Saturday, 22 February 2014

Poems are Fun!

The wordthief

As the crow's caw, the pine's rough-scraping bark,
These unsure hands, this stumbling tongue of mine;
So I must steal another's lamp to shine
Light on the faithful contours of this heart.

Soft word, glad glance, bright storm of angered grace;
Each turning image, turning each day anew,
Till I am laid beneath the reaching yew,
Keeps in a plain man's heart its cherished place.

Take down this book, and in the flames' last glow,
Smile at these hobbling lines and understand
You held as true a heart within your hand
As Maud, or Ronsard's Helen, long ago.

- Written on the flyleaf of an old Yeats anthology.

This is corny but honest. I'm a very lucky person, at least in love. Anyway here's my entry, I hope you enjoy it if nothing else. I would rather remain anonymous. Thanks for reading it. :)

Not much is known about the martyr St Valentine
Sacrifice doesn't feel all that romantic
Yet I know for you I'd put it all on the line
Playful arguments reveal I'm pedantic
Silly soliloquies shared with you and cheap wine

I wonder if the Saint would approve of our tryst
Reading Chaucer under a waxing moon
Cuddle for warmth and so waxes our lust
I wonder what made such a goddess fall for a loon
Holding nothing back I embrace you in complete trust
Strange emotions overwhelm and I fall to swoon

You reduce a man to a boy
I am your listless toy
For you I'd give all
And welcome the fall
The overture
Was Rapture

Saint Valentine may have been a fool
Yet I admire the spirit of this martyr
Love-addled I lose lucidity 
I've taken on St Valentine's charter
I am in your hands, I shall be your tool
Let us shape something beautiful in all this

The bliss of your kiss
Is too much to bear
What a king amongst men must I be
To share the riches of your love
I did not believe in a Heaven
Yet you must be from above

In you I've found purpose
In you I find meaning
The mysteries seem trite
When under your light

Strewn blankets and disheveled hair
Within our secret love lair
Ours has been the sweetest affair

My Hesperus, Venus
I adore you so
In your faults I find perfection
How blessed am I to be your selection
I forget my woe
Because you are mine, my sublime Valentine

*Dear Traveller*

When will I find the one that knows me?
Are they in Nepal, on the mount?
Guide me to you.

Do they watch the water spin down the chasm of Lake Victoria?
Among the reptiles, maws open,
In muddy waters I would crawl to you.
Darest any dragon defy me?

Tell me of the Tundra
There is no cold I have not known.
Without you, lover, I cannot grow.
Every ray of sunlight is a betrayal.

Dear traveler, will I ever find you?
Would I know if I saw you?
Would you know me?
Do you know me?

I am here, awaiting the skip of a heart.
The light of the eye.

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