Tag Archives: The Romantic

My muse has left me; my passion is gone.
The words will not come, my thoughts suffocate
Under the weight of my brain’s stagnation
My rhymes have gone stale, my words lackluster

It should not affect me so, this dark thought
I cannot remember how to be sad,
How to be happy, I fear I’ve gone mad
It cannot be cured, this absence of hope.

Apathy is indeed a fearsome fate
For a poet, more so than most can know
Worse even than succumbing to my Hate
The death of my art deals a Mighty blow.

Mirth has ripped the sky asunder, pouring
Down a merry brew of frolicking sound
Pitter Patter! Drip Drop! The Night is gay
And the Moon bellows laughter at the joke.

The stars tumble across the storm soaked sky
Mighty Orion and Leo delight
As the jagged blazing grins saunter forth
Setting the heavens aflame in their wake

Quickly spent, though, is the celebration
Soon the meadows will be quiet again
Silent, serene, hallowed, unspoilt and cleansed
Save the rumbling departure of the World.

Love is not a thing of which to make light!
Love is the greatest of all the muses
Love brings Rhyme that refuses all reason
Love makes time sift through all of the seasons.

If Love were a song, it could make men weep
If Love could be painted, what a landscape
Then it would be, a masterpiece truly
A swirl of color!  Greater Galaxies
Hath not been made than all those ones with Love’s
True stars’ embrace. More powerful a force,
Even than Gravity, such strength has Love.

Love has no meter nor any measure
The greatest pronouncements cannot define
Love’s depth is vaster than Poets can say

Show not scorn for Love, but treat it in kind
For when a lover holds someone in mind
Such wonderment you shall ne’er again find
As strong and bold as two lovers can bind

Are you Gods, Angels, shining points of hope?
Do you possess meaning or are you stale?
Do you shimmer at my gaze alone
Or shine selfishly ‘pon your lofty Throne?

Wistfully I turn my sight to the sky
Longingly I wish on all ye old kings
If you could but hear my solemn prayer
Then may-hap I could present myself bare

But a wish, so granted, would be for naught
A gift I would squander, and fall from grace
Losing sight of my earnings, all my gains
So keep your sparkling gifts, O lofty kings

Be not the engine of my avarice
I pray thee, tempt me no more, Night-born lights
I’ll not succumb to the ease of a wish
Instead I’ll learn your weighty lesson well:

When you wish upon a star, always be
Mindful of who and what you truly are.