I could pull out a nail,
had it been hammered
to make me wail.
I would pluck out an arrow
shot by love to sow sorrow.
I would even shed no tear
if stabbed with a spiteful spear.
But...
That ***** driven deep
'midst many a day’s heedless leap
had me short wallow and weep
in artful time's endless keep.
It spun and bit smaller than grit,
slower than a nit yet surer than seed.
Much more than greed sown to sneak.
Direr than deed, milder than mead.
Now on my knees, ******* in need,
By thine eyes smitten indeed.
©️Hirondelle (19/01/2019)
That young boy in Hirondelle is musing again to make you smile with the juvenile voice in the last couplet if not all across the poem! :)
I’ll come back with a more literary one very soon. :)
I won’t hide it... This playful mood came over me after I had been through a very long and relentlessly crushing working period.... Was looking for a catharsis, perhaps.
‘*******’ is for people who would prefer to indulge -but not wallow- in their woeful infatuations just to draw the thick sap of love from its pain and reversely concoct an elixir of joy.
Yes, joy in woe... A nimble mind and a strong heart relish that recipe. Masochism? Nooo... the heart and the mind abhor that... Let's leave it for want of another name and only enjoy the pleasure of being *******. :)