Monday, November 04, 2013

Some Not-Quite-Love Poem Re-Drafts

A Woman Slew Me Yesterday

A woman slew me yesterday.
It happened in the common way:
a noonday knock upon the door,
a word or two, a settled score,
a spear of ice to pierce me through.
You know it well, for she was you.
No, not a word of hot defense,
for every killer must repent,
however justified the blow@
But sun still shines and rivers flow,
and though your insults shot me through,
perhaps today I live anew.
So let us not be trapped by pride,
and I will set the harm aside,
and let us love with zeal, not pain,
until you kill me once again.

Love by Universe

I love you more than all the earth.
It is not half enough!
Soon I'll love like solar systems.
Dismiss it all as fluff.
The after-day one galaxy
will scarce contain my awe --
but still too small, still too pale.
Wait, and have them all.

Unhand!

You catch my heart; yes, you presume
to catch my heart, and me to doom
to love of you. Shall such demand
be satisfied? My heart unhand!
Be satisfied to know my smile,
in passing tarry but a while,
like pilgrim in a foreign land.
Release me now, my heart unhand!

The Harp and the Vine

You ask, and I wonder,
but I still know my mind;
here in the garden the columbine
spirals and curls, begging for rain,
while your words like the thunder
echo from clouds;
I know your pain, but I am proud,
and here in the garden the rosy thorn
still mocks me,
filled with ruthless scorn.
You ask, but the iris will pay you no mind
as the wind starts to hum
through the harp and the vine.

In All the World Are None for Me

In all the world are none for me.
The lonely whispers from the sea
like shadows slink out on the sly
beyond the corner of my eye:
no words enmesh my wary heart,
nor force, nor faith, nor artless art,
and always-mocking almost-mights
still haunt the dark and lonely nights
like long-smashed idols made of sand
that whisper of lost promised lands,
or gnat-like nothings made of air
and pithless deserts, dry and bare.
But one small impulse deep inside,
so stubborn in its inborn pride,
will seek, will quest, and never stay,
till love is found, or judgment day.

How Strange Is That?

I felt I fell in love with you today; how strange is that?
Waiting for the bus we stopped and stayed to chat,
when suddenly and subito my head was overturned,
unbalancing my body as my blood began to burn.
I cannot even say I really caught your name!
Some devil-hearted cupid plays a mischief-ridden game;
uncanny things, ungrounded, maddening, and swift,
now throw the world off kilter, the earth begins to shift!
Meeting you but once, but for a little while,
I am haunted by your eyes, the flashing of your smile;
and though I hardly know you, nonetheless my brain
will spin imaginations as though your love were gained.
But swiftly comes its death as swiftly came its birth,
and if it pass away, what is such feeling worth?
The merest little fizzle, a frenzy in the brain,
and after sudden torrent nothing will remain
but cynic's self-suspicion, memories that fade,
and wry and quiet gravestones where madness has been laid.

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