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Mitch Prax Oct 2020
The sharp claws you hide
beneath your tender fingers
do not frighten me

4:06 PM
26/10/20
Michael R Burch Oct 2020
These are poems about Ann Rutledge and her romantic relationship with Abraham Lincoln.

Winter Thoughts of Ann Rutledge
by Michael R. Burch

Winter was not easy,
nor would the spring return.
I knew you by your absence,
as men are wont to burn
with strange indwelling fire —
such longings you inspire!

But winter was not easy,
nor would the sun relent
from sculpting ****** images
and how could I repent?
I left quaint offerings in the snow,
more maiden than I care to know.



Ann Rutledge’s Irregular Quilt
by Michael R. Burch

based on “Lincoln the Unknown” by Dale Carnegie

I.
Her fingers “plied the needle” with “unusual swiftness and art”
till Abe knelt down beside her: then her demoralized heart
set Eros’s dart a-quiver; thus a crazy quilt emerged:
strange stitches all a-kilter, all patterns lost. (Her host
kept her vicarious laughter barely submerged.)

II.
Years later she’d show off the quilt with its uncertain stitches
as evidence love undermines men’s plans and women’s strictures
(and a plethora of scriptures.)

III.
But O the sacred tenderness Ann’s reckless stitch contains
and all the world’s felicities: rich cloth, for love’s fine gains,
for sweethearts’ tremulous fingers and their bright, uncertain vows
and all love’s blithe, erratic hopes (like now’s).

IV.
Years later on a pilgrimage, by tenderness obsessed,
Dale Carnegie, drawn to her grave, found weeds in her place of rest
and mowed them back, revealing the spot of the Railsplitter’s joy and grief
(and his hope and his disbelief).

V.
For such is the tenderness of love, and such are its disappointments.
Love is a book of rhapsodic poems. Love is an grab bag of ointments.
Love is the finger poised, the smile, the Question — perhaps the Answer?
Love is the pain of betrayal, the two left feet of the dancer.

VI.
There were ladies of ill repute in his past. Or so he thought. Was it true?
And yet he loved them, Ann (sweet Ann!), as tenderly as he loved you.

Ann Rutledge was Abraham Lincoln’s first love interest. Unfortunately, she was engaged to another man when they met, then died with typhoid fever at age 22. According to a friend, Isaac Cogdal, when asked if he had loved her, Lincoln replied: “It is true—true indeed I did. I loved the woman dearly and soundly: She was a handsome girl—would have made a good, loving wife… I did honestly and truly love the girl and think often, often of her now.”

Ann Rutledge’s grave marker in Petersburg, Illinois, contains a poem written by Edgar Lee Masters in which she is “Beloved of Abraham Lincoln, / Wedded to him, not through union, / But through separation.”

Ann Rutledge’s original grave at Old Concord, once neglected, has a fairly new marker provided by her family. One side of the maker, along with her name and dates, reads: “Where Lincoln Wept.” An account popularized by William Herndon in his biography is that Lincoln was so distraught by Ann’s death that he knelt and wept at her grave. On the reverse side of the marker is carved “I cannot bear to think of her out there alone in the storm. A. Lincoln.”

Herndon was Lincoln’s law partner and a friend. He also attended poetry readings with Lincoln, who wrote poems himself. Lincoln called Herndon "my man always above all other men on the globe."

Following Lincoln's assassination, Herndon began collecting accounts of Lincoln's life from people who knew him. Herndon wanted to write a faithful portrait of his friend, based on the hundreds of letters and interviews he had compiled, plus his own recollections. He was determined to present Lincoln as the man he actually was, not as a romanticized national hero and saint, and this meant revealing things other biographers would omit or elide, due to the puritanical conventions of that day. Such details included Lincoln’s suicidal depression and his contentious relationship with his wife, Mary Todd Lincoln. And Herndon maintained that Ann Rutledge was Lincoln’s only true love.

Keywords/Tags: Ann Rutledge, Abraham Lincoln, poem, poems, poetry, love, lover, mistress, paramour, romance, romantic, quilt, grave, Dale Carnegie, William Herndon
Ricotta Oct 2020
I think I might be lost in you,
my love.
I hope you never ever leave my side
sweet angel
you've got my heart on your sleeve
Queen Z Oct 2020
He had proposed me openly on the road,
I used to ignore thinking him a crazy lover.
One day even slapped after getting irritated,
But he was really crazy,
Painted me also in his colour of love.

Started a new life with him and fought to the whole family,
At first he was addicted by me then alcohol was intoxicating.
And one day, he went very far,left me alone
Months passed,couldn't forget.
Also couldn't give place to someone in this rude life.

He has returned to my threshold once again
This is his desire to make a  place again in my life
Michael Ryan Oct 2020
You can't know me.
It's simply not possible.

You can know my name.
My desire.
Needs.
Even how I take coffee in the morning.
(I don't drink coffee.)

You could call me
your friend,
maybe best friend,
or even lover.
(I am, what you ask.)

I could become a beacon
of undeniable hope,
an admirable force
defying odds never even imagined.
(I have a flashlight somewhere.)

Sadly.
Distance.
Will keep it all away.



Do you drink coffee in the morning?
There might be things you've never told people, and maybe those things linger with you.  Please, let's know each other.
rk Oct 2020
i want to unravel you
pick apart your bones
devour you so hungrily,
you'll stain my sheets
and leave me aching.
- h a d e s; my love.
Aquila Oct 2020
I am on to bigger
and better
people
and she will stay in
    her
      little
       world,
             forever.
       and one day it will burn.
and I won't care
oop
𝐕𝐕 Oct 2020
To fulfill a psychopath’s pleasurable dream while under psychological stress is rather an unorthodox way to keep your mind ******* on tight.
don’t do it — you would unmistakably lose yourself in the end if you treat yourself to these people’s wishes. do not fall to the manipulative appearance of a potential lover, for there is more charm amongst the living right-minded people.
Onyx Oct 2020
lying on the great expanse of pure white
shining bright as the unforeseen, speckless future
yonder desired and eagerly awaited
snow so thick yet so warm
a coalescence of innocence carpeting beneath the earnest lover
eagerly awaiting for slivers of bliss
flitting through the universe it transcends
,the vastitude of which may limit only if one conceives the boundaries of,
slipping into the fabric of mind and dreams of our lover
a wave of delight washes over
indescribable and overwhelming was the riot of love in the lonesome lover
lying on the snow garnering comfort
from the warmth of memories inked with permanence onto the waiting lover
Mitch Prax Oct 2020
The nights
are growing darker
and the waves
are getting rougher
Surrounded by
darkness and disarray,
I make my haven
in this boat built for two.
This love is an ocean
beneath a sky of uncertainty-
it consumes us night after night.
But, together,
we take this voyage-
just me and you.
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