poem

Fairer the Tree

This one was inspired by a song I heard a long time ago, by Echo’s Children. It was inspired by books in David Weber’s Honor Harrington series, and though I enjoyed the song, what struck me most was the final line. I always thought it’d make one hell of a love poem, so here is my attempt at it.

Young love blossoms quickly but fades away fast.
With petals down falling, so short do they last.
But flowers, when picked, handled gently indeed,
As they drop petals might also drop seed.

And from that small seedling our lust can take root,
When tended and cared for in passion’s pursuit.
And there, in the springtime of lover’s delight,
True love can spring forth in flowers, so bright.

And as the years pass what as seed once began
Will spread in its reaching, forever to span.
To grow up much stronger, a sapling no more;
Instead, there’s a tree where but flowered before.

And the tree, it will blossom and always renew
The passion and love that I first felt for you.
And I hope that when others look on us, they’ll see
That fair was the flower, but fairer the tree.

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Punctuational Perversity Pervades

I just,
can’t seem,
to keep,
from adding commas to,
my work;
Pausing,
every other word,
like freakin’,
Captain,
Kirk.
Punctuational perversity,
pervades,
within my mind;
I have,
to see,
a comma
at the end of,
every line.
If not,
a pause,
Then a full,
stop, a,
period-ication,
A semi-colon,
dot dot dot,
perhaps a hy-
phenation.
And so,
dear reader,
please,
forgive,
when such,
said things,
invade;
it’s just,
that,
punctuational,
perversity,
pervades.

Where Runs the Warhorse

Where runs the warhorse when his time has come?
When his barding’s gone and his reins retired,
When sounds the beating of a different drum
Than the ones of war, that had once inspired
His gallant service to a noble knight,
With whom he galloped to honor, glory,
In deeds of skill, chivalry and might,
Inspiring many a young man’s story
Of bravery, mastery, battles fought,
And many a lass’s dreams and song
Of ancient days when true knights sought
To prove their mettle with courage strong?
To Elysian fields, where the sweet grass grows,
To await his knight, when the Trumpet blows.

This weekend, the valiant steed of a dear friend, the knight to whom I am squired, passed on to the Elysian fields. I am not a horseman, myself, being massively allergic to those noble beasts, but I know too well how strong the bond between man and his animal friends can be. Fare thee well, Luke, and be ready for your next ride.

The Wicked Mother

Feeling poetic today. Enjoy!

Oh sweetest maiden…or is it mother cruel?
At times you seem as both, and others, neither.
For smothering, your embrace would kill the fool,
As suckling, you give nurse to water’s breather.
Yet knowing, we fools still prod within your womb,
Probing for treasures, so deep within your salt.
Oh wicked lady, your bed becomes our tomb;
We lust for your bounties, then die within your vault.
With waves do you beckon and sweetly caress,
With your promise of pearls in a lusty embrace;
With such calls to our souls, we must soon acquiesce
Till we’re one with the dark in your deep, briny place.
Would I could ignore you, oh murderous mother,
But the song that you sing is lodged deep in my brain
As it was with my father, my uncles, my brothers,
Written fast in the blood that flows through every vein.
So I come to you, lover, my killer, my queen,
Though I’m damned to the depths as my fathers before;
For my soul is too willing, my body unclean,
And I’ll never find peace while I stand on your shore.

Free – An older villanelle

Since a lot of my poetry these days is written to my other blog, I thought it’d be nice to share here some of my less erotically themed pieces. I don’t write them as often, as I am one who finds his poetic skills work best with passionate play, but some of them I am very fond of. This one, a villanelle written shortly after the finalization of my divorce, is such a piece. I was at the time a bit overwhelmed by the feeling of freedom, much, I imagine, as a prisoner might feel when first released after a long, difficult sentence.

I give you “Free.”

How strange, the way that freedom seems to feel,
No longer shackled to miseries past
When once I suffered ‘neath another’s heel.

For when no more my will is made to kneel
On hurtful deeds that grind like shattered glass,
How strange, the way that freedom seems to feel!

Now freed, I find I can at last reveal
The inner scars I thought would ever last
When once I suffered ‘neath another’s heel.

No more these mortal wounds must I conceal
That e’en my will to live, nearly surpassed;
How strange, the way that freedom seems to feel.

But aired and breathing, now I find they heal,
No longer poked, where formerly harassed
When once I suffered ‘neath another’s heel.

Divorce, I fought so hard against, in zeal;
But now I see my efforts were miscast.
How strange, the way that freedom seems to feel,
When once I suffered ‘neath another’s heel.

 

 

 

It’s All That You Are

Woke up to find it was a dim and dewy morning
Slipped out of bed still in a haze from nightly dreaming
Broken by reality with very little warning
But one bright image still before my eyes was streaming

It was you, all that you are,
All the little things about you
That bring a smile to my heart.
It’s how you look, it’s how you think,
It’s the endless combinations
Of you that brings the light into my day

And in the hazy gray of overcast ambition
That others find so grim it tears their souls apart
I found that happiness became my disposition
Dark as it was, there was a light within my heart

It was you, all that you are,
All the little things about you
That bring a smile to my heart.
It’s how you look, it’s how you think,
It’s the endless combinations
Of you that brings the light into my day

I found the smile there, in waking thoughts remembered
Of passing dreams of you and love that we have shared
And be it sunny June or overcast December
No matter what the mood, my heart will be prepared

Because of you, all that you are,
All the little things about you
That bring a smile to my heart.
It’s how you look, it’s how you think,
It’s the endless combinations
Of you that brings the light into my day

Rescue on the Sea of Love

He bids you adieu as you slip beneath
The waves of the sea that love has made,
Too frightened of what he’ll find underneath
The waters, and thus, his vision fades.
But I will catch you within my arms
As you slip below the surf and tide
And keep you protected from hurt and harms
And promise that you’ll never be denied
My heart, for e’en if we drown and die
At least I shall go with a smile on my face
As the last breath escapes on contended sigh,
For I’ll know I have gone in your sweet embrace.

