Sunday, November 27, 2011

I SEE A RIPE GRAPE DANGLING ON THE VINE

I have reached over the wall-
And my eyes have seen the grape on the vine.
My heart craves what my eyes have seen- that is my fall;
The grape on the vine must be mine.


Again, I look over the wall and I  know the grief of Eve;
I know the thoughts that made her thieve-
I see the grape ripe - on the stem it dangles-
And with my soul, my stricken heart wrangles.


My eyes glint, my hands shake like a leaf in the breeze
As the yearning within my  heart finds no release.
My sweet precious, there on the wilting vine-
My precious there, over the fence, mine and only mine.


And then the voice whispers;
The fruit for which your heart hungers
May bear the mark of another.
Shall I then let go or put asunder?


If I let go what my heart desires,
Would not I die from its raging fires?
Would I again see, would I again open my heart-
Or would I forever be the haunted hart?


I have heard how some have loved and lost;
And some have bellied theirs into the dust.
But, if Romeo loved and swallowed the wine of death-
Shall I not pluck the grape, even if it be a damning debt?

2 comments:

  1. Making my rounds of the Insecure Writer's Support Group participants. Our next post is January 4 - hope you can join us!

    ReplyDelete

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