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Open Poetry #37
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fashion’d from my wilderness
| Open Poetry #37 |
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fashion’d from my wilderness |
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RedStoneEB Senior Member
since 2003-06-08
Posts 772uk 
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’Tis I who will not be loved! Whose head is submerged, drowned by the moon; She shimmers in the heat wave, which wilt I bow before, the sun? To place my heart into the solar flare; - thro’ I will surely burn, ‘tis this kiss upon me, fashion’d from the wilderness. To breathe is but a longing thought, in too much haste to live, and bond our fingers onto those of death to see the drip of dew hanging from a leaf for us, we stood where no time stood but still, death hath let the flowers grow; - but I will pluck this earthly rose for thee. Still, thro’ no darkness shall chain my soul, weep for me, ‘tis but a fleeting dream; too little memories, and so much time hath passed, the heart once bled, sweetest drops doth taste; - like the yester nor morrow or the cometh day, but of now when thy soul shall take me away to the roots of all existence, ‘tis not in sight; - she is gone, the holder of this broken heart! O! Where’d that tongue now none, for speaking in my thought be gone; - into the hollow breathe be strung upon the heartache moving to and fro’ ’tis but the blooming of my feelings too late! Like winter cometh to all make me white; - cast upon the lake of tears the sheet of ice! And fish no more for feelings from the deep, isn’t it beautiful this place so full of emptiness; - ’tis o’er once morning slips its warmth around me where art thou—lost within my wilderness. To look upon thee in wonder, not o’er the breasts doth most admire; - nor o’er most desires of lust to thee I admire’d the smoothness of thy voice, the parting of those lips so precise; - the naked form, the depth in thy eyes ’tis but none I have shared with thee, thro’ truth be in those words; ’tis another thou hath loved and love. O sad but me alike, ‘tis I nor her, o’ver-shadowed by a doubt; - that wither’d away the feeling a hand in hand laced ‘tis not mine, a kiss upon a kiss ‘tis not mine; - a heart taught by the other ‘tis not mine a love felt yet not discover ‘tis by me alone; and sorrow knows the passage of my hope ’tis when morrow comes yester is no more. ’Tis I who will not be loved! But wear her as a crown upon this head; - the sun hath bowed before me it feels the mighty burns upon my flesh, the moon hast tried to woo me; - thro’ she missed the distance between us underneath her glow I feel a piece of hope remain, ’tis this kiss upon me, ‘this this kiss upon me; fashion’d from my wilderness. |
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| © Copyright 2006 Lee Hepworth - All Rights Reserved | |||
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JL Member Ascendant
since 2004-04-01
Posts 6128Texas, USA |
"too little memories, and so much time hath passed, the heart once bled, sweetest drops doth taste; - like the yester nor morrow or the cometh day, but of now when thy soul shall take me away to the roots of all existence, ‘tis not in sight; - she is gone, the holder of this broken heart!" Nice write! Very Shakespeare ‘ish Reminded me of my Welsh roots. JL  |
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RedStoneEB Senior Member
since 2003-06-08
Posts 772uk |
Thanks for the comment JL |
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A Romantic Heart Member Ascendant
since 1999-09-03
Posts 5496Forever In Your Heart |
Love has come and will dance across those lips, fingers will touch, burn you will not, by loves flameing embers, Love exists, love breathes, love moves all around you, catch it, feel it on the back of your neck, whispering in your ear,dancing inside your heart, Catch it while you can, for love is here, love is here~ love is near... Just some inspiration I received from your great words of poetry~  ~ARH |
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