Today, with a day to go, we are asked to write a poem that takes its inspiration from the life of a musician, poet, or other artist (I suspect it would help if we liked them too).
Having said goodbye to an old friend today, the temptation for elegy was declined, so I went for a relationship I’ve had for some time with an older man; a much older man.
I wrote this sonnet once this morning, thought it was a load of tosh, so tried again.
What Puck’s trick or potion made me love you?
Did Titania with spells bind my mind?
Then me, Caliban to your Prospero,
A betrothed slave to your words for all time.
Ours, a love whose name should not be spoken.
I, a Quickly child, have no place on stage,
Your allure, my Touchstone’s love unbroken,
With every glimpse of every word and page.
Exquisite dreams blossomed on lace pages.
Ink forged in blacksmith’s fires fashioned my pride.
Your usurpers cracked my cheeks with rages,
While I drank the draft of loves’ last goodbyes.
You gifted spirits, chance and asked, what be?
I make such dreams that your stuff put in me.
Missives & Musings 