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Thomas Peterlin Poem
I heard so long before, crying from fields where blow
it 'round the lonely stones, hair-waving gentleness.
Were it a poison o, still I would ride its breeze,
trailing so finely forgetting resentfulness.
How can it worry, when ne’r does it lack its ease
Winding and binding the waters and highest cloud?
Oh that I could have run past those unbending trees,
For to return to the land were my thoughts ring loud
when the breeze takes me away from this bleakest light.
Unto the storm! I go unto its lighten’d shroud!
Perverted science, our earth, oh our earth in plight.
Need them we never shall, for we shall never leave.
Stormy winds blow past our necks, and the gods, they know
When ones like we have found what they could never show.
Me, oh for me, thus myself low, in mourning. Such
men blame themselves, their lost love from whence hope arose.
Hope, it depends only on wishes ne’r conceiv’d
past what primordial dreams that men hold so close.
Fantastic imag’ry, happiness here receiv’d,
tells himself that which he wishes so much to hear.
How can a man so himself cover, so deceiv’d?
How did he think that this love, unthought, would appear?
How can he walk down this rail-thin road while so blind?
Whether he wonder’d if living or not, its here!
Sailing across the sea, riding waves, felt so kind.
Parted his life when his glass house did shatter, and
there in the fields, he lie on his back, pain’d so much.
Where was his love? Could it have been in fleeting touch?
Cried out he did when his life shatter’d ‘fore his eyes.
He wanted never to look back with morose face,
Only look forward to future loves, of this kind.
Laughter and joyous voice, sounded in man’s cold race,
touch’d by the countless works of dissilusion’d mind,
art from adversity, love from the artist’s heart,
pain’d from eternal grief, mark’d by eternal grind,
in love’s name, his one wish, from whence his hope would part.
Realiz’d that his heart will never see love again,
Turn’d to in desp’rate resistance against his heart,
winds, rays, and waters, his void fill’d with life again,
Were it a poison o, still he would ride the breeze.
Love loses meaning, emotion, no more he cries,
Only the sun, the stars and dark, cool ev’ning skies.
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Dactyllic Alexandrine
Copyright © Thomas Peterlin | Year Posted 2011
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Details |
Thomas Peterlin Poem
Low, in darkness, damp and cold
stand I, free, but never bold.
Lonely wind caresses me.
Whether this is courtesy,
has yet to be foreseen.
Once I tower'd oe'r a cloud.
Stood I, free, and always proud.
At my side, that beauty stood.
Do for her all that I could,
and happy were we then.
Not for long, with me she stayed.
When he came out of the shade.
Gave her more than I e'r had.
All the love that this young lad
had ever seen and more.
Can I blame her, leaving me?
Should I dwell on memory?
After all he loved her too.
Who's to say why I am blue,
and who deserv'd her more?
Fate has ways of killing us,
Rob us of our will, it must.
Then it takes our pride away
and strips our lives until we stay
forever locked, in love.
Down my caverns fill'd with ice.
echoes how I've paid my price.
Cruel, perhaps, but loneliness,
has always been man's holiness
and solitude, desire.
Once you've crossed that Hades' gate
Never more can you await
safety in security.
Even if your love may be,
the purest of the pure.
Low, in darkness, damp and cold
stand I, free, but never bold.
Lonely wind caresses me.
Whether this is courtesy,
has yet to be foreseen.
Copyright © Thomas Peterlin | Year Posted 2011
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