Rejoice

You said "follow"
     and I followed
You said "obey"
     and I obeyed
You said "believe"
     and I believed
You said "love"
     and I loved

But now I am forsaken
Lost in a desert to which You led me
Without hope, joy, or love

You said "suffer"
     and I am suffering

-- M.S. du Pré

All his days are sorrows, and his travail grief; yea, his heart taketh not rest in the night. -- Proverbs 2:23

Creep

Lost in a Roman wilderness of pain...

-- Jim Morrison

The thing about always trying to do the right thing...

...is that nobody ever believes you.

Abyss

Alone

Trapped between

the terror of space

and the horror of time

There is no escape

There is no mercy

There is no hope

There is no end

-- M.S. du Pré

Hurt

Edward Scissorhands - Ice Dance

I became a reproach among all mine enemies, but especially among my neighbors; and they of my acquaintance were afraid of me; and they that did see me without conveyed themselves from me.

 -- Psalm 31:13

Love

Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back

Guilty of dust and sin.

But quick-eyed Love, observing me go slack

From my first entrance in,

Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,

If I lacked anything.

A guest, I answered, worthy to be here:

Love said, You shall be he.

I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,

I cannot look on thee.

Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,

Who made the eyes but I?

Truth, Lord, but I have marred them, let my shame

Go where it doth deserve.

And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame?

My dear, then I will serve.

You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:

So I did sit and eat.

-- George Herbert

Discipline

Throw away Thy rod,
Throw away Thy wrath,
                O my God,
Take the gentle path.

For my heart's desire
Unto Thine is bent:
              I aspire
To a full consent.

Not a word or look
I affect to own,
               But by book,
And Thy book alone.

Though I fail, I weep:
Though I halt in pace,
                Yet I creep
To the throne of grace.

Then let wrath remove;
Love will do the deed:
                 For with love
Stony hearts will bleed

Love is swift of foot;
Love's a man of war,
                And can shoot,
And can hit from far.

Who can 'scape his bow?
That which wrought on Thee,
                 Brought Thee low,
Needs must work on me.

Throw away Thy rod;
Though man frailties hath,
                Thou art God:
Throw away Thy wrath.

-- Andrew Marvell

The Long And Winding Road

Authorship and Intent

I've been asked a couple of times about the poetry I've been posting, so I've added bylines to all of my own. The others already have them. Sorry, I thought it was obvious that the ones without attributions were original.

For convenience's sake, the ones I wrote are:
It Wasn't Love at First Sight (http://randomrantandramble.blogspot.com/2014/06/it-wasnt-love-at-first-sight-not-that.html)
How Long? (http://randomrantandramble.blogspot.com/2014/06/how-long.html)

An Aquired Taste (http://randomrantandramble.blogspot.com/2014/06/an-acquired-taste.html)

For an Unnamed Lady (http://randomrantandramble.blogspot.com/2014/05/on-mystery.html)
For my First Love (http://randomrantandramble.blogspot.com/2014/05/for-my-first-love.html)

As to why, well...to begin with, I'm a writer. And writers write. Very often, they write about what's on their minds or in their hearts. And, quite often as well, they want to be read. Just as a musician wants to be heard, a painter wants to be viewed, and a dancer wants to be watched. It's the nature of the beast. And since I have a few actual friends who genuinely care about me and what I have to say, as well as either liking, or being kind enough to say they like, my writing, I put some of it on my blog for their enjoyment and my satisfaction. There's something cathartic about it, as well as about blogging in general: like keeping a journal, but with the possibility of its being read by others (but without the awkward, "Hey, will you read this and tell me what you think?" moment).

On the question of "for whom?", well, I can't say exactly, as it might embarrass them. What I can say is that all but "For my First Love" are for the same girl; that that one is for, obviously, my first love, for whom I carried a torch for something like twenty-five years, all the way through a bad marriage to someone else, and until I fell for the person about whom the others were written; that that person is NOT Amanda Shires; that she has told me I mean nothing at all to her; and that we currently have a very awkward, painful, and uncomfortable relationship (and, for the awkwardness, discomfort, and pain I've caused her, if any, I am truly sorry). But I love her all the same, as true love is unconditional. I know that some people can't handle genuine unconditional love, but that's their issue, not mine, and if someone is constantly trying to turn pure love into something ugly, then the question is not what is wrong with me, but what is wrong with him. I do everything I can to leave her alone completely and make absolutely no romantic advances or gestures, though we can't really avoid seeing each other. But this is my blog, and it's about what's on my mind, and if she, or others who think they're acting on her behalf, are here reading this, then that's their own choice: no one is forcing them to see what I've written. Not that I mind--she or anyone else is perfectly welcome to read what I post here. But if what they see upsets them, then they should also feel perfectly welcome not to read it.

Graham Nash - Simple Man

Mercy!

"Mercy! Mercy! Even if you are only one more dream, have mercy. Take me on board. Take me, even if you strike me dead. But in the name if all mercies do not fade away and leave me in this horrible land."

