A playwright introduced me to a wonderful collection of poems from several cultures. The compositions were mostly from the middle ages (6th-13h centuries) and they celebrated love in its most passionate,decadent and at times unbearably painful forms. The romances took me to soaring heights, literally, as I flew across the country in the middle of the night to visit dear friends in Chicago who coincidentally had gotten married recently. Fatigue took over but fingers protested as I had to give form to my own thoughts on the subject. Here's an ode to love...
Lady Love
A temptress, you tease with sly smile
Scores approach, their arms you cradle
Brazen whore!How easy you slip in blinks!
No mercy for my naive heart
That soars and sighs in sweet suspense
From afar you exude yet ne'er you approach
And still lame fool only wonders
Such pain persists in mere solitude
How infinitely worse must be
The tragedy of separation...
The next morn...
The first rays fell on supple skin
Warming my form bursting with life
Why now does fresh air smell sweeter
Wherefrom this intoxication
Inching into my every spore,I inhale in hunger
His hold tightens and I exhale
Encaged in arms engaged
A dove,in his sky I soar
Morning bliss
For here you are
Eight winters left me benumbed
The warmth, that glow my skin once shone
Now mere trace of flame
Fighting for life
Come finally,the spring of destiny
Tis been far too long,my love
Your face I've seen only in dreams
I doubt no less you're anything but
The sum of all my aspirations
The heart awaits, its rhythm paused
Mirage
Should anything dare to stand brave
Face you in a test of sheer beauty
Can only be this moment I dream
When we unite after many winters
At last! That dawn now arrives
Resplendent, the joy of a thousand mornings
But what be this?Your beauty dims!
Words smite and gestures ignore
Eight million winters I could have endured
Alas! This be the dusk of a thousand mournings
1 comment:
beautiful!
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