"mistempered" poems
For I understand, now,
That it was not love:
It was merely my mistempered;
Beshrewed list,
For what is só scarce
In this marred world:
She,
Is oft misused and no one descrys thee engrossing forfullment she gives:
Like a mantle of a paramour,
On a flesh penetrating night...
Marry!
My heart feels tossed on the abstract,
For I was overturned with the conceit
Of being Your Thisbe...
Your Trojan princess...
Your right-hand-lady...
But Sir,
My heart, now
Desires but one thing:
To be announced as one's kindred
And be loved as a kingsman
I am content, in faith!
Let us lief love
With a love, greater than love,
And may we build with flint
On the foundation of vestal love.
Let us be one another's bier
When our bodies brine;
Ghostly anchor...
Pilot in the bailful pestilence;
Crotchet in woe;
Behoveful paramour to tell aught to
Without the conceit of neither being cast by
Nor discreet;
Aqua vitae dram in languish...
When thát day abroach
I shall anon be aught...
Do aught for thy...
When thát day abroach
I shall doff
All inadequasies...
And love you
Invariably!
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 2:43 AM UTC
she left the pen on the shelf
for the last few days
afraid of her own mistempered tongue
& the way she felt so alone
in a crowded
bar
to dive in
with nostalgic hope
is to die
in heavy-laden glances
from the stage
& realize that this is all
you will ever have
left
& it is hell
yes
as it may always be
but you must let those eyes
gaze upon you
until you realize
you must walk away
with heightened
shoulders
'cause honey you were never
good enough
to stand up there
in the laughter
& the groovy depth
never good enough
to sing along
that
& you really ****
at the two-step
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 1:47 AM UTC