An elegance of soul defines
Your sensual fluidity,
While pleasure’s intimate designs
Deprive you of lucidity;
Your loving innocence imbued
With such erotic appetite
That longs for you to lie subdued
And naked in the candlelight.
Oblivious to time, a slave
To bliss as love and lust entwine;
With every laboured breath, you crave
My touch – to know that you are mine.
Anyone who has enjoyed my work in the past, please click this link and carefully consider what you read on the other side. As a 21st century poet, I have been conditioned to expect a rather cold response, but to anyone kind and noble enough to prove me wrong: Thank you.
I never wept at sorrow’s beckoning,
Though heaven knows she claimed me as her own;
Nor shed a tear for passion’s reckoning,
When love betrayed me, and I bled alone.
My gaze persisted when my heart gave out,
Forever fixed upon a distant light;
I fell apart within, endured without,
And only solemn stillness marked my plight;
These eyes belied the pain when hope had gone,
No matter how I mourned the life before;
I never felt that bitter warmth upon
My cheek until I fell for you, and swore:
“For you, I live – and for you, I would die”.
But in return, you taught me how to cry.
A taste of some familiar grief –
The heart avails you when the mind is rotten;
For all your joy and your belief,
The world is still a cunt. Had you forgotten?
Thus begin the same reclusive
Nights, and all the sadness you can swallow;
When the first of hope’s illusive
Children fall, the rest are sure to follow.
Ian Stewart Black 