,
I’m your fire.
Your desire.”

“I’m your Venus,
I’m your fire.
Your desire.”

The refrain seemed to echo
Repeated words they couldn’t let go.
Natural to them became any words she was crooning,
a love spell of reverence leaving them all swooning.

“I’m your Venus,
I’m your fire.
Your desire.”

With a final stressed phrasing,
she ended the amorous lullaby.
Her audience left with a feeling,
only the sly speaker could supply.

A dozen eyes followed a woman
seemingly without flaws.
Dumb smiles and vacant gazes,
her intended, satisfying applause.

A satisfied Gillian needed a smoke
before addressing her helpless crowd,
caught off-guard by their speed,
“Well,” silent longing was never screamed so loud.

She couldn’t help but tease men,
leaving them wanting and to perspire.
Masterful at juggling several captives at once.
“I just can’t decide who lights my fire.”

Mere teasing and indecision?
Gillian wondered if she was going soft.
Punishment used to be more…creative,
for bothering a stage hypnotist on her night off.

But the night was young,
and at a closer look, so were they.
A gaggle of hunks ready to serve,
more than willing to be put on display.

“You all look so sleepy,
but of this I know you’ll never tire.
‘I’m your Venus.
I’m your fire.
Your desire.'”

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