Scarlet

**** Would like to preface my return, and many apologies to fellow poets who may have missed my absence. Though I did not have much luck in love this past year, this poem was written years ago; I think it is a fine poem though sad, which some may know my attempts at sweet-sorrow have well pleased many. The poem not only reflects tragic romance, but spiritual matters; the instructive distinction that its the soul or heart who remembers things of love, rather than the mind; I think of my passed loved ones in my view with my heart felt memories rather than a mental memory, for example. I find the 'idea' or notion poetically at least interesting and pertinent to romanticism, which is the poem's theme.*** How honeyed her perfume pastille imbued many a god from their tower Shook all the gloom which lonely men feel she some mistress of darling power; teems she the night with sweet mist desires she all the allure of nymphs She has strolled my garden many a time forgotten I, the devil's music playing in the hills and the sad forsaken tresses --- weeping as a child; or the dying swan and all her lamenting trills; how many faces of God to touches of love how many more gods, though there need be but One? How femme she-so-fatale and not enduring with soft, she pecks my cheek and all the universe her eyes --- so sweet her kiss as worlds fade in yearning to cinnamon lips, she of eyes wandering and wild; twas her soul I wished to hold with curves, lingering delicate and never cold Death shall take her to the lonely-wood.... from me shall fade the petal most crimson about the night no more a-roving I could nor velvet embraces with she my love; the temporal love shall fall to heather the winds blow, and the tempest's trumpet roars about her whisper; but in the deepest dark I roved the delve; twas my soul which remembered (Scarlet)