Tuesday, March 9, 2010

A courtly imitatio

Alas, do not dear writer hold your peace;
But sing here, sing of friendship or of love.
It is not time for thy sweet voice to cease;
Renew your woes, or raise your song above.


  1. ‘Tis not Love that holds my captive Heart,
    No, he cannot claim vict’ry at all,
    But rather, he sets his sights to tear apart
    My mind’s well-forged fortress walls.
    And he who taught me to defend,
    From impish arrows and love’s desire,
    Has no other thought than to impend
    The timeliest of pleas, accompanied by sweet voice and lyre.
    He urgently knocks against my walls and finds
    That though he is graceful, and dark, and true
    And pleasantries spill from lips, words ringing like chimes,
    He must surrender his fight, and turn me loose
    For my doomed Heart is but to wander,
    And always deny Love, who holds it under.

    -Caite Walsh

  2. The piercing season brings with it a storm
    And a chilly wind that freezes and bites
    It abandons the falling of autumn
    With blankets of powder and longer nights
    A snake escapes chill underground in his dorm
    And those who cannot stand the frost migrate
    The bear prepares food ‘fore the ground reforms
    And leaves him to tackle winter’s cold hate
    The windows bring frost when cold air meets warm
    A fogged canvas, merely brightened by lights
    Bleak mirrors reflect the iced wintry floor
    Covering the fish, but he sleeps, in spite
    Yet, to this weather must our hearts conform?
    No, not when my hand in yours feels so warm.

    -Makenna McAdoo