"jousters" poems
She doesn't own a mirror.
Confirmation of her beauty comes from those around her at all times.
Fawning fools adore,
jealous sisters abhor,
but all notice the shine of her hair, the tilt of her lips.
She does not dance.
Her steps lead, and dancers follow with no reasons nor rhymes. They cry:
"Lead me not into temptation",
but in her ministrations,
they ache and beg for her glance, their hearts in her grips.
She does not care for suitors.
Her heart was long ago dulled by the fencing blades of admirers. And yet I
if honest, must admit
that it is a careless abandon, devoid of wit
that begs me join her jousters in mock combat for the privilege of her kiss.
What a porcelain fool, she, to inspire such a heartfelt, bloodtaxed roust.
What sorrier the fool, me, to join in such a sure dealt, unasked joust.
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 7:48 PM UTC
I thought that we were heaven sent but found that we're just jousters in a life or death event.
and I don't want to take part in this tournament or wait in the tent until my name is called.
The referee,who he may be,I do not know.
but he must be a proper so and so to bring us here into the ring of fear.
I would go home but where is that? it turns out true, that this world I knew is not flat but round and I would just come back to fight the same old ground, the same old motley crew,what can I do?
Next time,
please give me a break,
send me to some deep volcanic lake and let me drown
in peace.
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 12:04 AM UTC
However much I tried to hold it,
That smile took over once we'd started to dance,
Winds caught our cloaks, holding them for us.
My smallnesses were treated as tender vessels of grace,
Collected inside his gentle instruments of playful security,
We were both safe and in danger, it was all possible and perfect,
No barriers or protections, only the terrible magnificence of constancy.
Twisting across our five senses until we couldn't think of other places,
Only the here and now because everything else wasn't real,
It was ecstasy, his eyes fixed on my every movement.
I was a performance he'd give four stars,
If he could pluck them out of the night sky.
Curves and angles, lion heads spreading into the air,
Tempting eyes to water and noses to itch,
Dizziness made it all soo real, slowing down reality.
Allowing us to be here as long as our hearts could hold out,
Our feet kept up somehow, these stolen shoes, his borrowed boots,
Glided over green grasses beaten sticky and wet,
By our twirling figures oblivious to fatigue,
I fell first, he stumbled back like a champion undaunted,
By a jousters spear to the chest but,
He to was sent spinning to the ground.
We fell asleep watching creation reveal itself.
As our bodies began to shutdown,
Defying our desire to remain awake,
Forever.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC