A woman searches, longs for love for we
Are taught to live with pious purity,
Without the natural longings we doth feel.
To women, love is an immortal sin.
Yet here have I two men, from which to choose.
My Arthur dear did first enchant my heart
With promises and songs to win my love.
He lit the fire that still burns inside.
Yet Lancelot, who lays down life and sword,
Here comes to make the fire blaze anew.
But Arthur’s hands are worn and callused now,
From age and wielding Excalibur’s hilt,
While Lancelot still softly caresses
With hands of softness lightly touching flesh.
Oh! How the pyre doth burn with confusion!
And warmer now I never burned within.
Here I have both two lovers stoking long
The embers, flames, and bitter ash of love.
Now I do fear that fire shall not cease
And burn ‘till all is but a smoky dream.
A contest entry
- Against All Odds, We Touched the Stars with Our Toes by PaintedParisPassion.
550 points, ended December 24, 2008, 25 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
This is wonderful, i love the theme of the piece. Thanks so much for sharing this. And Thanks for entering. Good luck in the contest, keep writing!
Peace and looooove
-B -
Beautiful
I like this. A lot. The fire imagery really jumped out at me.
Just one thing that bugged me was 'callused', but I looked it up and that's proper. I usually write 'calloused' with the 'o', so it annoyed me, but apparently both forms are correct.
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