No Shame in Love Tchaikovsky

I was asked to write a poem about Tchaikovsky the famous Russian composer from the 19th century who I knew very little about , this poem is said through his eyes. No Shame in Love Let them guess, my idol, my most adored, Whilst the bird of sorrow swoops Singing overtures of my descent, And offers forbidden to my lips, A feast of bosoms heaving in corsets stretched, An unbridled parade of sensuousness, The hour glass tempts? In pearl and diamond brocade dressed, Aspirations of foolishness, A creation of blood and flesh, Each layer kept in tact, fruit not mine. Whilst mother tongue in silence wept, Cloaked in scandal, dressed in French, And whispers hushed, like a lullaby, Upon my laboured wayward gaze, Beneath fallacious extended eyes, Waved silken fans, as dead souls Served our breathless guests, And wild with rage my musicked veins Strained, as beauty most foul slept, In the eyes of more inclined of men, I too wept. Arrangements made, bent on Love’s destruction, Between the sheets both passion and glory found, As impassioned veins stirred the bleeding Hearts of quasi mankind, and touched the peasant’s soul. My life damned, as voices swept my deepest shame, Below the frozen soil, ’til Spring aired the fickle thaw, And with it the secrets of my name, And beauty slept no more. A life of loves and truths denied, My composition of artistic veins, That strain each pore of music bled, Of knowing woe, of much regret, A lover of man-kind, a passion roused From the heavens blessed, And dined the rousing social battlefields Of tin soldiers wept, On knees and lips served shame and compliments, a futile mind bereft . But washed in wine and beauty And beauty how she slept, As my love danced with open arms, And drank from my claret mouth, For love too wore your pallid lips, Upon my heart each love filled kiss, Nature wronged a secret kept, As our scenic death, not mine alone, Through water flowed, And again the rapturous overtures Most forbidden played, As the sick-led hammer triumphant waved Upon our cursed sod that loved Not I nor man or God. No Shame in Love.