Ian Stewart Black

Modern master of classical poetry

Month: March, 2014

Ordinary Love

I’ve had my fill of fireworks and butterflies;
The river never dries, another stoops to drink
Those same familiar waters of my yearning years.
The gushing spirit of romanticism dies
Along with gasping youth – no, let another drink;
This common sustenance is boring me to tears.

Another Juliette for weary Romeo;
Another angel woven from the pale moonlight;
Enough! Infatuation holds its tired charms,
But that old river wends its way through commonplace
Horizons – nowhere that I haven’t seen before.
Give me the impossible, and I will love you.

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Dorian

Consign to history the muse of Troy
Whose beauty conquers any heart but mine,
Which loves and weeps in longing for a boy
In freshly burgeoned lustre on the vine.
Possessed of all that time and age dilute
And never find their way to reconstruct:
My own awaking, freshly ripened fruit
In perfect blossom but as yet unplucked.
Enamoured of this love that nature bore
To penetrate into the heart of me;
I gladly yield my hand to guide, and more:
Indulge in nature as it ought to be.
The boy would be a man in my embrace,
If I could harvest of his fruits – and taste.

And such an appetite I have to feast
Voraciously upon his primal spire:
To make of that unseasoned buck a beast
Beneath the moonlight of my own desire.
Or better yet, he should remain endowed
With all the innocence of boyish charm:
Inhibited by youth’s forbidding shroud
Until he lies surrendered in my arms.
My kingdom for that one, indulgent hour
Of such elusive satisfaction; just
To fall upon his promise, and devour;
To soar in rapturous delight of lust.
Would sorrow perish in his passion-throes…
Or appetite, for having tasted, grow.

I sail for conquest of uncharted land:
To seal, in one almighty trembling gasp,
The majesty of his dominion’s span
Forever in my domineering grasp.
Full-bodied in my yearning, tantalised
By all that waits on that abundant shore:
My lust-begotten longings realised
In plundering his undiscovered store.
A conqueror of Eden, yes, but more:
A liberating idol from beyond
The swollen sea of time – to be adored
As emissary of the coming dawn.
Oh, love! To venture where my dreams have roamed:
To move within his realm, and call it ‘home’.

What dreams they are, for fallen cherries taste
As pale and bitter counterfeits to those
Of blushing, blooming, fruitful lips – encased
In pallid flesh to rival virgin snows.
A longing glance from his delirious,
Enraptured eyes; unspoken questions met
With certainty from my imperious
Device; amid elation, sighs and sweat:
Apotheosis! Oh, perfection of
A little death! Immeasurable wealth
In those climactic moments wherein love
Has conquered breath, and form, and thought, and self.
The world that here awaits your eyes may seem
A paradise; Alas, ‘tis all a dream.

My sweet chimera – damsel, maiden, knight!
A fearless beauty lingers in your youth;
But time will see your heart is broken – night
Will fall enwrought with darkly fashioned truth;
And I, with all my triumphs and my charms,
Will witness beauty wither on the vine;
My everything in some seducer’s arms:
A subject to a lesser love than mine.
Fair Dorian, forbid despair to waste
What once is lost and never thus regained;
Oh, lust! Release yourself in my embrace
‘Til only you and I and love remain.
Ascend to that euphoric, sacred plane
‘Til only you and I and love remain.