Featured Poem: What Happens When A Poet Falls In Love

Featured Poem: What Happens When A Poet Falls In Love - by Martin Deep

Dusk brings the charms to my lips

It would seem.

The moon is here and

My tongue is ripe with whispers.

I can whisper now

For my eyes are weary

From telling poetry.

How you were enchanted with the rhyme my sighs poured when I touched

your fountain head!

The candles have gone all out

The muse has drunk up the oil of the lamp to the last droplet.

The innocent wigs dies noiselessly.

Is this what happens when a poet falls in love?

That my trashcan becomes the graveyard for my pen

That lay like thankless knights

That have bled to please their mistress for quests unsent.

Is this what happens when a poet falls in love?

That the innocence of papers are stolen?

How so many have cried in the merciless flames sentenced thus 'bearers

of unworthy words'

So pure our love is my love. So true.

A cherub perhaps is ravished and he cries to God to have him be our ring bearer.

What other fulfillment is greater than our spirits soaring in each other's eyes?

Is this what happens when a poet falls in love?

That he weeps when his lover's beauty is adored lesser than a seraph's.

While you sleep

I'll say a prayer

That will keep me

In this dream forever.

Is this what happens when a poet falls in love?

This tragedy?

Comments

Fiction | The Tripod Effect

THE TRIPOD EFFECT The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the surrogate father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife and said, "I'm off. The man should be here soon" Half an hour later, just by chance a door- to-door baby photographer rang the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. "Good morning, madam. I've come to...." "Oh, no need to explain. I've been expecting you," Mrs. Smith cut in. "Really?" the photographer asked. "Well, good. I've made a speciality of babies" "That's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat" After a moment, she asked, blushing, "Well, where do we start?" "Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch and perhaps a couple on the bed. Sometimes the living room floor is fun too; you can really spread out!" "Bathtub, living room floo...

Letter To My Son

Dear Son Try to forget that nothing waits in the dark, raise your shoulder high wave off the frea and step into that lane. Won't you rather be gone in there than stay out here playing the coward? Get up now, son everyone falls. #Pengician #SSA http://bit.ly/2haEhoj

RIP: Return If Possible (Ode to my High School crush)

She would wink at me from the corner of her eyes. She would dare to slap the tallest in my class if he dares bully me for penning his name in my list of noise makers. She would share her pen when mine is spent. She would help me take notes when sick I lay in bed. She played my advocate even when I least deserve it. Her height, though intimidating earned more of my admiration. Her fingers Her palms though long and bold compared to my petite own were my favourite to hold. She was loud and noisy not never made the list. She would speak Igbo and wink 'you dare not write my name' Her drawings, I did when others I snub. JSS 3 to SSS 1 I crushed on this pretty girl But I was too shy to ink that poem. I left without letting you know how much I care. Had no time to appreciate your kind gestures undeserved defense... You were my crush. Augusta, When I found first Facebook you were the first I searched to add... In vain I searched You were not found. I stalked the walls of our cl...

Jaachi Writes

Search This Blog