Rhyme away, good poets!

This was written on the fly as a response to a blogger’s apology for rhyming a line in her poem. This sentiment has always troubled me, as I feel there is plenty of room in the poetic world for both structured and free verse, and frankly, I find the challenge of writing a rhyming piece to be thrilling and worthwhile. The doesn’t mean I think free verse is without merit – I read and love a lot of it. But, anyway, let my words rhyme and tell my tale…

Since when did it become a crime
To write a verse that dared to rhyme?
Sure, poet-snobs may toot and cough
And lift their noses when they scoff –
But let me ask these rhyming foes:
What of the Shakespeares? Byrons? Poes?
So many greats that worked in rhyme
And structured meter, beating time
With foots, with iambs, carefully wrought
As ‘gainst the wiles of language fought
To tell a tale that pleased to sing
Because they had a rhyming ring.
So if you rhyme, why take offense?
The classics are your best defense.

But one wish…

Oh, give me but one wish and I would ask
For no great wealth, or earthly gotten gain,
Nor servants that would do my every task,
Nor power over sun, or wind, or rain.
For all these things, I truly would replace
To pass the night within my love’s embrace.

For wealth could not my passion’s fire sate;
No price is there to stay my yearning heart.
No princely sum could ever compensate
For time that she and I must spend apart.
And thus, no fortune had, I wish to see;
Instead I wish with her to always be.

And servants to obey my each command
Would idle sit, a wasted wish to be.
For there is not of them I could demand
To set my soul’s desires flying free.
Nor could a harem ever dare compare
To her, my sexy darling lover fair.

The sun may try to slay me with its heat,
Its rays are dim next to our passion’s flame.
The wind and rain may in a tempest beat
Upon us, but will die away in shame.
No force of nature ever could prevail,
Or cause my need for her to ever pale.

In dreams, when I am held within her arms,
And soft caresses dance across my skin,
Away fall troubles, all the worldly harms,
Removing all my woes, my fears, my sin.
And bolts electric leap through out my form
When laying next to her, so soft and warm.

And when she pulls me close, into a kiss,
I am the beast enchanted by the song
Her siren’s tongue, it weaves melodious,
And leaves me tamed, no fear of right or wrong.
Her lips with mine, a lover’s tango dance,
As we give way to simple, sweet romance.

Then soon, we are consumed by our desire,
And frantically, we strip each other bare.
Like panicked fauna fleeing from a fire,
We rush, and at each other’s garments tear,
Till free of those constricting bonds are we
To press together, naked, warm, and free.

And what delicious warmth in her I’ve found
As, hardened from our rush, inside I slip.
My heart beats furious with every sound,
Each sigh of passion that escapes her lips
As rhythmically, we two begin to move,
Our burning lusts together there to soothe.

With perfect thrusting beat our bodies slide,
Enveloped in the passion that we share.
Orgasmic pulses build as we collide,
That wash away our every worldly care.
We feel the pressure building deep within,
With ecstatic release soon to begin.

My hands across her body freely roam,
To touch her milky flesh, each curve to feel,
Each breast a perfect pliant pleasure dome,
And each caress is dreamlike and surreal.
And then her breathing quickens, ‘neath my form,
As tightening, I feel her body storm.

Then thrashing like a ship tossed by the sea,
Orgasms overtake my lover sweet,
And soon I join her in her ecstasy,
We draw together, fully and complete.
Our voices join, and moans, they fill the air,
As I explode within my lover fair.

Exhausted then, together do we sleep,
Still locked together in a tight embrace.
And in our slumber, comforting and deep,
Within our dreams, still passion do we chase,
Till waking, when we start all o’er anew,
To once again such ecstasy pursue.

So give me not of riches, this I plea,
Nor servants that each want may then obey,
Nor power o’er the elements that be,
There’s but one thing I wish for every day:
And that’s to live the waking dream so sweet
Of being next to her, whole and complete.

An older piece, but one I want remembered…

Nine years ago this month, a dear friend of mine passed of a sudden aneurysm. She was a lady of excellent worth, and though her heart joyed at the larceny of piracy, her actions were as chivalrous as any knight could hope to be.

It has been nine years, Shannon, but you are not forgotten.

Alas, sweet Shannon, I bid you farewell,
The time we spent as friends was far too brief.
Longer, I fear, will there be spent in grief
For one within whom chivalry did swell,
Whose smile and wit did many comforts lend,
And sadly, has reached a much too early end.

Your kindness will always be a treasured gift,
A memory of giving, of your most sharing soul;
When sorrows and troubles began to take their toll,
A thought of your presence would cause one’s heart to lift,.
Your charity of being, a port within the storm;
Sanctuary offered within your smile warm.

But now, it seems, your soul has heard the call;
The Sea of Mysteries beckons you, “Come!
Adventure, treasures of unearthly sum,
For you we wait, until you claim us all!”
And lo, the pirate’s blood within you wailed,
So seaward set you your ship and sailed.

And so, sweet lady, I pray your course be true,
That the winds of Time blow swiftly, to your gain.
Leave mortal life and all its earthly pain,
Let wondrous sights and mysteries ensue,
And mad adventure be your just reward
To live by compass, sail, and pirate’s sword.

One last request, and of the selfish sort:
When you plunder on that dreaming Sea
And all good things have come to thee,
Should you take liberty in a foreign port,
And see this poet standing, near the pier’s end,
I pray you will embrace me, and call me friend.