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Richard Ben Poem
The Tyrant
How cruel is love:
That it might entice a statue ,
Then forsake it when it move.
That it might crown a man Emperor,
Then banish him from his kingdom.
That it might deliver a man from the gallows,
Only to have him murdered by its own hand.
Oy vey, Of all the tyrants known to man,
There is none crueller then unrequited love.
Copyright © Richard Ben | Year Posted 2014
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Richard Ben Poem
The Conundrum
It is the noblest honour to serve,
But the most natural thing to love,
I present to you this conundrum,
Which is better to love or to serve?
To love is natural, to serve is noble,
Yet there exists no greater foe than these,
Man must choose,
If love triumph nobility is sacrificed,
If service triumph passion is sacrificed,
To ask man not to serve is blasphemy,
To ask man not to love is inhumane,
Shall we become stone’s to serve or
Become traitors to love.
True service enlists love, and there can
Be no love without service.
For which is better the love of a women
Or the admiration of men.
My weeping is two-fold,
One for never dreaming and
The other for never loving.
Copyright © Richard Ben | Year Posted 2014
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Richard Ben Poem
To the Lips that inspired this !
Kiss me my Love that I may live again,
For the night is cruel and my lips long for your sweet resurrection.
As God breathed life into Adam, breathe life into me with those divine lips.
Lips fashioned after the tree of life for through them I will live forever.
I have found my rest, my sabbath.
They say the eyes are window to the soul,
Well I have found the door, the portal to paradise, whose fruit are evergreen.
Fruit which nourishes my soul and invigorates my being.
As we engage in this sweltering symphony of passion, with each gasp
And sigh our youth is renewed.
The stars our audience applaud our audacity to love so unafraid.
To observers kissing is a collision of lips.
To me kissing is the reorientation to the living.
So kiss me again my love, that I may live again.
Copyright © Richard Ben | Year Posted 2014
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Richard Ben Poem
Oh Fates, incline thine ears to my petition,
Ye matriarchs of destiny, ye patrons of providence,
Quench my thirst with the waters of Helicon,
Nourish my hunger with divine ambrosia,
Reserve thy servant a seat at Calliope’s feast,
Grant thy servant a seat with her children,
Horace, Virgil and the magnificent Homer,
Let my works be not for a time but for the ages,
Let them echo throughout eternity,
Let the stars be named after them,
Let them be remembered in this life and heralded in the next.
Copyright © Richard Ben | Year Posted 2014
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