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.
‘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.
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.
‘Tis not Love that holds my captive Heart,
ReplyDeleteNo, 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
The piercing season brings with it a storm
ReplyDeleteAnd 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