My valentine
(p.s. this journal now allows anon. comments)
Please leave yourself intact
strands of brown
shroud your contemptless face
enhancing every inch
spanning the globe I adore
from cheek to cheek
you are the world ,
mi amore
flowers are my patriot
girls like you rue the day
flushed and rushed as I write
an equivelent
to unparalleled beauty
just to make you smile
mixing up rhyme schemes
borrowing from one of your favorites
because theres time for you and time for me
and time yet for a hundred indecisions
and a hundred visions and revisions
before the taking of a toast and tea
Cupping your face in my hands
I kiss those soft lips crimsonly
with careful abandon
mixed up are my words
your voice jumbles my mind
mixes up the L's and O's
how much I olve you
I dont even know
we twist and turn
to fate's accord
dancing improper duets
my feet ache from indecision
I just want to grasp your hand
walk away to our island
where we lay
watching doves and creatures
of much greater stature
soar above
envied at what we have
our love
still so tender
enshrouds us again
on our island of perfect
dreamless
ecstasy
just you and me
given a second chance
at feeling alive
please take my hand
lets learn to fly
or echo these metaphors
and borrow from poets of old
Dans la fenêtre complètement de la lumière
du soleil concentre
son pli d'or d'ombre sur le pli
usqu'à ce qu'il rougeoie aussi mûr
que les roses de gloire
or so im told
hiding in the cave
your listless smile
seen through running water
transparent as the evening sky
blurred and beautiful
grab my hand
and walk on through
please promise me
to leave yourself intact
the strands of brown
that shroud your contemptless face
enhance every inch
spanning the globe I adore
from cheek to cheek
you are the world,
mi amore
posted by .Michael Simon @ 6:26 AM
5 Comments:
I love you.
That is the fakest thing I have heard in my entire span of life.Your not T.S. Eliot and by no means nothing more then a mere knock off.That doesn't sound like love that sounds like the dream of love.I don't mean to be rude but that seems like a point of view of someone who has never seen love.There is no passion just anticlimactic phrases.
"Your not T.S. Eliot and by no means nothing more then a mere knock off"\
and who said I was him, hmm?
Anonymous #2,
This poem does not try to replace T.S. Eliot. When you quote something, you acknowledge influence, you call up a source. Recognising a poet who himself was sure about dreams, yet unsure about putting them into place is not trying to be someone else.
I would argue that all love poems are dreams. At the very least they are impressions in time which may or may not have truly ever existed.
Haven't you heard the debate on Courtly Love? To this day scholars argue whether or not the kind of chivalry and code of love which lie in these poems ever actually existed outside them.
As for passion, perhaps the speaker either has not yet had the chance to act on his feelings or has not yet decided to fully give into them.
Regardless, love poems are always first a personal expression and then fodder for people like you who think love must adhere to a certain formula.
More, I want more. Just so you know.
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