You claim to know through hearsay
I can write and say a line.
And that may just be something,
But not poetry like thine.
Your lips were first, I noticed.
Their rosey, sanguine shine,
Their gentle part was stiff'ning,
and raises more than I.
If I could be those saintly words,
Sweet nothings from your lips,
I could be, would be art itself
Conceived in breathless kiss.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 2:45 PM UTC
You claim to know through hearsay
I can write and say a line.
And that may just be something,
But not poetry like thine.
Your lips were first, I noticed.
Their rosey, sanguine shine,
Their gentle part was stiff'ning,
and raises more than I.
If I could be those saintly words,
Sweet nothings from your lips,
I could be, would be art itself
Conceived in breathless kiss.
Oh, more common metre? But it's a playful one this time.
This is a rewrite of an older poem of mine. I rewrote it as a ballad and the tone and wording were significantly changed, I decided to repost it and retitle it.