elyse
10-01-2006, 09:40 AM
this Iron Poet commission came from an online friend. his three mystery words were:
tender, refract, texture
his requested form was free verse, but exactly fourteen lines -- no more, no less. this poem was written in two quintains and a quatrain; any extra lines you may see are the result of text-wrapping in the window...
(note: i think this belongs here in 'non-erotic' but it was a tough call...)
VICTORY
No, you were no exception, beginning -- as all begin -- with
flush, and stammer, and bright-eyed aspiration
to build her soaring, starlit towers. Her lavish,
hidden bowers were your work, too: your pride,
and her prison.
Continuing, heedless of all warning, you carouse through still-unpaved streets,
employing your sidelong glance, your impromptu dance and practiced kiss
in a nightly sarabande of exultant conquest so intense in carnal texture
as to render fragile flesh tender
to the point of madness.
Inevitably ending with one final, stolen glimpse beyond her broken bridge,
you flee, as the the dying fires of your abandoned city
refract in the suspended, trembling prism
of the last tear she will ever shed for you.
-- elyse
tender, refract, texture
his requested form was free verse, but exactly fourteen lines -- no more, no less. this poem was written in two quintains and a quatrain; any extra lines you may see are the result of text-wrapping in the window...
(note: i think this belongs here in 'non-erotic' but it was a tough call...)
VICTORY
No, you were no exception, beginning -- as all begin -- with
flush, and stammer, and bright-eyed aspiration
to build her soaring, starlit towers. Her lavish,
hidden bowers were your work, too: your pride,
and her prison.
Continuing, heedless of all warning, you carouse through still-unpaved streets,
employing your sidelong glance, your impromptu dance and practiced kiss
in a nightly sarabande of exultant conquest so intense in carnal texture
as to render fragile flesh tender
to the point of madness.
Inevitably ending with one final, stolen glimpse beyond her broken bridge,
you flee, as the the dying fires of your abandoned city
refract in the suspended, trembling prism
of the last tear she will ever shed for you.
-- elyse