"And what are you two doing here?"
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Wednesday, September 3rd, 2003
| Time |
Event |
| 11:20p |
slashy TPM sonnets
I did say I might post them, didn't I? Well, here they are. You can also find them in the M_A archive, under the author name of Ere-Lian Maslii.
Quiet Joys
How like a bird thou art, in airy flight,
Thy slim and graceful limbs outstretched like wings!
To watch thee is to know the world is right,
And make my heart cry out like viol-strings.
I know thy form, thy face, thy golden love
Shall never seek my grey and aging heart;
Still, just to watch thee now, gliding above,
Doth deep within satisfy some small part
Of that which aches and cries out for thy touch--
Yet pains the rest the more, lacking your kiss.
I am an old man, and cannot ask much
Of thy kindheartedness, except for this:
That in these quiet hours when you ascend
The air, I watch beside you as a friend. | | 11:26p |
Slashy TPM sonnets, take 2
These two belong as a pair, and while they're saccharine enough to rot the teeth, I'm proud of them anyway--just because it took forever to get the end of "Question" right.
Question:
How can he choose me, from all of those
Who daily, nightly ask with limpid eyes,
Or sultry smiles, or lips red as the rose
His favors? I can't fathom, can't surmise
How I, so distant, so reluctant, grey
With age and care, could hold his youthful whim--
December cannot be bound unto May;
How is it I, tall, graceless, aged, and grim
Could push aside so may youthful hearts?
How can he, seeing them, reject their claims,
Their offered love, their sweet seductive arts,
And give instead to this old man those flames
That dance within his eyes, his touch, his soul?
His youthful fire kindles kindles this weary coal.
Reply:
Beside these flighty children, you stand tall,
Strong as the oak, which neither fire nor frost
Nor stormy winds will ever cause to fall.
Speak not to me of what your love may cost
Of my short life; I do, as birds of air,
Seek the strong shelter of your graceful arms,
Sure that the stormy blasts would never dare
To offer your smooth limbs their spiteful harms.
Blooms blossom and then fade within a day;
The noble oak outlives, shelters them all.
Why would I trust my heart to quick decay,
When your strong heart, strong shelter, will not pall?
The sparrow, worn and weary, seeks a nest
Where branches warm and solid guard his rest. | | 11:29p |
slashy TPM sonnets, take 3
I like this one.
Love's Burden
Surrender now to me your pain, your tears,
Here in this secret bed within my arms;
Give me your failures, angers, wounds, and fears
And I will hold you safe from all their harms.
Release to me each deep forbidden thing
A Jedi should not know, which to the Force
(Cold comfort the Force is!) you cannot bring;
I take upon myself all your remorse.
Let my lips take your tears, and healing give;
My touch upon your skin your burdens lift;
Give me these things, so you may freer live.
Even your deepest pain I count a gift.
I make your pain my own, to give you peace;
The burden mine now to keep or release. | | 11:29p |
slashy TPM sonnets, take 3
Last one. (For now. Rereading these has renewed my interest...)
Love's Burden
Surrender now to me your pain, your tears,
Here in this secret bed within my arms;
Give me your failures, angers, wounds, and fears
And I will hold you safe from all their harms.
Release to me each deep forbidden thing
A Jedi should not know, which to the Force
(Cold comfort the Force is!) you cannot bring;
I take upon myself all your remorse.
Let my lips take your tears, and healing give;
My touch upon your skin your burdens lift;
Give me these things, so you may freer live.
Even your deepest pain I count a gift.
I make your pain my own, to give you peace;
The burden mine now to keep or release. |
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