-- C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

Psalm 13

How long wilt thou forget me , O Lord; forever?
How long shall I seek counsel in my soul, and be so vexed in heart?
How long shall my enemy triumph over me?
Consider, and hear me, O Lord my God; lighten mine eyes, that I sleep not in death; lest mine enemy say, "I have prevailed against him": for if I be cast down, they that trouble me will rejoice at it.
But my trust is in thy mercy, and my heart is joyful in thy salvation.
I will sing of the Lord, because he hath dealt so lovingly with me; yea, I will praise the Name of the Lord Most Highest.

It Wasn't Love at First Sight

It wasn't love at first sight

Not that you weren't beautiful
You were
And I told you

But it wasn't an erotic attraction by which I was drawn to you
It was something deeper
mystical
sublime
mysterious
As if I'd always known you

The first time we met, we talked like old friends
in the way that people have whose souls operate on the same frequency
And I found myself soon counting the days
until I could see you again

But still, it wasn't that kind of love

When I first loved you, it was in spirit
For in our shared love for Him
I found a spirit like my own
but better
For you taught me more perfectly to love Him
You showed me the deep, rich beauty of His Universe
and made me to feel
for the first time,
Joy

Like Beatrice, you led me by the hand
ascending the celestial spheres
laying before my eyes the wonders of Creation
of which you are the most wondrous
But pointing me ever upwards
toward the Light to which all other lights are darkness

I could have loved you eternally
as my most precious and lovely sister
But I found that there was more

For I found you to be a fellow-denizen of Faerie, as well as of Heaven
We were connected by the Secret Thread
We loved the same books
and pursued the same ideas...but not exactly
There was difference enough for you to challenge me
And you did
For you had both the wit and the courage to do so
It charmed and excited me
And I loved you with the deep and true respect of a friend
which one can only have for an equal

We sat, one evening, side-by-side on the sofa
your dear mother in the chair beside
and I thought,
"This is dangerous
 and far too comfortable
 If I'm not careful, I'm going to fall in love
 and that will do no one any good."
I tried to draw away from you then
but it was too late

It happened one morning
another conversation
You sat across from me...
leaning forward...
your face intent...
your eyes alight...
And suddenly you were the most beautiful
the most desirable
the most impossibly alluring woman who had ever lived

My very taste changed
and from that moment forth all women's beauty
was measured by the degree to which they reminded me
of you
Indeed, there is no other woman
for through you I see all others
You are the type and the original
the Platonic Form
and all others are copies
some more, some less imperfect

But none
Anywhere
Ever
Like you

-- M.S. du Pré

This one, either

Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my bride: thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck.

How fair is thy love, my sister, my bride! how much better is thy love than wine! and the fragrance of thy perfumes than all spices!

Thy lips, O my bride, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under thy tongue; and the smell of thy garments is as the smell of Lebanon.

A garden enclosed is my sister, my bride; a spring shut up, a fountain sealed.

-- Song of Songs 4:10-12

This one I didn't write

Tell me, ye merchants daughters, did ye see
So fayre a creature in your towne before;

So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she,

Adornd with beautyes grace and vertues store?

Her goodly eyes lyke Saphyres shining bright,

Her forehead yvory white,

Her cheekes lyke apples which the sun hath rudded,

Her lips lyke cherryes charming men to byte,

Her brest like to a bowle of creame uncrudded,

Her paps lyke lyllies budded,

Her snowie necke lyke to a marble towre;

And all her body like a pallace fayre,

Ascending up, with many a stately stayre,

To honors seat and chastities sweet bowre.

Why stand ye still ye virgins in amaze,

Upon her so to gaze,

Whiles ye forget your former lay to sing,

To which the woods did answer, and your eccho ring?

But if ye saw that which no eyes can see,

The inward beauty of her lively spright,

Garnisht with Heavenly guifts of high degree,

Much more then would ye wonder at that sight,

And stand astonisht lyke to those which red

Medusaes mazeful hed.

There dwels sweet love, and constant chastity,

Unspotted fayth, and comely womanhood,

Regard of honour, and mild modesty;

There vertue ranes as Queene in royal throne,

And giveth lawes alone,

The which the base affections doe obay,

And yeeld theyr services unto her will;

Ne thought of thing uncomely ever may

Thereto approch to tempt her mind to ill.

Had ye once scene these her celestial threasures,

And unrevealéd pleasures,

Then would ye wonder, and her prayses sing,

That al the woods should answer, and your echo ring.

-- Edmund Spencer; from Epithalamion

An Acquired Taste

Beauty of the common sort

is like last week's chardonnay--sweet, but bland

quickly drunk

and as quickly forgotten

But every now and then,

perhaps once in a lifetime

or twice, if a man is fortunate,

he meets with a woman

whose beauty is like a great Burgundy

deep, rich, complex, sublime,

full of character and texture,

each drop of which must be relished slowly

with discernment and savour

whose sharp acids and strong tannins

are inherent to its appeal;

but, if drunk too quickly,

bites the tongue and burns the throat

Such a woman,

she whose beauty is real

and invisible

shines with a mystical light,

like the glow of pure gold

The light of Faerie--

radiant with colours that cannot be seen by mortal eye

Those who have it not

paint and gild themselves

and hate those who do

But flash and sparkle are not light

Glitter and rhinestones are not jewels

But even among precious gems
thou, my love, art a Silmaril
Even among fine wines

thou, my love, art a sip from the Grail

-- M.S. du Pré