I had a bath Slave. Sweet, good-tempered Fi,
With skin as Butter in the English heat.
Her touch as feathered down; ‘tis odd my heart
Did swell than times I would my husband meet.
The still warm waters of the gild goddess
Did often cleanse me of mine wrongful blush.
Dawn’s young light would find me as I wept,
And begged and prayed these songs of love might hush.
I scratched her name on lead. Up came the breath
To meet my plea and down it went, my sin.
Her blood would spill as water does,
Clear as diamond, lifeless, dull as tin.
‘Tis better for to hear Minerva speak
Than after fruitless love to desperate seek.
Some place, joined with the stores of sun and snow,
Who tread the fragrant earth scarce long ago,
There comes a man. Ne’er was such tragic plot as this,
An autocratic theft to reminisce.
‘Tis fine! ‘Tis sweet to dwell on bygone days.
Yet one is wont to ponder; now, who pays?
Who Time becomes, whose own Self must be flung
Down cellar steps like rotten fish. I’m stung.
All bitterness — in bitter weeks enough.
Return to him whose tired soul ‘scaped the rough —
(I wonder how his hands did feel to hold.)
If I can mourn, how sharp your pain, how cold,
In those shared hearts. His days remain thereof,
‘Twere void of much, but ne’er did want for love.
good morning everyone. here I must first apologise for the lack of posts recently, after the Little Mermaid poem I found myself very busy with university work and my job. I am glad to have been able to publish a few pieces with Free Verse Revolution which I have reblogged for you all to read.
I am at a bit of a crux writing wise. I am finding myself uncomfortable with a lot of online poetry communities and pages. I will explain this at a later date but as of now, I am working to try and articulate what my problems are, and how I might fix them for myself in the future.
Currently, I am working on a project for NaNoWriMo. I am writing a children’s book, which is a first for me. It’s a challenge, but it’s a great challenge, and I’m enjoying trying something new. I have a few other pieces in the works – specifically my other short novella and a short story. I am trying to figure out what to do with them. It is scary to put something out there when you have little publishing experience except for online blogs.
I will have an Advent poem coming up throughout December which I hope some of you will tune in to follow, sort of like a poetic Advent calendar. I hope to give you some other short pieces until then, but you should know I am concentrating most of my writing power into my children’s novel.
That’s it from me as it stands. See you in Advent.
Once I met a fork in that craggy road,
And it did two bold options so present –
Two ways in which to go, with choice proceed
Across the scanty plains of life and breath.
One was easy. Simple love for concrete minds
As was solid writ, to nakedness combine
And so become a woman in the truest sense.
Like that! I’d live by Eden’s face and hence
Would bat all questions to our bodied stance.
‘Tis not my love that thou should place in doubt
But that red gate aflame pressed to keep out
Those hearts that at this dreaded fork do
Knee-ward crash. Between the road of self-denial
Or bleak solo endurance in some far exile.
You are icon
In a place of forbidden icons,
In the place of The Light.
Pale pink in the pulpit,
‘Gainst its oaken stay.
The hallowed white neck
Solemn gifted to men of old
Does thy brave one
So proud behold.
Into this cave of men
A voice comes bright,
A voice into this old place
Of The Light.
Could we be a place beyond the walls?
Do we have it –
Are we well equipped
Like we say we are
With our metal gifts?
I think we once forgot
Of these suits –
Metal molten moves, as should we.