Once mine, were mountains. Ah, I climbed so high
And on the summit stood; but stood alone:
All bright and mighty for a world of eyes.
My eyes saw only what I could not own
A sudden glance! a soft and tender word!
You shook and sunk me, and I crawled ashore
Shivering. Vowing, loud to all that heard
I'd spurn the mountains for a few words more.
A touch, in mine, of cool and calloused hand —
A fellow climber. So my eyes ascend
By pack and pole, by scrapes of scree and sand
To meet — to match — the gaze that you intend
Our love is locked. From here, to far away,
No force can part us, save the TSA
Tag: valentine’s day
Roses as red as a heartbeat,
Tulips, as deep as wine
Forget-me-nots, those eyes that smiled!
But none of these are thine.
Golden, the glint of the morning,
Diamonds, our lives at last,
A moon, pearl-fished from the ocean,
For none of these I ask.
Bees about ’round the pumpkin,
Tomatoes climbing the corn,
You and I, in the garden
And parsley, left on the lawn.
I know a place where waterfalls will dance:
Will from the cliff-side step, to take your hand,
With tinkling footstep, glide across the sand,
And share with you the blush of first romance.
But when the moon has set, they’ll dance no more,
With bow or curtsey clear, say night is done,
Return, against the cliff again to run,
And leave you standing lonely on the shore.
Some later night, you might well ask again.
Beseech the water with an offered arm,
But now the lake is lifeless in its calm.
Whatever loved you once does not remain.
No single nymph can more than once appear:
The flowing water differs every year.
or: “Those who can’t, teach”
Shall I compare thee to a sonneteer? Thou hast no love profess'd in patterned verse; But feelings just as sure, and just as dear, Well in thy breast, as poets' best and worst. Thy love's steeped not in winds and sunny days. It has no taste for slow iambic feet. A newer, bolder rhythm is your craze, With fresh-cut verve and courage in its beat. And that, I cannot sing. Beyond my wit, Though all the Muses lent to me their aid, Do loves and lyrics stay. Alone, I sit Most boldly writing when I'm most afraid. I have no truths for when love's foul or fair, But this: some sonnets aren't "Shall I compare...".
Last week I realised two things: I was due for another sonnet around Valentine’s Day, and the sonnet is traditionally a form of love poetry. Hence this piece of writing.
A heart that beats has not yet turned aside. A tongue that still can speak might not refuse. Live through the moment and enjoy the ride; Let what has been make up for what you lose. Don't clutch the friends you have, the life you live. Seek greener grass! Aim for a brighter star! In each new love, have all your heart to give, And swear to keep the faith when you're afar. Live so you'll know they never will forget What you once were, or who you've now become. Ask for "not much", but treasure what you get, And brighter shine to know your time will come. [Ignore the whole of what is said above, For evil things can nothing know of love.]