It’s been said

by ianblackpoet

Are there yet words to speak my heart,

Or have they all run dry?

From poets, through the ages, striving,

To the same end as I.

Is there a way to tell my sorrow,

As if I am the first,

And not another fledgling poet,

Claiming my heart ‘cursed’.

Oh, to be a pioneer,

And not some modern wave,

To craft my words as if anew,

And take them to my grave.

It is my wish to tell the world,

In timeless, tender verse,

Of how you are the highest angel,

Without language, traversed.

If there’s a way to have it known,

The beauty which you bring,

Without some classic reference,

To roses, light or spring.

Then it lays not within my grasp,

Although I clutch at straws.

I fail to speak of how I weep,

And suffer at your loss.

I possess no way to conjure,

A language of my own,

And form an image of your beauty,

Charged to I, alone.

Some great poet, I must be,

To fall upon cliché.

To turn to methods, tried and tested,

When I don’t know what to say.

In all truth, I have no option,

But to say as those before.

My love is the end of life,

And shall, forever, soar.

So if I say you are an angel,

Or name you as my rose.

If I declare my love ‘eternal’,

As I did so long ago.

If I adorn your name with grace,

Or say you light the sky.

If I proclaim our souls as one,

And, without you, I die.

Know the reason is sincere,

That every word is true.

In all the ages of creation,

Never beauty, such as you.