Last eve I chanced to gaze upon the stars,
to find a pair cast down from heav'n above.
They streaked across the sky; a painter's brush
could not have made a smoother shimm'ring stroke.
Like lovers they together fell to earth,
in fiery passion astral love was quenched
and as the two flew from the frozen sky,
a tear with dreams of reunited love
did swell to flood my lonely, aching heart.
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I was cleaning out the basement this weekend and in a stack of papers I found this poem. I think I wrote it in 1995 or 1996. I arrived home late one night to witness the very event that I described. I remember it flowed from my pen so quickly that I could barely write it down correctly. What I have posted here is almost exactly the same as the rough draft. It not only remains one of the only things I've ever written with which I am still pleased but also the only poem I've composed in iambic pentameter. Almost everything else I've written contains some truly cringe-worthy writing that will never be shown publicly like this. Perhaps this particular poem should also be lumped with all of my other efforts, but I can't help it. I truly enjoy reading it even after a decade has passed. Feel free to let me know what you think regardless of your opinion.
I love reading classic English poetry, which shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone considering the William Blake reference that comprises the title and sub-quote of this site. Authors like William Blake, Robert Burns, and many early, anonymously written songs like Sir Patrick Spens are among my favorites.
4 comments:
AWESOME-- I truly figured this to be the work of some famous poet, something which I don't have much knowledge about- and think it's great you wrote that- you should be proud!
@oko: Hmmm. The comment printed here is the only one I received. Feel free to post again.@juju: Thanks for the kind words. I am indeed proud of this one effort. The others I am happy to keep tucked away in my folders to embarrass my family when I am gone.
Very nice imagery. I admit, I'm not much for poetry -- for whatever reason it's never been an art form that really moves me. Maybe I just haven't read enough good poetry.Oh, and get out all of your writing for your kid when he/she is old enough to read. When they're little, they think EVERYTHING we do is cool, so they'll love that dad was a poet!
Dude! That's awesome!Honestly, I'm impressed with the iambic pentameter. I've only come up with cheese-ridden sing-song rhymes that aren't even Dr. Seuss-worthy.
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