Primsong's snatches of verse

Primsong

Primsong

New member
Some of our ladies and gents here having so generously shared of their poetic musings with me, to my appreciative delight and interest, I thought it only seemed fair to do likewise.

I shan't inundate with the overwhelming number of poems I've done over time for the world of Tolkien, but I thought it might be interesting just to add other small bits on a range of topics, if that would suit. :eek:

Two little ones...
--

Unrequited

Ever the sea desires to reach,
Presenting waves, in diamonds each;
Forever spurned by the distant land,
The stranded gems upon the beach.

Unadorned by foam, the forest's hand,
With streams too sweet for salted sands,
Verdant, lush she turns her eyes
And thoughts to higher, windswept plans.

The wind and fresh-iced airy skies,
It draws earth's heart, her longing's rise;
And yet knows not her sad desire,
And turns to stars, whence its love lies.

--

And for those who may have had to get up too early for their liking:

Pleasing to None

Pleasing to none,
New day's dark beginning,
Before the sun rises, when black is the sky;
Not yet resurrected, not yet is it living,
Though those in their slumbers
Oft wish it would die.

Pleasing to none,
The small hours of morning,
Before the sweet colors sweep upward the east;
When all the soft dreaming is broken a-borning,
And cold is the shivering
When night is at least.
 
The first of these two works I've seen / Out of the crop your own muse wields,
Has rhythm, and a rhyming scheme, / Which bring to mind "In Flanders Fields."

The second one, though less in length, / Calls much more deeply to my soul;
Your words of dawn strike with great strength, / Because of how dawn played a role

In my first unfair fight with death, / That foe whom Christ Himself shall slay:
My Mary strove all night for breath / On oxygen, and only day

Would bring her cancer-stricken flesh / Ability to sigh and sleep,
Which gave me cause, for one, to bless / The mostly-hated pre-dawn deep.

Then also I could steal a nap, / With night watch done--till my first wife
Was seated in Our Savior's lap, / And I was left within this life.

Then later, Janalee's ordeal / Restored me to the normal hate
For early morning most folks feel; / For Jan could sleep--just never late.

I had to help her list the pills / Each morning for her countless plagues,
Till she, like Mary, left all ills / Behind, and crossed the endless waves.

I still wake now ahead of dawn, / Except when I've been up all night;
Sleep without pills is mostly gone-- / A casualty of true love's fight.

Upon my back I pat myself, / I see that; but it wasn't planned.
Upon my word, more sure than health, / 'Twas you, Primsong, who roused my hand.

Your piercing verses pierced the drab / Fatigue which clogs my rhymer's mind,
Compelling me to take a stab / At what you'd placed for me to find.

Your thoughts about the hours of grey, / Inspired, nay, conjured this new flood
Of my own verse, which ran away / With me, like something in my blood.

Appropriately, I write this / One sleepless midnight, at my desk;
There's no one with a goodnight kiss / For me, since God reclaimed the best

He'd given me; He has the right / To take, as to bestow each gift.
So sleeplessness, night after night, / Alone, is where my boat shall drift,

Until God chooses otherwise-- / I'm sorry, Primsong, to usurp
Your thread; I'm baffled at the size / Of what I'm posting, like a burp

From too much soda, whose rude roar / Continues, till those near the jerk
Warn him he'd better burp no more. / Am I obnoxious? Does this work

Of impulse, utterly unplanned, / Insult you? Then bid me delete!
At least, though, I support your stand / That pre-dawn hours are far from sweet.
 
I think there really good and the first 2 verses of Unrequited really relax me (the sea relaxs me) and Pleasing to None reminds me of the sky when its sunrise and its all different colours, pink, cream, blue, orange, purple etc

And Papa Joe those little poems are really good!
 
Thank you, Jill - and Joe, to see any verse of mine inspire another to even more is poetry doing what it ought - creating in the heart of another an answering poetic picture, desire or thought. Thank you for following that outpouring and not pulling it back.

One more...

Gentle Touch
A rubiyat

Gently, the hands that formed the world,
Took earth and round it spirit curled,
Imbued with life the breath of man,
Time's long banner first unfurled.

Just as a shepherd is soft when a lamb
Caught in a bramble struggles to stand,
His hands gently lift and then set free,
Not forcing them to him, although they can.

Gentle those hands, and strong they be,
That lifted the mountains and formed the sea,
That soothe all the hurts of each small one;
Gentle they were when they came to me.

Long is the way 'til this road is done,
So grateful we are for this warming sun,
The light that shines keeping darkness at bay;
That a gentle touch to us all may come.
 
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