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Boaz Priestly
Poems
May 2020
not your bardling, but my own
bardling, a noun
I. to describe an inexperienced
and thus usually
inferior poet
II. more lover than fighter
preferring a broken heart
over ****** knuckles
but, don’t both burn
just the same?
III. and i can’t carry a tune
hands too unsteady to hold
an instrument with any
kind of confidence
but i could hold you
if only you’d let me
IV. though, what kind of
bard can i really be
if i don’t believe in
the concept of being in love
and the novelty of soulmates
continues to escape me?
V. not your bard
or bardling, rather
though, i could be
if only you’d ask
but it’s selfish of me
to want that, i know
VI. so, my love
and my captain
and my dear, dear friend
i’ll don bright clothes
and remake myself in
to a fool instead
VII. lay down some of this
melancholy at your feet
trying out glass half-empty
in all manners of love
VIII. and maybe i’ll learn how to
carry a tune without
my voice cracking
IX. a way to trick my hands into
no longer shaking
when i hold that instrument close
and coax such pretty sounds from
the strings
X. and, if i’d rather hold you
in place of all those strings
and stained wood
well, no one needs to know
Written by
Boaz Priestly
27/Transgender Male
(27/Transgender Male)
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MS Anjaan
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