04-25-2014, 02:23 AM
.
(partial edit from Tom's suggestions)
Until we met I did not know anything was missing.
Although I looked, I did not see.
It was really quite foolish of me – still,
I felt complete, needing nothing else… yet,
in an unguarded instant your image seared my mind
–branding me– on that day when we first met.
On that day, you offered me a shy and unsure smile,
making me ache to ask you to stay,
please – stay awhile, and let me put your mind at ease.
Now, when I look into my mind
you are there looking back at me:
a questioning look upon your face,
and the frightening thing is when I see you there
you do not seem at all out of place.
I haven't done well with love,
we seem to share an enmity –
one for the other, love and me.
The only woman I ever opened my heart for – died!
Maybe she took that part with her when she went,
I have been content with my monastic-like life.
I have been a hermit, surrounded by the multitude of sound
yet the noisiness of it never reached my ears.
I was content…at least at peace or so I thought!
I owed no one anything my will could not be sold or bought.
Yes, I am sure I was content, even though
I was not where I thought someone like me,
should be at this point, in his life;
starting over once again,
no longer a young or vigorous man.
Life and disappointment had beaten me down.
Yes I admit it now, I had given up completely—
ceding to life the victory without a thought—
before a battle could be fought.
Starting over at an age where gray now streaked my hair,
at an age when those things that had once been
so important to me back then, I now let go of easily.
I no longer had the strength in me, too care, to care.
What had once lived in me no longer lived there.
It seems unfair yet it is just life is not merciful;
we need not fuss for life is ever the relentless creditor!
Still, or so I thought I was content with my lot
being within the safe bastion of academia once more.
So now what is this, I know you are not for me.
Why then do you caress my arm when we meet,
and seemingly search out my eyes so desperately,
birthing love that should not be—begotten—
stirring up passion’s haunted echoes
from a life long dead and best forgotten!
–Erthona
©2014
(partial edit from Tom's suggestions)
Until we met I did not know anything was missing.
Although I looked, I did not see.
It was really quite foolish of me – still,
I felt complete, needing nothing else… yet,
in an unguarded instant your image seared my mind
–branding me– on that day when we first met.
On that day, you offered me a shy and unsure smile,
making me ache to ask you to stay,
please – stay awhile, and let me put your mind at ease.
Now, when I look into my mind
you are there looking back at me:
a questioning look upon your face,
and the frightening thing is when I see you there
you do not seem at all out of place.
I haven't done well with love,
we seem to share an enmity –
one for the other, love and me.
The only woman I ever opened my heart for – died!
Maybe she took that part with her when she went,
I have been content with my monastic-like life.
I have been a hermit, surrounded by the multitude of sound
yet the noisiness of it never reached my ears.
I was content…at least at peace or so I thought!
I owed no one anything my will could not be sold or bought.
Yes, I am sure I was content, even though
I was not where I thought someone like me,
should be at this point, in his life;
starting over once again,
no longer a young or vigorous man.
Life and disappointment had beaten me down.
Yes I admit it now, I had given up completely—
ceding to life the victory without a thought—
before a battle could be fought.
Starting over at an age where gray now streaked my hair,
at an age when those things that had once been
so important to me back then, I now let go of easily.
I no longer had the strength in me, too care, to care.
What had once lived in me no longer lived there.
It seems unfair yet it is just life is not merciful;
we need not fuss for life is ever the relentless creditor!
Still, or so I thought I was content with my lot
being within the safe bastion of academia once more.
So now what is this, I know you are not for me.
Why then do you caress my arm when we meet,
and seemingly search out my eyes so desperately,
birthing love that should not be—begotten—
stirring up passion’s haunted echoes
from a life long dead and best forgotten!
–Erthona
©2014
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.