Sunday, July 8, 2012

SANS AMOUR


Cupid,

Must I pray
And fast out my last breath
That I may become your prey?

Shall I be the Pike
Begging the hungry fisherman
To pierce with his pike?

Must this lonely heart
Poke into your sightless-eye
Before you see me, horned Hart?

Shall you not hunt?
See, wild and mature I be,
Roaming in your haunts.

I pray thee,
Turn towards me thy arrowed bow,
Or I give my breath to River Dee.

I kneel, my head I bow,
Waiting for the bite of an arrow -
Flying from you bow.

Let the barbs tear
Into the depth of my soul.
That I may shed a joyous tear.

Here, I wait,
A loveless heart,
Sagging under its own weight.

2 comments:

  1. The arrow is on the way. I hope it'll see where to pass through.

    ReplyDelete

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