My birthday was few days ago (Monday 5th, November), and a friend dedicated this beautiful piece of poetry to me.
Couldn't help but share. I hope you have a good read.
I know not yet any better, young head
Still far from twilight with light-years
Whose span not halved, so his lines
Who gives me what I can't give
From scribbles and clicks of his fingers
Intoxicating vinegar of sweet lines
Such that I became his timeline habitue
Daily routine port of call I elect
To muse and be mused by this bard
Libidinous is your muse, o Stefn!
It is the grey of his muse not age
That begets my wonderment to feel
One who threw calendrical challenge
On Three sixty-five one quarter days
Desk-binding, back-breaking confinement
A single soul that became a pen prisoner
Graduate of Gitmo and Golgotha School of Poetry
Pen warriors alone know what conquest
It is to write; have tasted the bitter fruit
Have worn the pinching shoes
Is he mused or he's the muse?
His hands cuffed by the seductress
Nine goddesses, breasts dangling
With phallic urge as makes pen erect
Till he cums, volumes ejaculating
The seductress won't have enough of you
Till you became oeuvre of her thirst
Libidinous is your muse, o Stefn!
The genres break specification
When the Hydra-muse beckons
it is erotica you called, of love
Of hope that failed us and has feather still
Of the thankless church and of all
You have won over 300
I know not what today is numbered
But you will win still
For your calendrical quest is almost met
For your muse is libidinous, o Stefn!
- Aficionado
Still far from twilight with light-years
Whose span not halved, so his lines
Who gives me what I can't give
From scribbles and clicks of his fingers
Intoxicating vinegar of sweet lines
Such that I became his timeline habitue
Daily routine port of call I elect
To muse and be mused by this bard
Libidinous is your muse, o Stefn!
It is the grey of his muse not age
That begets my wonderment to feel
One who threw calendrical challenge
On Three sixty-five one quarter days
Desk-binding, back-breaking confinement
A single soul that became a pen prisoner
Graduate of Gitmo and Golgotha School of Poetry
Pen warriors alone know what conquest
It is to write; have tasted the bitter fruit
Have worn the pinching shoes
Is he mused or he's the muse?
His hands cuffed by the seductress
Nine goddesses, breasts dangling
With phallic urge as makes pen erect
Till he cums, volumes ejaculating
The seductress won't have enough of you
Till you became oeuvre of her thirst
Libidinous is your muse, o Stefn!
The genres break specification
When the Hydra-muse beckons
it is erotica you called, of love
Of hope that failed us and has feather still
Of the thankless church and of all
You have won over 300
I know not what today is numbered
But you will win still
For your calendrical quest is almost met
For your muse is libidinous, o Stefn!
- Aficionado
My friend would be conquering 2018 calendar with his self-appointed chore of a poem a day. This is a hard task that leaves me wondering how imprisoned he is to achieve that.Stefn, you are a muse and I don't even know how to say this, but only those who try to write would understand how tasking it is actually to write.Happy birthday and have a blast bro!
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