why?

[heslopian]

I agree, that does sound like a great idea Todd. Here's the first poem that I ever wrote. (Well actually it's the second, but it's the first one that I still have):

Sweet Alice

On an evening spent within my chair,
Amidst a bawdy student house,
I lay reading my books on Baudelaire,
Quiet as a dormouse.

While in the rooms beyond I hear the fruits of passion,
Punctuated by the wind whistling through the willows,
Content with my evasion of this vulgar carnal fashion,
Lying on my flaccid bed of mattress, quilt and pillows.

Suddenly my thoughts are halted by the cries of dear, sweet Alice,
Her saintly call emerging from some unseen realm or palace,
Still crying as I’ve heard her cry a thousand times before,
Laying where my father lay her on the dark and dusty floor.

This father who I’d loved and cherished,
Has done evil and has perished,
But still the memory of his betrayal,
Leaves me bitter, cold and frail.

The night goes on and still I sit, waiting for the morning dawn,
Each breath of wind against the glass awakening my darkest thoughts,
The ceaseless crying in my mind has weakened every ounce of brawn,
And now I hear the spectre of my father‘s ghostly taunts.

His cruel, sardonic voice seeps slowly through my door,
His footsteps creep across my creaking, wooden floor,
The evil of his being roaring through my very core,
An image that will haunt me now and forevermore.

And now the beast is taunting me, to break my vow of fidelity,
Betray my dear, sweet Alice, who relieved me of virginity,
The only one who ever showed me hope or love or pity,
The one he killed and stole away the memory of her beauty.