Eyes moisten with no reason
I lived a life
and failed to see it pass
leaving cold memories
of heated thighs
badly remembered
The clutching arms and lips
Always once more
desperately seeking
a purpose until
there wasn’t
and isn’t.
Tears falling with reason
JEMcL Jan 2020
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me prov’d,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.
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One of several sonnets I committed to heart in my early teens. Still true, 50 years later.
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Thank you for your visit, Fiona. I was unsure of posting this as it was writing in the midst of a melancholia. I have loved the work of the Bard all my life yet I cannot reach his truths. (I also can never remember poetry by rote – except for the scurrilous limericks I scribble)
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As we age, as we all age, let us never forget the bard’s advice:
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me prov’d,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.
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