a poet, i am not. [i'm a pro football player]
by @stephane-noir
oh dear one
lost across the sea
so unknown to me,
how fair thy little mind
thinketh and playeth thy harp!
no man shall raise a hand to thee!
least ye scorn him,
banishing him
and his brazen knuckles
to the brazen edge of
the whole brazen universe.
shy be he not!
lameth shall he be forever.
but two shovels should be found
and used for to dig unto the ground,
a new grave: doubly wide and doubly deep
for two of the fairest of them all:
the maidens lost to the wilderness,
left to her own devices and thus
self-deprecating her selves
into planetary alignment
with that new planet they just found
that's like 1,000 times bigger than Saturn
and with millions of icy rings.
forever cold shall she be!
forever unknown to me!
bear witness to thy handiwork:
my shoulders, lips, and toenails are all mine;
for a moment they were thine
and in breaking my peace
i thus aireth my whine.
and i'm fine. really, i'm fine.
taketh no liberties with me!
giveth no light,
shareth no warmth!
beseech me no inquiries!
for i have not an answer that makes sense,
nor a limb that works perfectly,
and not a day goes by
that i don't ponder you.
yet
the
moon
pondereth
the
sun
forever
and
ever
and
ever
but
never
the
two
shall
meet.
wandereth, fair maiden,
and i shall wander, too.
but should you face about
my eyes will surely see you.