2020-04-24 07:35:07 +00:00
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<title>Zk | Poems from Missives</title>
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<h1>Zk | Poems from Missives</h1>
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<article class="content">
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2020-04-24 08:30:08 +00:00
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<p><span class="tag">writing</span> <span class="tag">poetry</span></p>
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<p><q class="comment">In <em>Eigengrau</em></q></p>
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2020-06-24 07:15:07 +00:00
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<div class="verse">Though the flow’r may bloom ere long
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2020-04-24 07:35:07 +00:00
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and night recede unto the dawn,
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2020-06-24 07:15:07 +00:00
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so yet may love’s embrace grow fond
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2020-04-24 07:35:07 +00:00
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and still be spoilt upon the wan.
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Brave are you and wield your smile:
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A cudgel, tool, a keen-edged blade.
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You are not wan, love is not spoilt;
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thus I be slain and love not fade.
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2020-06-24 07:15:07 +00:00
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Have I any need for flow’rs?
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2020-04-24 07:35:07 +00:00
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For nights, for dawns, for words or breath?
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With so keen and fond a blade,
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2020-06-24 07:15:07 +00:00
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There’s naught to fear in life or death.
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2020-04-24 07:35:07 +00:00
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So slay, then slay! For now, I care not how,
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I need for naught but that which love allow.</div>
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<hr />
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<p><q class="comment">In <em>Eigengrau</em></q></p>
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<div class="verse">Though every climax approach a denouement
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And every dawn a night,
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Every moment worth sharing
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May be worth stealing.
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Were it with you,
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Delay, then, the morn.
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When every touch lingers as if forever
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And yet seems to pass too soon,
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Hearts reach out to hearts,
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To seek, to aim, to keep.
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Were it with you,
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Delay, then, the morn.
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2020-06-24 07:15:07 +00:00
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Surely it’s cruelty that need begets need begets need,
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2020-04-24 07:35:07 +00:00
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And yet need may bring pleasure.
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Pleasure may hurt, ache, burn,
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May steal hours of night.
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Were it with you,
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Delay, then, the morn.</div>
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<hr />
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<p><q class="comment">In <em>Eigengrau</em></q></p>
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<div class="verse">I reach for the ewer of water,
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I hope to quench the heat.
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I beg for yet another serving,
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I hope to fill my need.
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2020-06-24 07:15:07 +00:00
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The water – cool – cools not
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2020-04-24 07:35:07 +00:00
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Without thy merry presence.
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2020-06-24 07:15:07 +00:00
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The food fills, passes, is gone –
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2020-04-24 07:35:07 +00:00
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Yet leaves me empty, yearning.
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2020-06-24 07:15:07 +00:00
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Though the heart may quicken –
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Though the tongue may lap –
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2020-04-24 07:35:07 +00:00
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I shall sup no greater meal
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Than thy gift entrancing.</div>
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<hr />
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<p><q class="comment">In <em>Eigengrau</em></q></p>
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<div class="verse">On reading letters late received,
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2020-06-24 07:15:07 +00:00
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I felt within: the fox –
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Yelping, yowling now, crying needfully –
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2020-04-24 07:35:07 +00:00
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Myself, a craving beast.
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2020-06-24 07:15:07 +00:00
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You find me at a disadvantage –
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Panting and aswish –
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2020-04-24 07:35:07 +00:00
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Would that distance be traversed as easily
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2020-06-24 07:15:07 +00:00
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As hearts t’wards yearning hearts!</div>
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2020-04-24 07:35:07 +00:00
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<hr />
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<p><q class="comment">In <em>Eigengrau</em></q></p>
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<div class="verse">A rose, single, now blooming
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may indeed bless the stem,
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2020-06-24 07:15:07 +00:00
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yet are not roses clipp’d and shown?
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Undoubted ‘tis a blessing to them
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2020-04-24 07:35:07 +00:00
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who receive such a gift!
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2020-06-24 07:15:07 +00:00
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Yet now unmade is the flow’r
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2020-04-24 07:35:07 +00:00
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which adorns thy mantle with its grace
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and withers, however slowly, by the hour,
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2020-06-24 07:15:07 +00:00
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until ‘tis faded to nothing and dust,
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2020-04-24 07:35:07 +00:00
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though some scent remain forever amidst the must.
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A rose, single, now blooming
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is perhaps best left on the stem,
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its beauty to be admired amidst the growth.
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2020-06-24 07:15:07 +00:00
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Surely ‘tis better to long for that gem,
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2020-04-24 07:35:07 +00:00
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than witness beauty wilt and dry!
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Yet now one must long indeed, must burn,
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Must yearn forever for that grace.
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2020-06-24 07:15:07 +00:00
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To watch that growth, to explore stem’s turn,
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2020-04-24 07:35:07 +00:00
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day by day would destroy, weakening one by the hour,
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2020-06-24 07:15:07 +00:00
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A rose, single, now blooming, forever holds all pow’r.</div>
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2020-04-24 07:35:07 +00:00
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2020-06-24 07:15:07 +00:00
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<p>Page generated on 2020-06-24</p>
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2020-04-24 07:35:07 +00:00
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2020-06-24 07:15:07 +00:00
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2020-04-24 07:35:07 +00:00
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